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#give Roman a break he had to imagine it all himself. He's an actor not a gardener.
hedgeyart · 3 years
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💘 Roman’s Conquest 🐉
As a lesbian I can respect people's desire to interpret the Dragon Witch as a sexy lady character, but I think it's much funnier to imagine them as a big lizard in a stupid hat. In this case a plush lizard, one you can slay before the cheering puppet masses. (close-ups under the cut)
[AU Masterlist]
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Lie to Me
Prompts: Post Pof: Janus is not doing ok, everday he can taste Roman's lies, he can feel Roman's pain. He can feel the ego crumbling. Guilt plagues him as hes done the opposite of protecting the ego. Hey uh... could you write a fic when you have the time? - meltheromanstan
Roman is having issues trying to keep up his facade (and maybe struggling with his work cause ADHD makes everything difficult on top of everything because I love the idea of the twins having ADHD) and he is one bump in the road away from a full on meltdown. And Janus realizes a lie in a conversation that’s concerning and at some point in Roman begrudgingly gives a self deprecating reason and Janus is like heck no and Roman’s like why not and Janus is like because i care? And then Roman breaks down because no one has told him anything like that in a long time. Sorry that’s so long. You can write this whenever, or never if you don’t wanna. Anygay, bye and thank you! - anon
Thank you for the requests! oh this poor man. roman i'm so sorry you didn't do anything to deserve this and here I am hurting you. I'm so sorry bb you need to be wrapped up with a hot chocolate and sat far away from everything.
Read on Ao3
Warnings: self-hatred, self-doubt, poor roman’s got so much internalized hatred this poor man, some things that can be interpreted as self-harm but nothing explicit
Pairings: main focus on roceit but it can be platonic or romantic you decide, background LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR
Word Count: 10,554
Janus hears every single lie in the Mindscape. It doesn't matter whether or not the liar believes it to be true or knows it's a falsehood; if it isn't true, he hears it.
Roman lies. A lot.
Or: 5 times Janus had to hide that he was taking care of Roman, and 1 time he didn't.
1. 
They never gave Roman enough credit for how good of an actor he can be.
 The wedding is an absolute dumpster fire. The aftermath is a nuclear explosion. Roman sinks out in silence, long before the video is over. Virgil never shows up, neither does Remus. Logan is cut off before he can realize it.
 Well, that’s not true.
 Janus cuts Logan off before he can realize it.
 Because he didn’t care about them, no. Patton has the most influence over Thomas. Patton is the one who influences the other Sides more than they realize most of the time. And Patton is the one who needed to listen.
 So it didn’t matter that the others weren’t there when Janus had to talk to Patton and Thomas, because it worked. Thomas listened, Patton finally understood, and things could start getting better.
 …or so he thought.
 In fairness, the others came around…fairly quickly. He approached Logan with a book on philosophy and an apology on his lips, only to be swept up into a conversation that had drawn both Patton and Virgil into the living room by the end of the day. It felt…well, right isn’t the correct word, but…warm, perhaps. Yes, let’s go with warm.
 Of course, Remus belly-flopping onto the couch—and the rest of them—near the end was certainly an additional factor.
 But Roman…
 Janus didn’t expect Roman to forgive him. Certainly not quickly. He certainly expected Roman to forgive the others for whatever little parts they played in harming the prince’s precious ego. And he absolutely expected the prince to admit that he was wrong, that it was indeed his fault that everything had gone so spectacularly wrong.
 The first time Roman walks into the kitchen after the wedding, Janus flinches.
 Virgil notices and all but jumps in front of him, snarling a ‘what do you want?’ in Roman’s direction. Patton had turned around and his smile had frozen, staring at Roman.
 “Hello, Roman,” Logan says cooly, “may we help you?”
 “Yeesh, aren’t you lot jumpy this morning?” Roman shakes his head and sighs dramatically. “I am not here to grace you all with my glorious presence, simply to grab a little food and depart on a quest!”
 “Thank god,” Virgil mutters, too low for Roman to hear.
 He pushes Janus behind him as Roman waltzes into the kitchen to take something out of the cupboard.
 “…when will you be back,” Patton asks warily, “and where are you going?”
 “Into the Imagination, my dear Padre!” Roman spreads his arms wide. “To see where the spirit of adventure takes me!”
 “That answers only one of the questions.” Logan closes his notebook sharply.
 “Time is a social construct,” Roman says airily, “but I suppose I shall try to return for dinner?”
 “Don’t force yourself,” Virgil snarks, crossing his arms, “looks hard enough already.”
 Roman just laughs and leaves.
 “Goodness,” Patton mumbles, leaning on the counter, “I didn’t expect him to be so—so—“
 “Roman?” Virgil rolls his eyes. “Princey’s got a head bigger than a fucking balloon—“
 “Language.”
 “—and he’s not gonna come down to earth for anything.”
 “Roman is—or can be—remarkably immature when it comes to admitting his mistakes,” Logan adds, “it’s not to be completely unexpected that he is still in denial.”
 Patton sighs. “I know, I just…expected better.”
 “Don’t hold your breath,” Virgil huffs, “what about you, Janus? Are you hurt?”
 “I also noticed you flinch,” Logan says, standing, “are you alright? Did Roman…”
 “He didn’t hurt you, did he, kiddo?”
 No. No, Janus is absolutely fine right now.
 The instant Roman had appeared in the doorway, the lies slammed into Janus.
  They hate you, they never want to see you again.
  Everything is your fault.
  Virgil is right to try and shield Janus from you, you were so fucking cruel to him.
  They don’t deserve to be burdened with you.
  Leave. Leave so they never have to put up with you. You know they don’t want you.
  They’ve never wanted you.
 And yet, as clearly as he heard those lies, he heard Roman, the blustery, pompous Prince, loud as ever, spoiled as ever. He saw Roman, the swaggering adventurer, the cocky Creativity who was always right, always the center of attention.
 The actor.
 Janus had definitely given him enough credit for that.
 “Janus?”
 Right, they’re still waiting for an answer.
 “I’m fine,” he says, a beat too late, “just caught off guard, that’s all.”
 Virgil eyes him suspiciously. “You’re lying.”
 “Well of course I am,” Janus sighs, rolling his eyes, “it’s not like Deceit is one of my primary functions, after all.”
 “Kiddo,” Patton says, “you know you can tell us if Roman—if someone hurts you, right?”
 Something pinches just under his chin. “I know.”
 “…so?”
 He shakes his head. “Roman hasn’t hurt me, nor has he threatened to.”
 Virgil bumps his shoulder. “Just…keep us in the loop, okay?”
 “Because it’s very likely that Roman will hurt me.”
 The others chuckle or brush it off. Of course, they did. When they aren’t paying attention, Janus lets his gaze trail up the stairs, following the line where the prince vanished. The others have never paid much attention to when Roman returns from his ‘quests.’
 Janus does.
 Even if Janus weren’t consciously coming to the prince’s aid, he’s certain he’d be summoned regardless.
 He waits, quiet in the shadows, for the telltale squeak of the lower hinge on the red wardrobe door in Roman’s room. He’s learned to keep still, keep quiet, not yet fully materialized, watching as Roman stumbles back through the door, one of his arms sagging in relief as the other holds him up. The door creaks shut and a shuddering breath leaves the prince’s chest.
 His head bows.
 Before the charade completely falls away, Roman pushes himself up and starts getting ready to sleep. His sash, normally laid so carefully over the back of his chair, is given barely a second thought as he throws his costume onto the floor. Janus winces at the slam of the bathroom door and again at the way Roman all but collapses into the bed with a miserable expression on his face. He doesn’t need to pry away the pillow to know that Roman is desperate.
  Stupid, stupid, worthless prince.
  Not even a fucking prince, not even the fucking squire.
  Useless, can’t even do your fucking job.
  Can’t even stop feeling fucking sorry for yourself even though you know damn well you don’t deserve it.
  You don’t deserve anything.
 Janus grits his teeth and waits. Waits for Roman’s lies to grow less vitriolic, more sluggish, waits for Roman’s breathing to even out, sagging against the pillow, before he moves.
 His footsteps are silent as he crosses the room, keeping a wary eye on the door, lest someone else knock and wake up the now sleeping prince. He swallows, leaning down, his lips barely brushing the curve of Roman’s ear.
 He doesn’t touch, doesn’t want to risk waking him now.
 “You’re not stupid, Roman,” he whispers, barely loud enough to be heard, even by himself. “You’re not worthless, you’ve never been worthless.”
 Roman shifts in his sleep. Janus freezes. He stills and he breathes out. Bends just a little closer.
 “And you deserve to know that.”
 Even if he can only even whisper it when Roman is too deep in sleep to hear him.
 2. 
The lies don’t stop. They just get worse.
 Fortunately, Janus’s powers aren’t limited by the physical space, not when the lies are particularly pervasive. For example, every time Logan insists that he doesn’t have feelings, or Virgil insists he doesn’t care about the others, or Patton says—particularly passionately—that everything’s fine, Janus hears it. These ones typically merit a scoff and a roll of the eyes, or a quip if he’s actually in the same room. These ones he’s used to.
 Here’s the thing about the lies that Janus can hear; it doesn’t matter whether or not they’re lies that someone knows is a lie or whether it’s something they believe. If it isn’t true, Janus will hear it.
 Case in point: Roman’s lies, and the lies that took Janus far too long to figure out were lies.
 When he decides to tune into Roman’s mind, he’s normally greeted with statements lauding about how amazing the prince is, how he’s the best Side, how much he loves himself. Even when he’s not paying particular attention to Roman, he can hear those sentiments loud and clear.
 The issue with that? He can hear them loud and clear.
 Now, is it likely that these are things that Roman believes that aren’t true? The possibility exists.
 Is it more likely, given recent…developments, that these are things that Roman has known aren’t true, and is intentionally thinking them in order to keep playing a role?
 No, of course not, why would you ever think that?
 They won’t go away. He can barely look at Roman now, can’t stop seeing, hearing all the lies he tells himself every day. The others are starting to worry, growing colder towards Roman, concerned about how much Janus tries to put distance between them. Virgil keeps shoving himself in between the two of them, Logan keeps pulling Janus into long conversations that Roman wouldn’t dare insert himself into, Patton makes sure the two of them are never alone.
 Well, almost never alone.
 The lies are the worst at night. When Roman is in his room, curled up under the covers, his head buried in his hands, they roam freely, coloring the red curtains with shadows, smearing themselves over his paintings, his drawings, his writing, his keyboard.
  They’re right to be scared of you, right to hate you.
  You don’t deserve their forgiveness, especially when you haven’t even apologized for the amount of things you’ve done wrong.
  And you’re selfish enough to want a fucking apology from them?
 Janus, waiting in the corner for Roman to fall asleep, winces, the strength and magnitude of the lie filling his mouth with bitterness.
 Does he deserve an apology from Roman? Yes, perhaps, that would be nice. Laughing at his name in a moment of vulnerability was…perhaps not ideal.
 But the idea that Roman doesn’t deserve an apology? From any of them?
 Roman, the only one who consistently defers and gives and tries and hopes for them, the one who works nonstop to make sure they have something, anything to do, for Thomas, for each other, the only one who’s called out to apologize to them, who apologizes to them when he realizes he’s done something wrong?
 Roman deserves an apology. If only to make up for the amount of times he’s been blamed for something that someone else started.
 A noise.
 Janus blinks, coming back to the present as Roman stirs. For a moment, he worries that the prince has woken up, that he’s discovered someone else in his room, only for a trail of sluggish lies to funnel into his mind.
  Janus hates you more than anyone else and he’s right to.
  You hurt Janus on purpose.
  You never stop hurting Janus.
  You will always be someone he can use, a puppet, until you are nothing more than an obstacle.
 Before he can stop himself, he’s striding across the room to murmur in Roman’s ear again, chest aching with the weight of the lies.
 “The others,” he murmurs, flooding the words with as much sincerity as he can, “they don’t know what I can hear, what they have never noticed, and that is what hurts me, my prince, that you are so quiet and so brave that you can convince the world that you’re not suffering.”
 Roman clutches his pillow a little tighter.
 “I don’t hate you, my prince, I know you didn’t mean to hurt me like that, and I know—“ he takes a deep breath— “I know that the hurt you caused me is nothing compared to what I have done to you.”
 He closes his eyes and feels the guilt well up in his chest. He knows he can’t say the full apology that Roman needs—that he deserves right now. He can’t even begin to imagine all the little things he hasn’t even realized he’s done to Roman, how many things he’s done that he’s forgotten that were just another Tuesday to him, but rewrote entire chapters of Roman’s life.
 He can’t begin to imagine how much of this could’ve been stopped if only he’d realized just how hurt Roman has always been.
 “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m sorry that I never realized how far I let this get.”
 3. 
Roman is touch-starved, he realized, horrified one day when he walks into the living room to see Logan and Patton sitting on the couch, Virgil sprawled across their laps, and Roman in the corner, far away from everyone else, hiding such a look of heartbreak that Janus almost stops in the doorway as Remus brushes past him.
 “Hey!” Virgil splutters when Remus lies down on top of him.
 “Remus!” Patton pushes lightly at him. “You’re going to squish Virgil!”
 “He’s durable, he’s used to it.”
 Logan raises his eyebrows, looking to Janus for confirmation. Janus sighs.
 “I can remember every single time I’ve walked into our living room to see the two of them on the couch,” he says dryly, “and I’m certain that all of them have started with Remus asking Virgil’s permission to lie on top of him for hours.”
 “See?” Remus wraps his arms around Virgil. “He’s fine.”
 “Yeah, yeah, Pat and L’s knees won’t be though.”
 “Ooh! Did you know that some people have a third bone in their knee?”
 “I would be more than happy to follow this train of conversation,” Logan mutters, “if you were to get off my lap.”
 “Fine.”
 Janus shakes his head again as Remus clambers off, landing cross-legged next to Logan on the couch and immediately info-dumping. Virgil sighs and scoots, laying his head in Patton’s lap and going back to his phone. Patton runs his hand through Virgil’s hair and wiggles his free hand at Janus.
 “Come on, there’s plenty of room.”
 Remus snorts, interrupting his tirade long enough to say: “Jan-Jan’s not a cuddler,” before going back to talking about…something to do with knees. Patton frowns.
 “What?”
 “’S true.” Virgil peers up at him. “He’ll hug you if you ask for it but he’s not big on cuddling.”
 “O-oh.”
 “He should still come sit with us, though,” Virgil says quickly, shooting Janus a very subtle look, “so get over here, J.”
 Janus sits, pulling out his book and opening it. After a few seconds, Patton looks away, and Virgil tunes out again.
 Good.
 The lies were getting a little too hard to stand.
 Here, behind his book, he can shift his attention to Roman, scribbling in his notebook and looking every bit the creative genius at work, dead to the world, couldn’t give less interest as to what’s going on around him.
 As he said, Roman is a fantastic actor.
 This time, it’s not even that the words are the thing hurting him now. No, these lies are the type he’s more used to, someone frantically muttering the same thing to themselves over and over and over, trying to convince themselves it’s true. The problem is what’s being carried with the lies, and how deep this need must run in order for it to make it to Janus.
  I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it.
 Roman’s hand is trembling a little on his pen as his brow furrows, eyes skating back and forth over the page. The ache starts just under his chin, right where it meets his throat, and surges, rushing through his arms to the very tips of his fingers. All of them, even the hidden ones. His gloves twitch on the pages of the book.
 He’s so cold.
  I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it.
 The words start to blur together. It hurts. His arms ache. He risks looking more openly at Roman only for him to notice, looking back and quirking an eyebrow.
 “Something wrong, Deceit?”
 “He has a name,” Virgil growls.
 “Janus,” Roman amends, shooting Virgil a glance, “is there something wrong?”
 “Why’re you over there?”
 He meant to ask why Roman wasn’t sitting with the other Sides. He meant to ask whether Roman chose to sit by himself and starve himself of physical contact or if the others had cut him off. He meant to ask if Roman wanted to come to sit with the rest of them.
 Instead, Roman smiles.
 “You’re right. It’s getting quite late. I must be off!”
 Before Janus can say anything, Roman assumes his dramatic pose and sinks out, cheerily declaring his farewells.
 Next to him, Patton lets out a shaky breath.
 “Goodness.”
 Logan adjusts his glasses. “Quite.”
 “Thanks, Janus,” Virgil mutters, making himself more comfortable, “I thought he’d never leave.”
 No.
 No, no, no, this is all wrong.
 “Why did you want him to leave?”
 Virgil shrugs. “It’s harder when he’s here.”
 “Harder how?”
 “We do not know how to act around Roman,” Logan admits, fixing his tie, “he’s not—well, he seems content to behave as if nothing is wrong, and…”
 “It’s not,” Patton says softly. He fiddles with his hands. “We can’t go back to the way it was before, and Roman…Roman doesn’t seem to know how to move on.”
 Virgil snorts. “Not that he seems to care enough to try.”
 Well, if the lies still plaguing Roman’s thoughts are any indication…
  Why would they want to touch you? You ruin everything you touch, haven’t you ruined enough already? Haven’t you ruined them enough already?
  They’re done trying with you. They hate you. It’s a wonder they only realize it now.
  Broken, useless, toxic prince. Finally left out in the cold where you deserve to be.
 Roman curls up under his thin sheet, the heavy blankets put away for the colder seasons too far away and too close to Patton’s room for him to get them safely. Janus watches as he twitches miserably, curling up tighter, turning over, hugging his pillow to his chest, trying, trying to feel warm. Every now and then there’s a quiet noise, quickly stifled. His arms start to ache again, not just from the cold, but from how much Roman seems to believe that no one wants to touch him.
 He makes up his mind.
 He sinks out to his room, quickly grabbing one of his weighted blankets from his own storage. Returning to Roman’s room, he waits with bated breath until Roman’s chest rises and falls at a steady rate before carefully creeping forward and spreading the blanket over the prince.
 “Don’t make yourself cold,” he murmurs, tucking it into place, “stay warm for me, my prince, stay warm, it’s alright.”
 Roman shifts, turning his head so it accidentally brushes Janus’s hand.
 Janus freezes.
 Roman hums slightly and falls back asleep. Shaking, Janus moves his fingers, letting them card through Roman’s hair. The prince mumbles and doesn’t wake.
 He does it again, firmer this time. Roman all but melts under this, just this, just a proper blanket over him and someone running their fingers through his hair.
 “Oh, Roman,” Janus murmurs, unable to resist cupping Roman’s face in his hand, ��you’re don’t ruin everything you touch, far from it.”
 He cups the back of Roman’s head, guiding it to a more comfortable angle.
 “On the contrary,” he whispers, “you make us better.”
 And maybe…maybe he can try and provide a little of what Roman needs. Even if they have to be stolen moments, felt only on the very edges of sleep, when Roman is conscious enough to remember them but not lucid enough to lie and say he doesn’t deserve it.
 4. 
The time when Roman barely managed to stumble through the door in his room before passing out is the only time Janus seriously considers calling the others to help.
 But no, he reminds himself as he rushes to the prince’s side, they would want to wake him up, to scold him, to figure out exactly what he thought he was doing, whether or not he’s considered whether this is hurting Thomas.
 Janus bites back a growl as he starts examining the prince.
 Perhaps if they were so concerned about whether or not hurting Roman hurts Thomas, they’d be more considerate about what they say to him.
 He pushes that away for now, more focused on getting Roman’s tight collar away from his neck and checking the state of his bruises. From what he can see from the dirt on the costume, he’s fallen, from quite a significant height, and who knows what else might be hiding under here?
 “I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he looks around for something to help, “but I may have to peel you out of these.”
 Sure enough, he can get most of the costume top off fairly easily—and gains a newfound respect for how difficult it must be to put the thing on by himself, there are so many buttons—but the undershirt proves more difficult, especially as it seems to be stuck in places that it should not be stuck in.
 …oh.
 Oh, no.
 Janus bites back a curse and moves quickly. One arm reaches for the first aid kit he knows is in the bathroom, one arm grabs a pillow and stuffs it under Roman’s head, two gently move his arms up and over his head, and two carefully, carefully take the edge of the undershirt and beginning to take it off.
 He presses a gauze pad to the wound over Roman’s hip.
 He holds an ice pack to the swollen lump on his rib cage.
 He checks over the wound on his chest.
 He tilts Roman’s head from side to side to see how far up the bruises go.
 The pants have to come next and Janus grits his teeth, running his hand over Roman’s forehead as an apology before he shucks the article of clothing.
 More bruises. So many bruises. Thankfully no more bleeding wounds.
 He lets out a breath and sits back on his haunches, staring down at the injured prince.
 The best thing about it, he decides, is that there’s no way for Roman to know that he would’ve been safe passing out and not taking care of any of these.
 The wound on his hip has all but stopped bleeding as Janus tends to it carefully, wiping away the blood and soothing the angry skin with a balm, covering the whole thing with a bandage. The mark on his chest isn’t as bad as it looks, bits of dead skin that Janus clears away and brushes off Roman’s torso. The antiseptic makes him hiss a little and he rubs soothing circles into his tummy until he resettles, murmuring that he’s doing so well, he’s almost done, they’ll get him into bed and he can rest.
 None of the bruises on his legs are bad enough to merit bruise cream, let alone keeping the poor thing from his bed for a moment longer. Instead, Janus quickly covers the one on his ribs and lifts the prince into his arms.
 Roman jolts.
 “Shh, shh,” Janus murmurs, stroking a free hand through his hair, “shh, shh, shh…”
 Roman shushes, just in time for Janus to lie him down and tuck him in, one hand still in his hair as he sits on the edge of the bed. A furrow grows between his brows.
  Should’ve gotten hurt worse.
 Janus freezes.
  Should’ve let them hit you more.
  Got off too easy.
  It should hurt more. You deserve it. Maybe if you pay enough it’ll get better.
 “No, sweetie,” Janus whispers, reaching out before he can stop himself and cradling Roman’s sleeping head in his hands, “no, no, no, don’t ever believe that we want to see you hurt.”
  Shouldn’t have come back.
  Shouldn’t be a burden.
  At least none of the others know about it, they would only complain and ignore you. Useless, worthless prince.
 “You’re not worthless, sweetie,” Janus promises, still cradling the poor thing’s head, running his fingers through his hair to keep him lulled and asleep, “shh, now, everything’s alright, hush now…”
 As the lies drift off into nothingness, Roman along with them, Janus’s face falls.
 Roman is the protector. The prince that will always put himself between them and whatever dared to try and hurt them. He’s not meant to fight a war on two fronts.
  Who protects the protector?
 “I will, sweetie,” Janus whispers, so, so quietly as he tidies up Roman’s room and gives the sleeping prince one last pat, “I’ll look after you.”
 5. 
Roman, perhaps more than any of the others, is essential to Thomas’s mental help.
 Roman is Thomas’s hopes and dreams, the things he wants above all else, the things he strives for, the things he desires. He reaches and reaches and reaches for Thomas, holds every single one of his wants close to his chest, and keeps them safe until they can bubble up into reality.
 Roman is romance, the reason Patton gets all fluttery and bubbly inside. He’s the suave, fabulous, gay disaster that encourages Thomas to be happy, to reach for who he wants, for who he desires.
 Roman is creativity, the livelihood that Thomas has chosen. He works nonstop, tirelessly producing idea after idea for Thomas to film, to write, to create, so Thomas can live and be proud of what he’s doing.
 Roman is the Ego.
 What is the Ego, you may ask? Well, although Freud is largely considered bullshit by modern psychologists—or at the very least, upsetting due to the fact that his research was largely corrupted by the rich men funding it—there are certain aspects of his work that remain in the public mind.
 Simply put, the Ego is the conscious mind. It is the sum of your thoughts, beliefs, and habits as they interact with your physical body. The tether that stretches into your awareness and consciousness and into your physical form. It is a combination of body-thoughts-feelings and the consciousness taken to activate it.
 The Ego gives you a sense of self-worth. It is a mask, one you put on and play as a role.
 Everyone and anyone, it seems, has been warned about the dangers of an out-of-control Ego. Overconfident, hubristic, arrogant, with no regard for others. A vapid complainer, sustained by the power of approval hoarded selfishly. You are encouraged, if not instructed outright, to learn how to live without paying any attention to your Ego.
 Here’s what they don’t tell you.
 The Ego is what you think of yourself. It gives you self-worth because that’s its job. To make you feel secure in who you are. It is sustained by approval because it lives in fear. It itself puts on a mask of strength, of imperviousness, that it is indestructible, because it is soft, malleable, and so very afraid.
 It is true that the Ego is nourished by positive comments, because it isn’t a crime to feel good, or to feel proud, or to want to be validated. It is true that the Ego sometimes reaches too high, only to fall, because that is its nature, to want, and to hope.
 They don’t tell you that when you turn your hatred inwards, your Ego doesn’t just bruise, it crumbles.
 So when Logan constantly tells Roman that they can’t do something, or it isn’t a worthy use of their time, despite his best intentions, he’s not doing much other than snatching Roman’s dreams away. Roman learns not to ignore Logan, yes, but at the expense of constantly being told that it is his fault when Thomas feels crushed, never mind that Roman is crushed, too.
 So when Virgil insults and belittles his worth, tells him he’s stupid and unimportant, despite the fact that Roman will snipe back at him, all he does is reinforce the idea that Roman is the only one at fault, that Virgil is allowed to sit and insult him to his heart’s content while Roman has to apologize for standing up for himself. Roman learns to stand quietly while Virgil tells Thomas he’s a disappointment until the time comes where he believes it’s true.
 So when Patton decides that Roman is bad, after how much Roman has sacrificed for Patton, to do what would make Patton happy, Thomas happy, when all he needs is just someone on his side, something, anything, Roman has to stand there, alone, hurt, angry, upset, and be told that he’s wrong. Roman learns that he’s only here to give, not to receive, that no one will hold him when he falls apart.
 So when Remus starts to show up, more and more, less and less restrained, no one puts it together that Roman literally does not have the strength to hold him back. Roman learns that the others don’t realize how little confidence he already has, only that their approval of him is directly proportional to how much they hate his brother.
 So when Janus decides that Thomas needs to take better care of himself and that the only one he needs to focus on is Patton, Roman is the perfect tool, the perfect puppet, to be used and tossed aside when he no longer needs him, because it’s so easy to twist and turn the little prince so he dances in just the right way, never mind how much it hurts. Roman learns that no one ever cared about him, not really, and perhaps they never will.
 As you might be able to imagine, destroying the thing that gives one self-worth is absolutely the best way to go about things.
 Can any of you guess where the blame gets pushed when Thomas’s mental health suddenly plummets?
 It’s definitely where it should be.
 The thing that scares Janus the most about how that meeting goes is how resigned Roman is.
 His hands are folded neatly behind his back. His face is politely blank. His mind is quiet.
 When there’s a break in the conversation—if you could even call it that—he opens his mouth.
 “What would you like me to do?”
 “Have you not been listening?” Logan adjusts his glasses. “To…anything we have said?”
 “Of fucking course he hasn’t,” Virgil grumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets.
 “Kiddo,” Patton admonishes, crossing his arms, “Thomas hasn’t had any ideas or dreams lately and it’s stressing him out.”
 “Which means you need to get out of the pity party and back to reality with the rest of us,” Virgil adds.
 “Which means,” Logan sighs, crossing his arms too, “you are going to have to start talking to us again.”
 Roman looks between them. “Are we not…talking now?”
 “He means actually interacting with us, Princey.”
 “Have I…not been doing that?”
 “It means accepting that things have changed,” Logan snaps, “and working through it.”
 Roman tilts his head. “How would you like me to do that?”
 “Well—“ Logan adjusts his glasses— “let’s start with an apology.”
 Something flickers across Roman’s face. Janus looks back and forth between Thomas and Remus. Thomas just looks a little confused as to what’s going on—which, when doesn’t he?—and Remus is staring right at Roman. There’s a strange expression on his face.
 “What would you like me to apologize for?”
 Janus winces when Virgil scoffs, turning away, and Logan’s mouth hardens into a thin line.
 “Why don’t you try starting,” Patton says, “and we’ll see.”
 “No, you know what? No.” Virgil points a finger at Roman. “I’m done holding your hand through all of this. Waiting for you to realize that you fucked up.”
 “Virgil—“
 “No, Pat!” Virgil gestures between the three of them. “You know how hard it’s been on us, waiting for something to change, and now he wants us to just…what, walk him through what he did wrong?”
 Patton spares a glance at Roman before looking away.
 Roman’s face twitches. He looks down.
 “Perhaps Virgil is right,” Logan says, “when Roman can try taking the first step, then maybe this conversation will be more productive. Until then, I see no reason to waste time.”
 “Great. Bye, Thomas.”
 “Wait, you guys are just leaving?”
 “I see no reason to simply stand here and be unproductive,” Logan shrugs, “perhaps if something changes, you can summon us back.”
 “Doubt it,” Virgil mutters, grabbing Logan’s shoulder and sinking them out. Patton spares one last look at Roman before he leaves too.
 Thomas shuffles a little. Remus keeps staring at Roman.
 After a moment, Roman moves.
 “…you want me to apologize?”
 Janus definitely imagines the chill that goes through the room.
 Roman raises his head. He does not look at where Patton stood, he does not look at where Virgil stood, he does not look at where Logan stood.
 He looks directly at Thomas.
 “I’m sorry, Thomas.”
 Thomas splutters. “Roman—“
 “I’m sorry that I sent you to the wedding,” Roman says softly, Thomas’s words dying in his throat, “I’m sorry that I made a decision that I thought you wanted. I’m sorry that I tried to put your friends above your own wants, because I thought that was right. I’m sorry that I thought I was doing what was right.”
 Thomas’s eyes go wide.
 “I’m sorry that you never had faith that you would win the callback,” Roman continues, never once looking away from Thomas, “I’m sorry that your dreams are always too far away, that you must always feel the need to crush them in favor of what is more practical. I’m sorry that you constantly feel like you’re set up to be one big disappointment.”
 Janus’s arms drop in shock.
 “I’m sorry that I can’t do what you want,” and by this point, Thomas looks on the verge of tears, “even though that’s supposed to be my job. I’m sorry that nothing I do is ever good enough on its own, that you feel so afraid, so scared of doing the things you want. I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel even the tiniest bit of my fear.”
 Thomas stifles a noise.
 “I’m sorry that I don’t know things.” Roman chuckles sadly. “I’m sorry that it takes me so much time to figure out what to do. I’m sorry that it always feels like everyone’s one step ahead of me, that you have to wait for me to catch up, even though I never, ever do. I’m sorry for not sticking to the plan.”
 Something heavy presses against Janus’s throat.
 “And I’m sorry that I’m hurt. I’m sorry that it’s been a little too much for me to handle. I’m sorry that my pain is an inconvenience to you.”
 “R-Roman—“
 Roman just smiles sadly when Thomas can’t finish the sentence. He spreads his arms, giving a little gesture to himself.
 “I’m sorry that this is your Ego.”
 Janus sees the moment the horrified realization dawns on Thomas’s face.
 “I’m gonna fucking kill them,” Remus snarls and it’s only years of practice that makes Janus’s reflexes fast enough to catch hold of him before he sinks out. “Let me go!”
 “You can’t hurt them,” Janus grunts, “you know you can’t.”
 “Fucking watch me!”
 “No, no, Remus,” Thomas splutters, “don’t—don’t do that.”
 “Why the fuck not?” Remus snarls, spittle flying from his lips as he struggles against Janus’s hold. “You heard what Roman just said, they—they—“
 “We did it too, Remus,” Janus says softly, glancing at Roman, “we’re not blameless either.”
 Remus keeps struggling. “Let—me—“
 “Remus.”
 Roman’s soft voice still the duke entirely, his head whipping around. Roman just stares at him, resignation and acceptance written plainly on his features.
 “It’s not fair, Ro,” he mumbles.
 “Life isn’t fair.”
 “I—I can summon them back, we can get them back, they can listen to you—“
 “But they won’t,” Roman cuts off in the same soft fury, “they won’t listen to me.”
 “Roman, they love you!”
 Janus winces. Roman just turns to look at him. He can’t meet his eyes.
 “Maybe,” Roman says eventually, “maybe not. Either way…”
 He spreads his hands.
 “Here we are.”
 “Let me go, Jan.”
 “If I do, will you stay?”
 “Fine.”
 Janus lets him go, only for Remus to lunge and wrap his brother in a tight hug. Roman stands there, immobile, until Remus lets out a howl. Roman just murmurs another soft ‘I’m sorry,' and sinks out.
 Remus collapses to the floor, his Morningstar cupped in his hands.
 “What—what just happened?”
 “The twins share things,” Janus murmurs quietly, his eyes still on Remus, “including emotions when they are particularly strong.”
 “So—“ Thomas shakes his head— “so Remus is feeling what Roman’s feeling?”
 “No,” Remus snarls, still gripping the weapon tightly, “I’m feeling what Roman isn’t feeling.”
 He stands up, eyes blazing.
 “I am what Roman isn’t. To you. What Roman isn’t, I am. Which means—“ his knuckles turn white— “the fact that I’m feeling so strongly right now means that Roman isn’t.”
 Thomas goes pale. “What?”
 “Roman is numb,” Janus says quietly, “he’s closed himself off from…everything. To protect himself.”
 “It means my brother, the good Creativity, passion, desire, romance, hopes and dreams, whatever you want to call him,” Remus growls, “is now numb, touch-starved, and too afraid of rejection to reach out for anything.”
 “What do I do,” Thomas asks frantically, “how do we fix this?”
 “You can let me kill the others.”
 “No, Remus.”
 “Talk to them,” Janus suggests instead, “I’m not sure they realize what Roman being the Ego means.”
 Thomas nods. “Okay, we can do that. Should we do that…now?”
 Janus opens his mouth to respond only for something very familiar to trickle into his mind, along with an all-too-familiar tug.
  Stupid, useless, worthless, toxic, dumb, unimportant, bad, can’t do anything right, selfish, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong—
 “Not now,” he manages, “get some rest. You need it.”
 Thomas nods tiredly. Remus just gives him a look that says ‘you’d better not fuck this up’ and leaves, probably to go work out some of his aggression on creatures in the Imagination.
 Janus sinks straight into Roman’s room and his heart breaks.
 Roman is on the floor, pieces of his prince costume thrown haphazardly around him, sobbing hysterically. It’s so loud that for a moment, Janus worries that someone else will come, trying to figure out what’s wrong, before he’s hit with another wave of lies.
  Broken broken broken broken broken broken broken broken wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong hopeless hopeless hopeless hopeless hopeless hopeless—
 He aches.
 Because he knows he can’t do anything while Roman’s awake. He’d never let him close, never let him see this. A sick feeling crawls into Janus’s stomach at the thought of invading Roman’s privacy like this but it wars with the knowledge that he’d be summoned anyway, and that Roman is falling apart.
 So he has to wait.
 Watching as Roman falls apart, believing himself unloved, unwanted, and unseen.
 Slowly, far too slowly, the harsh sobs morph into softer cries, then sniffles, then Roman stills, slumping on the carpet as his breathing evens out. Tears of his own threaten the corners of Janus’s eyes.
 The poor thing cried himself to sleep.
 But as he moves closer, reaching out a hand to stroke back his hair, he lets out a coo before he can stop himself when he sees more tears.
 The poor thing cried himself to sleep and kept crying.
 “Oh, sweetie,” Janus whispers, moving to cradle him as gently as he can without waking him, “sweetie you come here, shh, shh, honey, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”
 He lifts the poor prince into his arms, moving swiftly to the bed and laying him down, tucking him in protectively and running his fingers through his hair.
 “It’s okay, sweetie, you’re safe now, it’s okay, you’re safe…” He settles Roman’s head on the pillow. “Shh, shh, shh, that’s it, shh…”
 Sleep-clumsy fingers curl around his arms. Oh. Oh, dear. Well…
 “Oh, sweetie, are you—do you want me to stay?” Janus tries to pull away a bit only for Roman to grumble and hang on. “Oh—okay, sweetie, I’ll stay, just—just a moment.”
 He snaps the fingers on a free hand and changes into something softer, something he can sleep in, something Roman can hold and cuddle. He slides into bed next to him, only to be immediately cuddled by a sleeping, still crying Roman.
 “Shh, sweetie,” he whispers, nuzzling Roman’s head, “I’m right here, I’m not leaving, I won’t leave you.”
 Roman mumbles something and snuggles into Janus’s chest. He makes another comforting noise at the evidence of more tears.
 “It’s gonna be okay, sweetie, I promise, I’ll look after you, I’ll take care of you.”
 And when Roman lets out a little cry, still asleep, he breaks, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
 Roman melts.
 “Oh, sweetie…”
 Janus spoils him with kisses, across his forehead, down his tear-stained cheeks, running his hands through his hair, down his arms, over his back, soothing a particularly painful hitch with a hand on his tummy, rubbing gently until he lapses back into a peaceful sleep. He buries his face in Roman’s hair and holds him tight.
 He swallows heavily, guilt and concern warring in his throat.
 “I don’t want you to think,” he begins carefully, “that I’m only apologizing because I feel guilty over seeing you hurt and that it’s my fault.”
 He tightens his grip on the sleeping prince.
 “I am sorry, Roman,” he whispers with his lips against Roman’s forehead as if to speak the truth into the prince’s dreams, “for all the hurt I have caused you. For using and manipulating you, for dismissing you and letting you think you were useless, and for letting the others make you believe you were so unlovable.”
 He shudders, his breath coming out shaky.
 “But mostly…” he swallows, “mostly I’m sorry that I won’t be brave enough to say that to you when you’re awake.”
 +1.
Janus blinks. There’s sunlight coming in through the curtains.
 His room definitely has curtains.
 Oh. Right. He’s in Roman’s room.
 Shit, he’s still in Roman’s room.
 He’s fallen asleep, he realizes, in Roman’s bed, with Roman cuddled protectively to his chest, after the poor thing had sobbed himself to sleep in the aftermath of that awful, awful meeting.
 Unconsciously, he goes to tighten his grip on the sleeping prince before realizing that he should be doing the opposite.
 He should leave. Now. Before Roman wakes up and sees him.
 He definitely wants to be around for that conversation.
 So, despite the ache in his stomach at the thought of leaving Roman alone right now, he grits his teeth and starts trying to disentangle himself from Roman, despite Roman’s best efforts to cling onto him. If he weren’t so afraid of the consequences of getting caught, he’d find it adorable.
 Okay, maybe he still finds it adorable.
 But Roman’s so soft when he sleeps, so lovely, so unabashed at chasing what he wants. He clings to Janus’s shirt with clumsy fingers, burbles soft noises of protest when Janus’s warmth leaves his side.
 “Come on, sweetie,” Janus coaxes, gently prying Roman’s fingers off, “let me go, you don’t want me to be here when you wake up.”
 “Mmno.”
 “You say that now…” He still won’t let go. “Come on, sweetie, let me go…”
 He leans down to press a kiss to his cheek, hoping Roman will melt and he can escape.
 “That’s it, just go back to sleep, sweetie,” he murmurs, his voice low and hypnotic, carding his fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead, “sleep, sleep, sleep…”
 “Stay,” comes the sleepy little mumble, its voice still lost in the dream, “take care ‘f me.”
 The earnest plea brings a sad little smile to Janus’s face.
 “If you knew who I was,” he whispers, “you wouldn’t ask that.”
 Roman opens his eyes and stares right at him.
 Janus freezes, his hands still caught in Roman’s hair, Roman’s hands still gripping his shirt.
 “Stay,” Roman repeats, his tongue thick with sleep but awake, “don’t run away this time.”
 This time?
 Oh.
  Oh.
  Oh, no.
 Janus swallows. “How long—“
 “You said you didn’t hate me,” Roman mumbles, still tugging on Janus’s shirt to get him back, “and that it hurt more that the others didn’t realize.”
 “You were supposed to be asleep.”
 “You were supposed to hate me.” Roman tugs harder. “Come back.”
 Janus gets slowly back into position, letting Roman cling to him like a child with a teddy bear. Without permission, his own arms wrap around the sleepy prince, and Roman all but purrs.
 “We c’n talk later,” the prince mumbles, already drifting back to sleep, “but stay. Want you to stay.”
 And…well, if it’s the first time Roman’s asked for something he wants in god knows how long, what else is Janus supposed to do but obey?
 “Alright, sweetie, I’m right here,” he murmurs, curling his arms tightly around the poor prince, “do you want to try and go back to sleep?”
 “Mm.”
 But his eyes don’t drift closed. Instead, they stay glassily alert, one hand fisted loosely in the slack of Janus’s shirt.
 “Sweetie,” Janus calls after a little, “do you want to change into something easier to sleep in?”
 He lifts one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug.
 “Can I help?”
 Another shrug. Janus tucks a loose piece of hair behind Roman’s ear, snapping his fingers to put the costume on the mannequin in the closet and replace it with a soft red shirt and boxers. He presses another kiss to Roman’s forehead and ruffles his hair.
 “Why don’t you hate me?”
 Janus frowns, pulling Roman closer. “How could I hate you?”
 He holds a finger gently up to the prince’s lips before the lies can fill Roman’s head again.
 “Let me rephrase: I don’t hate you, Roman, I promise.”
 Roman’s disbelief is palpable. “But why?”
 ...maybe he is going to have to do this.
 “I can hear lies,” he murmurs, “whenever someone says them or thinks them. If they’re not true, I’ll hear it. No, no—stay here, sweetie, shh, I’m not angry, I’m not disappointed. I can hear them when you tell yourself that you’re worthless, or toxic, or that we all hate you.”
 He lifts Roman’s chin gently.
 “They’re lies, sweetie, that’s why I can hear them. You’re not worthless, you’re not toxic.”
 Roman whimpers.
 “You’re not broken,” he continues softly, holding him still, “you’re not hard to love, we don’t hate you.”
 He cups Roman’s face and pulls him in to rest their foreheads together.
 “And I care about you, sweetie, so, so much.”
 Roman’s breath shudders warmly on his cheeks.
 “Shh, shh, oh, come here, sweetie—there you go, you can cry, honey, I’ve got you, I’m right here, shh, shh...”
 The weight of the prince’s tears drying on his collar makes it hard to swallow. He tugs the blankets closer around them and lets Roman cling onto him as he cries.
 “I know you don’t believe me,” he whispers as familiar lies start to drift across, “but it’s true, sweetie. It’s true, it’s true, I promise. I’m here to take care of you.”
 “I’m—I’m sorry—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sor—sorry—“
 “Shh-shh-shh, don’t apologize to me, sweetie, you don’t have to apologize, I’m right here, I’m not angry, nothing’s so bad.”
 “I’m sorry.”
 Janus hushes him gently with a kiss to his cheek. “I know you are...even though you don’t have to be, not like this.”
 His chest aches when Roman won’t stop burbling apologies.
 “Roman.” He takes the prince’s face firmly in his hands. “Roman, look at me.”
 Roman’s glassy eyes fixate on Janus’s face.
 “I forgive you, my prince,” he says, “I forgive you.”
 Roman’s mouth stills.
 “If that is what you need to hear,” he continues, softening his grip, “I forgive you, my prince.”
 “You...you do?”
 “I don’t want you to think that you need my forgiveness for me to love you,” Janus murmurs, “but yes, sweetie. I forgive you.”
 Roman collapses.
 Janus catches him. Of course, he catches him. He curls around his prince and murmurs sweet nothings, reassurances, anything he needs right now.
 It’s messy, it’s frantic, it’s desperate, it’s human.
 He can care for Roman while Roman lets himself be human. So he holds the poor thing while he cries himself out.
 He doesn’t cry himself to sleep again, thankfully, just enough to slump against Janus’s chest and huff.
 “Sorry.”
 “No need to apologize, that was long overdue.” He runs his knuckles up Roman’s back. “Can we get you something to drink?”
 Roman stiffens. “Does that mean going downstairs?”
 “No, sweetie. Come on...”
 He gets Roman seated on the edge of the bed with a glass of water in his hands. Roman drinks, blinking as Janus passes him a warm cloth, then a cool cloth, to clean his face.
 “What do they want me to do,” he asks after he’s finished the glass and the cloths are hanging over the laundry basket, “now?”
 Janus winces. Is he surprised? No.
 “Shh, sweetie, I’m not angry,” he soothes when Roman tenses, “I’m concerned. You’re still—you still need to take care of yourself first before you worry about everyone else.”
  But everyone else is worthy of the worrying, not me.
 Janus hisses gently. Roman just sighs.
 “It’s what you’ve told me,” he mumbles, “I don’t—I can’t just stop it.”
 “I’m not expecting you to be able to just stop it, sweetie, it’s going to take time, but part of it is going to be recognizing what’s not true.”
 “I know.”
 Janus opens his mouth to say something else when Roman gasps, his hand flying to his chest.
 “Sweetie? Sweetie, what is it?”
 “I’m—I’m being summoned.” Roman clutches his shirt, staring up at Janus. “Thomas—Thomas—“
 “I’ll go.” Janus gives Roman’s shoulder a squeeze. “Just wait here for me, sweetie, I’ll be right back.”
 He can still feel the warmth of Roman’s shoulder tingling under his palm as he appears in the living room.
 “I’m sure you have a wonderful reason for trying to summon Roman,” he drawls, raising an eyebrow at a Thomas.
 Thomas looks up from his computer. “We were still filming.”
 Janus stiffens. “You’re not thinking of trying to continue—“
 “What? No, no, I’m saying that while Roman was talking the camera was still rolling.” Thomas points to the screen. “Which means we have it. All of it.”
 Ah, now he sees where Thomas is going.
 “You want them to watch.”
 “They should, shouldn’t they?”
 Yes, a bitter part of Janus growls, they should see how badly they’ve made Thomas’s Ego crumble.
 “What do you think?”
 Thomas rolls his shoulders back. “I think up until Roman said...all of that, I didn’t think the others were wrong either.”
 He glances up at Janus.
 “Did you?”
 Janus huffs. “I don’t think we ever give Roman enough credit for how good of an actor he is.”
 With that, the whole sorry tale spills out of him. He doesn’t reveal the exact nature of the lies, just the broad swaths of them and how many there are. To Thomas’s credit, he deals with it better than Janus expected. That is, he doesn’t burst into tears.
 Thomas takes a deep breath.
 “...yeah, we’re watching this now.”
 “Right now?”
 “Answer me this,” Thomas says, looking up at him again, “where is Roman? Right now?”
 “...on his bed.” At Thomas’s pointed stare, he relents. “He’s not alright, Thomas, he hasn’t been for a very long time.”
 “Then yeah. Right now.”
 “Then I’m going to ask Roman if he wants to be here.”
 Thomas nods. “Can you—can you tell him I’m sorry?”
 “You can do that yourself when he’s ready to hear it.”
 Understandably, Roman does not want to be there. Janus wraps him tightly in the softest blankets he has, tucked up with a pillow and a glass of water nearby if he wants it, along with the reassurance that if Roman wants him back here, at any point, to call. He’ll listen.
 “Thank you.”
 Janus leaves him with one last squeeze, appearing in the living room with the others. Thomas is back to setting up the computer so they can all see the screen.
 “Thomas?” Logan adjusts his tie. “I was unaware we had something scheduled for today.”
 “We didn’t. Spur of the moment.”
 Remus shoots Janus a look. Janus nods. Remus shifts a little closer to him and his hand grips his Morningstar.
 “Is this about the video from yesterday?” Virgil looks around warily. “Or is it something else?”
 “It is about yesterday.”
 “Shouldn’t we...wait for Roman?”  Patton rubs the back of his neck. “He kinda—well, if we’re talking about yesterday—“
 “Roman’s not coming.” Thomas keeps fiddling with the computer.
 Logan raises an eyebrow. “Are we deciding how to film the video without Roman?”
 “No.” Thomas glances at Janus. Janus nods. Thomas looks back at the others. “Roman’s not coming because he doesn’t want to.”
 “What the fuck?”
 “Language, kiddo,” Patton mumbles halfheartedly.
 “Wait, so—“ Virgil doesn’t look so much as chided— “you’re just gonna let Princey throw his temper tantrum and not come work?”
 “How much attention were you guys paying to what happened after you sunk out yesterday?”
 “…not much, why?”
 In response, Thomas just pushes ‘play.’
 Their voices fill the room, telling Roman what he’s done wrong, why he’s holding all of them back, why he’s the source of all their problems. Lies, lies, and more lies. They get to the part where the other three sink out and Remus tightens his grip on the handle.
  “…you want me to apologize?”
 Virgil opens his mouth, presumably to make some quip, only to cut himself off with a strangled noise once Roman’s apologies begin.
 Janus watches with a sick sense of satisfaction as Patton’s hands fly to his mouth, eyes wide at the hopeless tone coming out of the computer. Next to him, Virgil goes rigid, borderline catatonic. He looks as if one little push would send him toppling over.
 He can’t see Logan’s face until Thomas stops the playback. It’s only when Logan takes his glasses off to clean them that he can see the tears on his cheeks.
 Thomas looks up at Janus.
 “Can you still hear them?”
 “The lies?” Thomas nods. “Yes.”
 There’s a moment of silence.
 “Roman is the Ego,” Logan whispers, mostly to himself, “Roman is the Ego. Of course…of course, I understand—I understand now.”
 “What does that mean?”
 Logan takes a deep breath and looks up at Patton. “It means that Roman is Thomas’s sense of self-worth, more or less, and that he—he takes the brunt of Thomas’s reactions to…any sort of feedback, more than any of us. Good or bad.”
 Virgil stifles a curse. “And we’ve taught him to hate himself.”
 “Quite.”
 “We—“ Patton takes a breath— “we need to apologize.”
 “We all do.” Thomas closes the computer and sets it aside. “I don’t…I don’t know how we do that, though.”
 “Breaking patterns of thinking is hard,” Logan says, “and…especially hard when you have been taught not to ask for help.”
 “But there has to be something!”
 “Touch-starved,” Virgil breaks in, staring at a spot on the carpet, “Roman’s touch-starved.”
 Janus raises an eyebrow.
 “…when I was still having trouble,” Virgil says after a moment of them all looking at him, “Roman—Roman would just come and ask me if I wanted to—to—“
 He hunches his shoulders.
 “Sometimes it’d be a hug. Sometimes he’d sit next to me and—and lean on me. Sometimes he’d just—you know, with the forehead thing—“
 “Bonk.”
 They all turn to Logan, who has…a surprising flush to his cheeks.
 “Roman said that he—he wanted to be able to express affection for me and not disturb my work,” he manages, “so we…came up with a solution.”
 Patton blinks. “Is that why Roman will just walk up to you and bonk his forehead against yours?”
 “Yes.”
 “Huh.”
 “That’s adorable,” Thomas says quietly, “that’s—wait, hang on, that’s really adorable.”
 “It was Roman’s idea.” Logan swallows. “Most of his ideas are good.”
 “Yeah,” Thomas says, “maybe we should try telling him that next time.”
 Janus looks around. The others look to be in various states of remorse and determination. With the exception of Remus, who still looks like he wants to bash a few of their skulls in.
 “…can we go hug Roman now?”
 “I wanna do that.”
 “If he’s—“ Logan glances between Thomas and Janus— “do you know if he would be amenable to that? If he—would like that?”
 “We can ask,” Janus says quietly, “but I don’t know.”
 “And if he says no,” Remus growls, “you get out.”
 “We understand, Remus,” Logan promises. He looks at Thomas. “Thank you, Thomas.”
 Thomas shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. Not yet. We all have stuff to fix.”
 Janus adjusts his cape. “Then let’s get started, shall we?”
 They don’t sink right to Roman’s room. Instead, Janus knocks quietly on the door and waits for the soft ‘yes?’ from the other side to open it.
 “Roman,” he calls softly, “hey, sweetie, why’re you over there?”
 Because Roman, the poor thing, is at his desk, trying to work.
 “I—um—“
 “I’m not angry, sweetie,” he murmurs, arms going around the prince to pull him up out of the desk chair, “just concerned.”
 “I figured that if I got to work they’d be less mad that I wasn’t there,” Roman mumbles, even as he lets Janus pull him back to the bed, “so I…”
 “Oh, sweetie, no one’s angry at you.”
 Roman looks up at him with such a heartbreaking look of disbelief that he lets out a soft noise, cupping his face.
 “Would you believe me if I said they want to apologize and make it up to you?”
 “No.”
 He squints. “Have you believed anything I’ve told you since you woke up?”
 “No.”
 The lack of hesitation makes his eyes widen. Leaning forward, he rests his forehead against Roman’s as he pulls off his gloves, reaching up to cup the prince’s head.
 “I meant every word,” he murmurs, doing his best to wipe away the bits of salt in the corners of his eyes, “every single word.”
 He pauses, then leans closer.
 “They’re sorry, Roman,” he whispers, “they’re so sorry and they want to know how to make it better.”
  They don’t want you. They hate you. They’ve never cared about you. They don’t even want to touch you.
 Janus hisses softly as he pulls Roman in for a hug. The poor thing still reacts like it’s the first time someone’s touched him in years.
 “They want to see you, sweetie,” he whispers, “and I believe their exact words were ‘can we go hug Roman now?’”
 “W-what?”
 In response, Janus pulls away a little and nods to the door. Roman’s eyes widen.
 “Can we let them in, sweetie?”
 “They’re here?”
 “Right outside.”
 “They want—they want to—“
 Roman’s desperate gaze flies to the door. He raises a shaking hand and lets it open.
 Patton’s through the door before it’s even all the way open. Roman lets out a wounded noise as Patton barrels into them, his arms wrapped around Roman before Janus can blink.
 “Pat—Patton—Pa—wha—?”
 “I’m sorry, Roman, I’m so sorry, kiddo—“
 Virgil follows not too long after, pulling Roman’s legs into his lap and reaching out to take Roman’s outstretched hand.
 “Hey, Princey,” he says, the growl from not five minutes ago softened to a low rumble, “missed you.”
 “Mis—miss—missed me?”
 “Yeah, Roman, missed you. Didn’t feel the same without you there.”
 Then Logan. As Patton and Virgil move to get Roman into a more comfortable position, Logan sits behind him so that when Roman leans back, his head rests against Logan’s shoulder. Logan reaches up to tangle his fingers in Roman’s hair, smiling softly at the low noise from Roman’s throat.
 “Bonk?”
 Roman nods, still blinking in confusion but lets Logan press his forehead gently to his.
 “Thank you, little star,” he murmurs, smiling at the way Roman’s mouth falls open, “I didn’t forget, Roman, even if I haven’t been the best at showing it.”
 “We don’t hate you, Princey,” Virgil says, squeezing his hand, “and we—well, we owe you one hell of an apology.”
 “But we don’t have to talk about that now.” Patton adjusts his grip around Roman’s waist. “Not if you don’t want to.”
 Remus picks this moment to not walk through the door and climb onto the bed but to sink down through the ceiling and land on top of them.
 “Re!”
 “Hey, Ro-Bro.”
 “Re, get off, you—it’s too much.”
Remus rolls to the side, right into Janus’s lap, effectively making sure that none of them are leaving, not that they particularly wanted to.
 Janus watches as Roman slowly asks if they can stay like this for a while, smiling when the answer is a resounding ‘yes,’ the cuddle pile closing in around their prince. Roman’s head rests against the crook of Logan’s neck, one of his hands wrapped in Janus’s, the other in Virgil’s. His legs lie in Virgil’s lap, Patton cuddling him protectively as Logan strokes his head. Remus and Janus keep watch, sentries over the resting prince.
 For the first time, in a long time, as Roman drifts off to sleep, the only lie in his head is this won’t last forever.
 They’ve got time to prove him wrong.
General Taglist: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness  @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes  @iminyourfandom  @bullet-tothefeels  @full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83  @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious  @firefinch-ember  @fandomssaremysoul  @im-an-anxious-wreck  @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch  @enby-ralsei  @unicornssunflowersandstuff  @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams  @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb  @cricketanne  @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer  @i-am-overly-complicated  @annytheseal  @alias290  @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions
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pynkhues · 2 years
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with the last anon about Kendall in season four, I feel like Kendall has a tendency to slot himself into roles for whatever people need him for, and I think in the first few episodes he'll try and be making himself handmaiden to siblings as Strong said, and will probably have some kind of other breakdown (cos from a show perspective, what else are you going to do with an actor like Jeremy Strong? give him a break? pls)
(x)
That's a really good point about Kendall tending to slot himself into the role people need him for, and I think especially given the fact that he's been through this shutdown / shutout from their father a few times now, it makes sense that he'd want to handmaid Shiv and Roman through it. Even more so given they just did the same for him through his confession.
And haha, you're totally right that they'll probably want to keep giving Jeremy Strong breakdown material (those Emmys won't win themselves!!) I think there's actually a lot of room for it going ahead too given the aftermath of his alienating so many people during s3. Plus I'm particularly curious as to how they handle his addiction in the new season as it seemed to narratively be pushed to the side up until Shiv called him on it during the intervention.
On top of that, I think the re-introduction of and re-emphasis on Rava, and the fact that Kendall's children were there during his not-quite-suicide attempt opens up a lot of space narratively. Rava already put the brakes on Kendall seeing the kids in 1.07 after Logan planted the stories about his relapse, and I got the impression in s2 that Kendall was probably deliberately not having much to do with them as he was withdrawing from everyone in his life.
I'm actually not even sure if Kendall and Rava are divorced yet? I don't think it's really been mentioned since they had their ugly conversation about it in 1.10, and while their interactions in s3 made it clear they were more separated than they were in s1, I don't think we've ever actually had confirmation if they legally divorced. I could see him signing the papers in s2 when he moved out of their house just to be done with it about as easily as I could see him shutting down and not engaging with it at all and Rava giving up for a while, haha. Either way though, I can't imagine she won't find out about what happened in Tuscany, and what that means for the custody arrangement feels like a pretty ripe area to explore.
It could be an interesting sort of compounding in s4 too if Logan's excising them from the family while both Kendall and Shiv manage the final dissolutions of the families they've tried to make themselves, and reiterates the themes of legacy and succession that are so core to the show. I'm not sure, but I can't wait to find out!
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foursideharmony · 3 years
Text
Okay, so remember this post I made a few months ago about how I think the Mindscape “works” in terms of structure? I thought I should also share some of my headcanons about how the Sides themselves work.
(Note: I prefer to capitalize Side because it’s a fairly common word on its own, and this distinguishes the characters we love so much from other uses which are likely to crop up.)
Question #1: Do they need to eat, sleep, etc.? You know what? I think they do. Your brain functions need energy and downtime in order to keep operating at peak efficiency, and that translates, in the Mindscape, into actual food and sleep.
It can be entirely literal—the food that Thomas eats becomes stored caloric energy, and that manifests in the Mindscape as the stuff available in the Sides’ fridge and pantry. What they have available reflects the kind of stuff he’s been eating lately, so they try to influence his eating habits in accordance with their tastes. Logan wants perfect nutritional balance, Patton’s into comfort food, Roman wants to experiment with flavors and try gourmet and exotic cuisine, etc.
As for sleep/rest, I think they need differing amounts, which may or may not correspond to Thomas’s own sleep schedule. Logan sleeps when Thomas does, almost by definition. Virgil has to drift off before Thomas can sleep…but he is the lightest sleeper of the lot, and might well wake up in the middle of the night and start poking Thomas’s dreams. Roman and Patton can both remain active all night, on and off, but balance it by being the most likely to need naps during the day. (Ever had a night of intense dreams that leave you with subdued emotional affect the next day? That happens to Thomas too...it means Patton stayed up way too late and is sleeping in.) Janus and Remus have, I think, unpredictable sleep patterns, and are especially prone to timing their bouts of activity for when at least three other Sides are asleep, so Thomas is caught off-guard.
Question #2: Can they be hurt? Well, the answer to this one is an unambiguous YES, as proven in several episodes, so let’s tweak it: How can they be hurt, and how do they recover from being hurt? Yeah, that’s much more fun to speculate about!
Not only can the Sides be injured, but the show gives us two ways it can happen. The simpler one is, they can hurt each other, just like real people can hurt each other. We have several instances in the series of Sides throwing things at each other and causing pain or injury as a result. I extend that to mean that they can also be injured within the Mindscape via household accidents, misadventure in the Imagination, etc. That’s their “world,” and it can affect them just as the physical world affects physical people.
The other way they can be hurt, of course, is if something happens in Thomas’s life that negatively impacts his self-image vis-à-vis their function. We saw this happen in “My NEGATIVE Thinking” when Roman, as Thomas’s ego, was “bruised” by his fumble at the audition. It’s easy to imagine situations where this happens to other Sides. Thomas’s feelings might be hurt, which means Patton takes a hit. Or he might have his intelligence called into question, which could damage Logan. Fortunately, they apparently heal this damage as soon as Thomas gets over whichever crisis caused it. This leads me to my major thesis statement about their faux-physicality:
The Sides’ “physical” condition is largely determined by their expectations.
The Sides aren’t precisely human. They are, however, aspects of a human, which means they have human experiences of the world, human reactions to events, and human expectations regarding their environment. Thomas knows that when a wadded-up piece of paper hits your eye, it hurts, and so Roman knows it too, and so when a wadded-up piece of paper hits his eye, it hurts. It’s actually the same mechanism by which Thomas flubbing his audition causes Roman to become bruised. The audition goof changes Roman’s opinion of himself from “amazing actor” to “terrible actor,” and since Thomas’s acting ability is a major part of his function, that damages him. Being hit in the eye with a wadded-up piece of paper changes his self-image from “person who is totally fine” to “person who has just been hit in the eye with a wadded-up piece of paper,” and because he knows it’s supposed to hurt, that damages him. Not much, since being hit in the eye with a wadded-up piece of paper only hurts a little, and briefly, but that’s the process.
And that’s why Logan is able to shake off Remus’s violent attacks in “Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts.” As Logic, Logan is able to maintain the presence of mind to remember that they are not actually physically real, and therefore the attacks aren’t actually happening to anyone. He still reels when Remus hurls a shuriken into his forehead, because that’s a reflexive reaction, but he is braced for it; it does not affect his self-image enough to do any lasting damage. Perhaps the other Sides could also “roll to disbelieve” in this fashion, but it would likely be much harder for them, because they are not cold hard Logic.
If an injury does stick, expectations also govern how fast they recover. Fortunately for the Sides, it’s not as straightforward as the process of getting hurt in the first place. Although they know, like Thomas does, how long many types of injuries take to heal, for them it can go much faster because of the self-image thing. Say Patton trips going down the stairs. He breaks his arm because the fall changes his self-image to “person who just fell down the stairs OOOOOWWWWWW,” and he remains that way for a time. But with proper care, he soon starts to feel better, his self-image changes again to “person who is getting better,” and this accelerates his healing process.
All the whumpy goodness a fan writer could want, without the hassle of long-term impairment or permanent damage.
Question #3: Can they…you know…bite the big one?
I honestly haven’t given this one as much thought as the other questions…or as much thought as some other fans have. Here are the possibilities I’ve seen explored:
No. No matter how much damage a Side takes, he can’t actually die. Chop off his head, and he walks around carrying it. It probably looks annoyed.
Yes, but not permanently. They come back after a while. The exact length of the while depends on the writer, and sometimes varies by method of death. In some cases, they spring back to life, while in others, the “body” disappears and reforms later in some designated part of the Mindscape. They might lose some memories in the process or otherwise be altered slightly.
Yes, and it’s awful. Eventually a new personification will form in order to be that Side of Thomas’s personality, but the original is gone forever and we will all miss him terribly.
Yes, and it’s devastating for Thomas, who outright loses that facet of himself for the rest of his life. AND we miss the dead Side terribly.
I tend to lean toward the first two answers myself. It seems to me that the only way to outright erase part of someone’s personality is for the person to willingly and deliberately undergo intensive therapy to that specific end, and even then, I think it would result in the Side transforming into something very different, rather than going away forever. And it would be a slow enough process that the transformation itself would seem like a natural evolution rather than a replacement of one character with another.
But ultimately? I don’t know. More to the point, in my headcanon-verse, neither do the Sides. It makes for better drama if they have no idea how mortal they are and don’t dare to find out.
Wow, this went on longer than I expected. I hope you all enjoyed it!
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c-swirlz · 3 years
Text
Pure Imagination
Summary: Thomas has never really questioned the existence of humanoid fragments of his personality, but when strange dreams start worming their way into his sleeping hours, he decides it’s time to get some answers. Meanwhile, Logic, Creativity and Morality are dealing with a few of their own problems.
Relationship(s): None
Warning(s): Panic attack, swearing
[AO3 link]
This was written for the TSS Fanworks Collective’s April Reverse Mini Bang challenge. The rules of the challenge were simple: claim a piece of submitted art and write fic inspired by it. The art I chose was drawn by @amayakumiko, and it can be found here.
Everyone has an imagination. From the elderly to the newborns, everyone is capable of warping reality within their own head. Some imaginations are tame. Others are wild. Some people imagine life in another country and the adventures they could have. Others imagine life in a fantasy world where society’s rules don’t apply. Everyone’s imagination is different. That’s what makes it such a special thing.
There are a handful of people who are more imaginative than the rest of humanity. They’re a rare breed, and it is said only three are born across a ten-year period. Of course, such powerful imaginations can’t go to waste, so it has been decided that a gift shall be bestowed upon every individual who possesses it. The first to receive this gift shall be a boy named Thomas Sanders.
*****
In an ordinary house on an ordinary street, a shadow looms over the small crib five month old Thomas is sleeping in. A leather pouch is opened, revealing many different colours of shimmering glitter. The dark blue and indigo glitter is retrieved, and with unnatural precision, it is sprinkled onto Thomas.
The glitter glows brightly. Thomas is surrounded by an aura that glows both dark blue and indigo. The glitter dissolves, and the aura fades along with it.
Red glitter is retrieved from the pouch. It’s sprinkled onto Thomas, causing him to stir but not wake. The aura that momentarily surrounds him glows a bright imperial red.
More glitter is retrieved. This time, it’s light blue and cyan. Once again, Thomas’ aura adopts the colours as he’s showered by the magical substance. The aura glows dark blue, indigo, imperial red, light blue and cyan all at once before it fades again.
Thomas stirs again. His bottom lip trembles and he whimpers. Unlike before, he doesn’t relax. Several other colours of glitter are sprinkled onto him, and his face twitches as it falls onto the delicate skin of his cheeks and forehead. His restlessness grows as his aura appears once again. It glows a variety of different colours. 
Thomas’ lips part and a quiet, distressed noise escapes. His tiny eyes blink open, and they well up with unshed tears.
His aura fades. He sobs loudly. His parents wake up and scurry out of their shared bed frantically to check on him, and on the ground near his crib, they find an empty leather pouch.
They’ve never seen it before.
*****
Logic /ˈlɒdʒɪk/ NOUN Reasoning conducted or assessed according to strict principles of validity.
Logan has no idea how he — or his fellow Sides, for that matter — came to be. He knows they haven’t always had physical forms. He knows they haven’t always been able to speak to Thomas face-to-face. He knows there’s no logical explanation, yet he’s always searching for one.
Fragments of an individual’s personality shouldn’t have an independent conscience. They shouldn’t have physical forms. They shouldn’t be able to do things no other human can.
Logan knows everything Thomas does. Or, more accurately, he knows everything Thomas has learned over the years, and he retains that knowledge even after Thomas has forgotten it. Science is something Thomas seems to remember the most about, but math… oh, math. The amount of mathematical formulas Thomas has forgotten frustrates Logan to no end.
Thomas and Logan share a mind. They share their knowledge, and that knowledge helps them grow. Thomas asks questions, and most of the time, Logan is the one who answers them. He’s an intellectual, but he doesn’t know everything.
He wishes he did.
*****
“Logic?”
Thomas’ tentative call tugs gently in Logan’s chest. When Logan rises up, he finds his Whole sitting at the desk in the corner of the room, his head in his hands.
“What can I do for you, Thomas?”
Thomas lowers his hands and sighs. He gestures to the sheet of paper on the desk and picks up the pencil sitting beside it. “Homework.”
Logan’s head tilts. “You… require assistance?”
Thomas nods.
“Have you not asked your teachers for help?”
Thomas averts his gaze, bites his lip and shakes his head. “I would, but I don’t want it to seem like I wasn’t paying attention to the lectures. Plus, I... feel like I ask them for help a little too often.”
Logan’s expression softens. He approaches Thomas, careful not to get too close. They still don’t know what will happen if they make physical contact with their Whole, and Logan doesn’t plan on being the one to find out.
“What are you having trouble with?”
Thomas moves to point out what question he’s stuck on, but stops. There’s silence for a beat, then a quiet clatter breaks it when Thomas puts the pencil down.
“Y’know what, nevermind. I have plenty of time to finish this, it’s fine.”
Logan’s brow furrows. Thomas stands and moves to his bed. Logan follows, but chooses to stand nearby as Thomas drapes himself across the blanket, effectively wrinkling it.
“Is something the matter, Thomas?”
Thomas sits up and his gaze snaps up to meet Logan’s eyes. “No,” he says, far too quickly.
“Are you sure?” Logan asks. He takes a seat beside Thomas, and he pushes down the odd urge to place a hand on his Whole’s shoulder. “You seem distressed. If something is bothering you, talking about it may help.”
Thomas sighs and lowers his head. His bangs flop down, partially hiding his face.
“I’ve been having… dreams. Weird ones.”
Logan raises an eyebrow. “It’s not uncommon for someone to have strange dreams every now and again—“
“That’s the thing,” Thomas interrupts. He lifts his head and turns it to lock eyes with Logan. “Logic, I’ve been having these dreams for days now, and they won’t stop.”
Logan blinks. “Ah. That is… rather concerning. Can you remember any of your dreams?”
Thomas’ brow furrows in thought. “Well, I remember I almost drowned in glitter Monday night.” He laughs. “That was weird.”
Logan summons a notepad and jots something down. Thomas waits patiently for him to stop scribbling before he speaks again.
“Wednesday night was pretty freaky. I was in some really dark room, and I could hear whispering. I remember seeing weird flashes of colour, but I wasn’t able to get a proper look before they disappeared.”
Logan nods and jots another note down. “You didn’t experience any odd dreams on Tuesday?”
Thomas shakes his head, then pauses. “Wait, shouldn’t you know all this? You’re part of me.”
Logan tucks the pen in his grasp behind his ear. “Dreams are generally Creativity’s department. Unlike him, the rest of us are not automatically made aware of them.”
“Huh.”
The room falls into an awkward silence, save for the tapping of Thomas’ forefinger on the desk. Logan fixes his tie and cleans the lenses of his glasses, just to give him something to do.
“Why am I having these dreams, Logic?”
Logan blinks. “What?”
Thomas looks down at his bare feet, which are hovering just above the carpet. “I wanna know why I’m having these dreams. There has to be a reason, and I guess I just assumed you’d know.”
There’s a lump in Logan’s throat. He swallows, but it doesn’t dislodge.
“I…”
Thomas glances up at Logan. Logan puts on a brave face and looks his Whole in the eye.
“As I said before, dreams are not my department. It would be best to consult Creativity if your concern grows.”
The way Thomas’ expectant face falls makes Logan’s heart sink. He wishes he had an answer, he really does, but nothing is coming to mind. He doesn’t know what’s going on, nor why Thomas is having such strange dreams.
Knowledge is his entire existence. He has to know.
He sinks out. For the rest of the evening, he stays in his room, conducting research and jotting down notes.
He doesn’t eat. He doesn’t sleep.
He has to know.
*****
Creativity /ˌkriːeɪˈtɪvɪti/ NOUN The use of imagination or original ideas to create something; inventiveness.
Roman is a dreamer. He’s a performer; an artist. He’s the one who’s always ready to slay any monsters lurking in the shadows. He’s the hero of the story, and any villains who dare to cross his path will be shown no mercy.
Thomas is an actor. Saying he’s a good one would be an understatement. Both he and Roman are well rehearsed in putting on a mask and performing for an audience, and they’ve gotten rather good at it over the years.
Thomas loves theatre. So does Roman.
Thomas loves Disney. So does Roman.
Thomas has dreams. So does Roman. Not the sort of dreams you have when you’re asleep, but rather aspirations, ambitions and ideals.
Roman shouldn’t have them. Dreams, he means. He’s a facet of a person’s personality. He isn’t an individual. Thomas’ dreams are the ones that matter; his are irrelevant.
It’s one of the many problems Roman has with his existence.
He doesn’t like talking about it.
*****
“Prince?”
Roman greets Thomas with an exaggerated regal bow as he rises up. “Good afternoon, Thomas! What can I do for you on this fine day?”
Thomas puts his phone aside and starts fiddling with his fingers. After a moment, he places his hands on either side of him, and his fingers curl around the soft material of the blanket underneath him.
“I talked to Logic yesterday.” Thomas pauses, but only for a beat. “I told him about the weird dreams I’ve been having.”
Roman sighs. “Yes, I heard about that. Your dreams these past few nights have been quite strange, and oddly enough, they all seem to be connected. Logic’s been trying to figure out what they mean, but I don’t think he’s had much luck so far.”
“Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
Roman shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. Picking out the symbolism of the dreams I oversee isn’t exactly my strong suit.”
Thomas looks away. “Oh.”
Roman smiles warmly. “Don’t fret, Thomas. We’ll figure this out together, okay? These questions won’t go unanswered.”
Thomas glances at Roman, and the corner of his lips curl upward.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Roman grins and starts to sink out.
“Hey, wait.”
Half-submerged in the floor, Roman stops. He rises back up and raises an eyebrow.
Thomas stands and starts fiddling with his fingers again. “I, uh… sorry about Thursday. I know you wanted me to go for the lead in the play.”
Roman waves a dismissive hand, ignoring the sudden tightness in his chest. “Don’t sweat it, Tommy Salami. It’s just a school play, no big deal. They’re practically the same as the ones you participated in back in high school, anyway.”
Thomas giggles. “Tommy Salami? That’s a new one.”
“I have plenty more; I’ve been brainstorming all week.”
Roman and Thomas laugh, and just for a moment, Roman’s tight chest loosens. As their laughter dies down, Roman feels the tightness return.
He ignores it.
*****
Morality [məˈralɪti] NOUN Principles concerning the distinction between right and wrong or good and bad behaviour.
Patton’s job is simple. He determines what’s right and wrong. He makes sure Thomas is honest and encourages him to put others before himself. When Thomas was younger, Patton would repeat the same mantra over and over again.
“Don’t kill, don’t steal. Be honest. Help others and put them first. Be a good person, kiddo.”
When Thomas was younger, his sense of morality was fairly streamlined. Now, slowly but surely, things are becoming more complicated.
Patton hates that. He shouldn’t, but he does.
The moral dilemmas Thomas faces on a daily basis are growing more complex. Though Patton will never admit it, he’s struggling to keep up. It’s getting more and more difficult to determine what the ‘right thing’ to do is, and the pressure is always on Patton to make the call. He’s supposed to know, but sometimes…
Sometimes he doesn’t.
*****
“I’ve figured it out!”
Logan rises up in Patton’s room, grinning from ear to ear. His glasses are slightly askew and he has a large pile of notebooks and stray pieces of paper stacked precariously in his arms. Patton scrambles over to help Logan by taking some of his load, but then has to quickly dump them onto his bed as his arms begin to shake under the weight he was unprepared to carry.
Patton turns around to face Logan and laughs. “Wow, Logan, I haven’t seen you this happy in… well, ever! But, uh… what did you figure out, exactly?”
Logan rolls his eyes and places his load on the ground at his feet. He fixes his glasses, straightens his tie and runs a hand through his hair a few times before clearing his throat. Patton’s heart sinks at the way Logan’s expression quickly settles back into one of cold indifference.
“I think I’ve finally managed to figure out why we exist in this particular form,” Logan gestures to himself, “and why Thomas is able to summon us to his side at will.”
“This is about all those weird dreams Thomas keeps having, right? Roman mentioned it the other day.”
Logan nods. “It is.” He pauses. “Well, partially. I believe the dreams are a result of an event that occurred during an earlier stage of Thomas’ life. I'm thinking it’s either a result of some kind of genetic mutation, or a genetic alteration.”
Patton blinks.
“...What about the glitter?”
Logan stills.
“What.”
Patton’s brow furrows. “Wasn’t there glitter in one of Thomas’ dreams? I could’ve sworn Roman mentioned it…”
Logan blinks. Slowly, a realisation dawns on him.
“Oh, of course, the glitter.” Logan gently hits the side of his head with his palm. “I completely forgot that was a factor.” He sighs and pushes his glasses up his nose. “Now I’ll have to revise everything,” he mutters.
Patton frowns. “Maybe you should take a break, Logan. You’ve been working on this,” he gestures to the stacks of notebooks, “for a really long time.”
“I’ve taken plenty of breaks, Patton.”
Patton crosses his arms. “I mean a proper one.”
Logan huffs. “Patton, I’m not a child. You do not have to… monitor me.”
Patton’s eyes go wide. “Monitor—“ He stops, squeezes his eyes shut and massages his temples. He releases a slow, steady breath before he opens his eyes and lowers his arms. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”
Logan scoffs and looks away.
“Logan, what’s gotten into you?”
Logan chooses to ignore the question as he retrieves his notebooks.
“I really should’ve expected this.”
“Wha — What—“ Patton splutters. “Expected what?”
“You are the heart. I am the mind. It’s common for us to be at odds, especially when you’d always rather Thomas spend time with friends rather than study.”
When Logan looks at Patton, there’s fire in his eyes. He’s glaring daggers, and Patton has to force himself not to flinch away.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Patton’s voice is loud, and he’s very close to yelling. He hopes he won’t have to resort to such an extreme.
Logan shakes his head. “Nothing.”
He sinks out, and Patton is left alone in Nostalgia Nirvana as guilt settles in his chest like a pebble.
*****
Anxiety /aŋˈzʌɪəti/ NOUN A feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease about something with an uncertain outcome.
A nervous disorder marked by excessive uneasiness and apprehension, typically with compulsive behaviour or panic attacks.
Thomas is floating. Around him is a pitch-black void. Above him, a hand comes into view, sparkling glitter pinched between its fingers.
The glitter falls. It’s a variety of different colours, and it almost looks like a rainbow.
Thomas reaches for the glitter, wanting to feel it between his fingertips. The moment the glitter makes contact with his hand, it turns a deep purple — or is it violet? Thomas barely has any time to process the change before he finds himself falling. As he falls, he swears he can hear a voice, but it’s extremely muffled, as if he’s hearing it from underwater. Slowly, however, the voice grows louder, and Thomas can almost hear what it’s saying—
“Thomas!”
Thomas’ anxiety spikes. His eyes fly open and he sits up, barely aware enough to recognise where he is. He’s faintly aware of his chest heaving and the uneven breaths he’s taking, but that’s about it.
Someone nearby mutters a swear, and the next thing Thomas knows, he’s being guided off the bed — his bed, he was in his bed — and onto the carpeted floor. He really should be more concerned about the stranger in his bedroom, but oddly enough, he feels like he can trust them.
“Breathe, Thomas. Four-seven-eight, remember?”
Yes, Thomas remembers. Unfortunately, his chest feels like it’s crushing itself with every breath he takes.
The stranger gathers Thomas’ hands into their own and places them against their chest. Thomas can feel their heart pounding.
“You feel that?”
Thomas nods.
“Cool. Now, I want you to focus on that and copy my breathing, okay?”
Thomas nods again. Despite his aching chest, he allows the stranger to guide him through the exercise. As he breathes, he can hear the stranger murmuring words of encouragement.
“Keep it up, Thomas. That’s good, keep going.”
Eventually, after what seems like hours but is really only a few minutes, Thomas is able to breathe normally, and his chest no longer aches with every breath. The haze of panic is fading, and Thomas is finally able to get a good look at the stranger who helped him. They’re wearing an unzipped black plaid jacket with the hood up, and Thomas can see they’re wearing a black shirt underneath. The hood plus their bangs makes it very difficult to see their face, though Thomas is pretty sure he can see eyeshadow smudged underneath their eyes.
The only word that comes to mind to describe them is ‘edgy’.
The stranger mutters something under their breath before reaching up and pulling the hood off their head. They run a hand through their hair, and Thomas can’t help but notice it looks almost identical to his own.
Just like that, everything clicks.
“You’re a Side.”
The Side smiles wryly in Thomas’ direction. “Sure am.”
“I have more than three?!”
“Clearly.” The Side’s voice is monotone, and Thomas can’t help but think he’s being mocked. “Oh, and I’m Anxiety, by the way, thanks for asking.”
Thomas very quickly decides he does not like this new Side.
Anxiety sits back on his heels. “That was one heck of a dream you were having, huh? Though I guess that’s nothing compared to all the others you’ve been having.”
“You know about those?”
“Well, duh.” Anxiety stands and stretches. Thomas does the same. “I kinda have to be able to monitor your dreams so I can wake you up if shit gets real.”
“Do you know anything about them?”
Anxiety raises an eyebrow. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, kid.”
Thomas’ internal groan is very loud, and he’s glad only he can hear it. “Well, we’ve been trying to figure out what they mean for weeks now, but—“
“Magic.”
Thomas blinks. “What?”
Anxiety perches himself on the end of Thomas’ bed. “These dreams are a result of you being exposed to magic as a baby.”
Thomas’ brow furrows. “Are you messing with me?”
“Nope,” Anxiety responds, popping the ‘p’. “I know it sounds absurd, like something Princey would come up with, but I’m serious. How else do you think we exist?”
“You expect me to believe the reason I have Sides is because of magic?”
“Yep.”
“Yeah, no. Hate to break it to you, bud, but magic doesn’t exist.”
Anxiety pulls his jacket tighter around himself. “That’s Logic talking. If magic didn’t exist, then nor would we.”
“You’re making absolutely no sense.”
“I’d like to think I’m making perfect sense.”
Thomas’ teeth grind. “I’d like you to know that you’re really starting to get on my nerves.”
Anxiety smirks. Thomas glares. For a moment, the two of them are locked in a staring contest.
Thomas loses.
Anxiety cackles. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna take my leave before my presence attracts… unwanted attention. Well, unwanted for me, not so much for you.”
Anxiety stands up and prepares to sink out, but pauses. He snaps his fingers as if he’s just remembered something, then turns to face Thomas.
“Hey, by the way, you might wanna check in with those three. I hear they’re not doing so hot.”
Anxiety sinks out, but not before shooting Thomas a lazy two-fingered salute. Once he’s gone, Thomas’ face falls and he flops back onto his bed, not bothering to fix the blankets. He grabs his pillow and shoves his face into it, allowing it to muffle the extremely loud groan he can finally release.
“Why is my personality so complicated?”
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lovelylogans · 3 years
Text
honey, you’re familiar (like my mirror)
see other chapters, notes, and warnings here!
chapter four: symbiosis
symbiosis: interaction between two different organisms living in close physical association, typically to the advantage of both.
VIRGIL
“Uh,” Virgil says, scrambling in the face of his mother—hair wrapped for the night, blinking the sleep out of her eyes, her arms crossed, “My—myself?”
Technically true, he guesses, according to some of the sensate’s personal beliefs about the connections they share with their clusters, according to Logan according to Dot. Like having other selves scattered across the world.
Andisiwe frowns. “At this time of night?”
Virgil shrugs weakly.
She frowns deeper. Then:
“You know,” she says, looking at him very intently, “your grandmother used to talk to herself at all times of day, too.”
Virgil stays silent. His mother crouches to sit with him on the floor, settling with a long sigh.
“About anything at all,” she continues. “She’d talk about the snow when this country hadn’t seen snow for ten years. She’d laugh when no one told a joke, cried when nothing sad had happened. She’d make recipes I’d never heard of before. You remember her pitha?”
Virgil nods, confused. Of course he remembers her pitha. They’d have it at every large family gathering.
“That’s an Indian dessert. She’d never left South Africa in all her life, but she knew how to make pitha and speak Tamil like she was born in Bangalore. Just like you were speaking a language other than Xhosa or English just now.”
Oh, Virgil thinks, then, oh.
“So unless you started taking language lessons while studying for your doctorate,” she says, staring at him.
Virgil chews at the inside of his cheek.
“No,” he says hoarsely. “No, I didn’t.”
She nods, accepting this. “How long…?”
“I don’t know,” Virgil admits. “A week and a half? Two weeks?”
“Not long at all,” she murmurs. “ I suppose it might skip a generation. She told me once it started when she was a child. A horrible headache struck her, and once it let up she had seven new friends all around the world. When they were all ten, maybe.”
Ten, Virgil thinks, mind whirling. God, to deal with all this at the age of ten?
“Sensates,” Virgil croaks. “We’re called sensates.”
His mother offers him a smile. 
“I know,” she says. “Tell me about them.”
“One’s here,” Virgil says, and he looks at the big, tall, tattooed man. “I don’t think I got your name last time.”
The man walks from his plush apartment rug to sit on the hardwood floor. 
“Patton Taumata,” he says with Virgil’s mouth, offering a bright smile to Virgil’s mother, sitting beside him. “Māori, New Zealander.”
And then Virgil feels what Patton does next—pull seems too strong a word, but it’s the closest he has.
Sitting across from him, looking vaguely disgruntled to find himself on the ground, yet still sitting at his desk in his home office.
“Janus Slange,” he says. “London.”
He slides out of Virgil’s body to find a spot to sit that’s a bit more refined.
Patton turns his head, and Virgil turns his gaze to follow.
“Roman Regio,” the actor says, looking up from his script to gesture beside him. “And my brother, Remus. Who is currently on his way to Mexico City, which he should have done as soon as he got accused.”
“This is such a dumb plan,” Remus groans, resting his head simultaneously against the bus window and Virgil’s bed. “I want all of you batshit hallucinations to know that I don’t come up with plans this stupid. My plans are refined in the way they cause utter chaos.”
Sitting in his bed in the barracks and beside Virgil, so close their thighs almost touch, giving Virgil a thrill that shoots all the way to his fingertips—
“Logan Zieliński,” he says to Virgil’s mother, careful to sound respectful. “I was just here. I’m Polish, but I’m currently studying in Antarctica. Space research.”
They’re here. All of them here. But Virgil sees Patton reach again—
EMILE
—and Emile beams at the sight before him. Patton turns to grin at him.
“Well done!” Emile says, filled to bursting with pride. 
Patton! Reliably being able to pull them all in to visit together! That kind of skill—coupled with the fact that Patton, back in his apartment in Auckland, is peaceably planning lessons with a sitcom in the background—can take other sensates months of practice to truly achieve. 
“Is this your mother?” He asks Virgil.
Virgil says, “Um, Mom, my—cluster parent?”
Emile makes an eh handwavey gesture followed by a thumbs-up. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, I’m comfortable with!”
“—is here right now. His name’s—”
He speaks at the same time as Emile does.
“Dr. Emile Picani, hi there—!”
“—and he’s American.”
Virgil’s mother’s brow wrinkles in distaste, but she does a good show of trying to hide it.
“That’s fair,” Emile says. “Americans are—well, y’know. You’ve seen the news.”
“This is my mother, Dr. Andisiwe Nkosi. My grandmother was a sensate too, apparently.”
“Oh, that’s lovely!” Emile exclaims. “There are sensates within biological families, of course—” he gestures to Roman and Remus, “—but things are still up in the air about if and how being homo sensorium passes down.”
“Dot said the number of sensates is rising due to epigenetic factors,” Logan says.
“Oh, you’ve met Dot!” Emile says delightedly. 
“She answered many of the questions I have,” Logan says, and for a blip, they’re all sitting in the barracks in Antarctica as Logan reaches for a notebook and pen. “But I still have many questions.”
“Entirely understandable,” Emile says.
“Wait, you got your questions answered?” Roman demands, and they’re all sitting on Roman’s apartment’s massive balcony overlooking Mexico City. “I just got this one—” he points accusingly at Janus, “telling me hey, surprise, you’re not actually losing your shit!”
Janus shrugs, and they’re all surrounded by monitors, blinking with so many different points of data it makes Emile a little dizzy. “He just showed up in the mirror while I was shaving.”
“Well,” Emile says, and they’re all in Emile’s apartment at home. Emile puts a kettle on the stove. “I’m here now. So what questions can I help you answer? Or, at least, activate the Archipelago to get some kind of answer for you. If you can think of some kind of subject, there’s probably a sensate that knows something about it, but I suppose we should probably start with the sensate-specific questions.”
Remus puts up a hand and asks, loudly, “Can I use the psychic connection with other sensates to have some kind of insane worldwide orgy?”
ROMAN
Sasha is out for a key art photoshoot, so Roman has the whole apartment to himself. Which is good, because he got a bit busy last night with the whole explanation of what exactly it is that’s been happening to him, and then yelling in disgust when Remus asked gross questions about it.
Roman’s considering if he wants to paint his nails—it’s not like he can keep it, if solely for movie continuity—just to have something to do with his hands when the door cracks open.
And in steps Remus—absolutely filthy, staring at Roman incredulously, a fake mustache plastered above his real mustache that he immediately rips off.
“It worked,” Roman says gleefully. “It worked!”
“First of all, cops ain’t shit, I probably should have expected literally every police officer to sleep on the job when seeing someone suspicious board a bus, but Jesus fuckin’ Christ, your security munches ass,” Remus declares, “They let a murderer get into your apartment.” 
Roman bursts out laughing.
“It’s not funny!” Remus says, pulling off the fake beard he’d donned. “It took five pesos of stolen fake beard and mustache to fool everyone, are you fucking kidding me—?!”
Roman slides off the couch, gripping his stomach, he’s laughing so hard.
“What?!” Remus demands, throwing off the overly large trench coat he’d been huddling under.
“You,” Roman wheezes, then, “you said the plan was stupid and it wouldn’t work—!”
“It is stupid! I come up with way better plans than this, you’re telling me that you came up with the stupid kid movie plan and I didn’t?! And it shouldn’t have worked—Roman, stop laughing, your fangirls are fucking batshit crazy, could you imagine what kind of weird Wattpad shit they’d get up to if they knew how easy it was to break in here?!”
Roman is screaming with laughter, because literally all they needed was a fake mustache and beard, and ooh Roman can tell that Remus is pissed that Roman came up with this plan first because it’s such a perfectly Remus plan. He isn’t sure how much of it is a sensate thing versus a twin brother thing, but all the same, Roman knows that Remus is absolutely fuming, which makes it even funnier.
Remus storms off, shouting, “Just for this, I’m going to use up all your fancy shampoo! I’m going to take the biggest, nastiest shit in your bathroom! I’m—I’m going to eat all your soap! I will! I’ll do it! I’m eating all your soap!”
LOGAN
It’s still a little startling to look over at his notebook and suddenly find himself in South Africa, but he’s gotten a little more accustomed to it since the night before. He’s been feeling a pull to South Africa all day, like an ache deep in his chest. He isn’t entirely sure why.
Virgil glances over at him and smiles, just a little. Logan smiles back. Virgil clears his throat and returns his attention to the textbook before him.
“Roman’s plan worked,” he says. 
Logan huffs, shaking his head. Honestly. It’s like those American movies when three children stack on top of each other and wear a large trenchcoat and a fake beard to gain access to the movies, but it actually worked. 
In retrospect, Logan’s sure that Remus would have foregone his escape into the wilderness if he’d known that donning a disguise and having his rich brother pay away the arrest troubles and their psychically connected lawyer argue before the court would have worked so neatly.
However, considering that nearly every aspect of that plan is absolutely off the rails ridiculous, the escape into the wilderness must have seemed like a prudent measure to take at the time.
“How’s your research?” Logan asks, sitting down on Virgil’s bed. 
“Pretty good,” Virgil says, his tone very casual. “I think the fact that abrus precatorius—”
“The scientific name for rosary peas,” Logan assumes. He is rewarded by a nod from Virgil.
“—isn’t native to Mexico and the fact that Remus hasn’t traveled for years on end is a pretty good basis for Janus to go on. Plus, abrin—”
“The toxin?” Logan clarifies and receives a nod.
“—is incredibly toxic, to the point where anyone ordering rosary peas would probably get pinged under some kind of monitoring system. So there wouldn’t really be a way for Remus himself to get them. Miguel Contreras, on the other hand—”
“The murder victim?” Logan says, startled.
“Yes—on the other hand, he went to Florida very recently. He got back three days before his death, in fact.”
“I thought they were native to Asia and Australia?”
“Yeah, they are, but rosary peas are an invasive species, and they’ve been clocked in the pine rocklands there,” Virgil says. “Symptoms usually occur pretty quick, but it can take up to five days to show up, depending on the method of ingestion. And considering the seed of just one pea could be fatal…”
“Then the cause of death could very well be found in Florida!” Logan says. “And the only thing they have on Remus—”
“—Are threats, exactly,” Virgil says enthusiastically. “And considering the way Remus is as a person, Janus could probably get those hand-waved away as being under jest, rather than an actual threat to kill him.”
They smile at each other again, Virgil’s lips twisting wryly. 
“I’ve been wanting to visit you all day,” he says abruptly, and Logan feels that flutter in his stomach again, the one he’s been feeling since they first met; he’s willing to admit to himself that it most certainly isn’t unease, now. It is a near antonym of unease.
“I have too,” Logan admits, trying his very best to keep his voice informal.
Virgil’s smile softens, a little. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” Logan affirms, and the flutter in his stomach intensifies.
They stare at each other. Virgil’s eyes, Logan notices abruptly, are objectively beautiful. Framed by long lashes, his eyes are so dark a shade of brown they’re practically black, so easy to stare at, admiring the way a sudden shift in the lighting would illuminate the subtle honeyed depths of them. 
For a moment, Logan gets a flicker; he’s looking at his own eyes, blue and framed by his glasses, but the emotion in him doesn’t change, the fleeting thought of look how gorgeous, and suddenly he is back to looking at Virgil, and, as one, they look away.
Virgil coughs awkwardly. “This sensate thing—weird, huh?”
For the first time, Logan wonders if the feeling in his stomach is not entirely his own. If it is something shared.
But, Logan thinks, sneaking a look at Virgil taking notes, twirling his pen idly over the backs of his long fingers, he supposes that neither of them would be able to tell that, anyways.
REMUS
Remus is bouncing his leg so much that the cop near him is giving him a disdainful look.
Or maybe the look is because the cop thinks he’s a murderer. Whatever.
“Are you sure this is gonna work,” Remus mutters out of the corner of his mouth because he hasn’t gotten the hang of visiting someone in his cluster and going about day-to-day life like a normal person, the way more experienced sensates can. 
“Positive,” Janus says. He’s sitting crossed-legged beside Remus in his holding cell, where they’re waiting to be transported to the courtroom. Remus is pretty sure most lawyers shouldn’t turn up to court in pajamas, but considering that to the rest of the courtroom Remus is going to play at being his own lawyer, it’s all fine. 
“All they have on you is proximity and threats,” Janus continues. “And considering the voice in your novels, along with the parts in your dust jackets’ where you literally threaten your readers, I can get that set aside no problem.”
Remus inhales heavily and exhales just as noisily.
“Right,” he says. “Right.”
Roman flickers into sight just long enough to shoot Remus a thumbs up, and as Janus resumes spitting legal jargon, Remus feels his shoulders relax.
PATTON
“Be careful with our bezzie Buzzy Bee!” Patton says brightly. He’s crouched before Sophie, having helped untangle the string. “Let’s make sure we don’t tangle him up again, eh?”
“I will, Mr. T!” Sophie shouts, already on the run with the toy, and Patton huffs ruefully. It’ll probably be tangled up again by the end of the day.
A brief chill across his skin, and Patton shivers before he refocuses on the sunny afternoon, here, in Auckland.
By the time he’s stood upright, Logan’s beside him, in a white lab coat.
“Do you really need that much air conditioning down there?” Patton says. “Seems a bit overkill, mate.”
Logan shrugs, closing a door, hiding away some kind of equipment that looks very finicky and complex. “I’m not the one in charge of the facility.”
“Fair enough,” Patton says. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be asked to join in on some kind of game, soon. You like rugby?”
“It’s not exactly popular in Poland.”
“Hm. Guess not,” Patton says. “Probably should’ve known that already.”
“The whole sharing knowledge aspect of this does seem to be rather dependent on a variety of factors,” Logan says thoughtfully. “I don’t think I automatically know the minutiae of New Zealand history and culture just because you might; I think we have to be doing something to trigger that sharing of knowledge.” 
Patton huhs thoughtfully.
“If you didn’t know how to drive a car, for instance,” Logan theorizes, “and I did, and you sat behind a wheel and needed to drive somewhere, I would probably be able to impart that knowledge to you.”
“I can ask Emile,” Patton says, ready to turn and look in on Florida, but he’s stopped by Logan’s frustrated, “how do you do that?”
“Hm?” Patton says, turning to look at him.
“This seems to come so effortlessly to you,” Logan says. “You drop in and seem totally at ease, you could control if we all came to see Virgil a couple nights ago, and by the reactions of those around you, you don’t seem to be talking to thin air—”
“Well, we’re mostly, surrounded by five-year-olds, they wouldn’t be too phased by the concept of me having an imaginary friend,” Patton points out. Logan doesn’t seem particularly amused by this.
“I don’t know,” Patton admits. “Emile thought I was just very communicative, for a sensate. That might be it; I’ve always been pretty chatty. It also might be because Māori have beliefs about how we are all connected—people, nature, all living things—so maybe I was a little more prepared to accept that I was literally connected to other people because I grew up with that as a sacred ideal.”
They watch children run and play for a few minutes; Manaia, diving to catch a football in the game of rugby that had assembled; Sophie, racing between everyone with her Buzzy Bee clack-clack-clacking behind her; Oliver, shyly joining in on a game of hopscotch.
The grass sways in the light breeze, the sun had peeked out from behind its clouds, leaving the entire playground awash in light and warmth. The laughter of children carries on the wind. Patton’s coworkers occasionally look up from their tiny charges to smile and wish him a good day.
“It’s really rather nice here,” Logan says quietly. “I’ve never been remotely near this continent. Coming to research in Antarctica is the most travel I’ve ever really done.”
“Do you miss home?” Patton asks.
Logan considers this.
“Some things,” he says. “Kluski, makowiec, honey mead. Newspapers written in my native language. The coffee shop I studied in throughout all of university. Proper herbata góralska. My mentors. The ability to go to a grocery store. My mother.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“But I love the research I do here,” Logan says firmly. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be able to study down here.”
“It sure seems like it,” Patton says, his admiration clear in his voice. 
“This whole situation threw a bit of a wrench in the works,” he says.
“I think it did for all of us,” Patton says. “Not all bad, though. Remus would probably still be on the run if he hadn’t connected with Janus.”
“No,” Logan muses, a soft flush touching his cheeks. “Certainly not all bad.”
Unbidden, images flash in his mind; black coffee, an expanse of wide sunny road, the sensation of dirt under his fingernails, purple jacaranda blossoms.
Patton tries his hardest not to grin. But—
“What,” Logan says defensively.
“Nothing,” Patton says, not hiding his smile, and Logan huffs irritably.
“You know,” Patton says, “Emile’s been dating someone in-cluster for, like, nine years? They were the first people that they saw, of the people in-cluster. In-cluster relationships are apparently pretty common, which I guess makes sense. Sharing feelings, knowledge, everything—it sure can bond two people together.”
Logan’s flush deepens. 
“Just sayin’,” Patton offers cheerfully, and he goes off to join a game of hopscotch, leaving Logan with his thoughts.
JANUS
The language is different. The procedure is different. The situation is, most definitely, different. 
He’s used to English, English law, English crimes. He’s been a barrister for years, jumping from one firm to another because the latter had seen partner potential in him; it paid much better, too, which certainly hadn’t been a negative. Janus had become a well-polished lawyer, a viper in the courtroom, a boomslang to his rivals. 
He’s good at it, is his point. He’s always been good at it.
He stands, surveying the judge. A different uniform, but a similar dime-a-dozen judge. He’s seen this type dozens of times. He could debate them in his sleep.
But as he looks to the side—Remus sitting, Roman beside him, the rest of the cluster in a line past them, just peeks of their profiles past the twins—he remembers why he started to study law, too.
Because he wanted to be able to get himself and his brother out of any and every sticky situation they could ever stumble into.
Janus stands when he is bid to. He takes the oath, Remus’s mother language tripping off his tongue like it’s his own. It is now, Janus supposes. 
Roman reaches over and grips Remus’s hand. Remus pinches Roman as hard as he possibly can, but Roman doesn’t flinch.
Janus begins smoothly, “Your honor, ladies and gentlemen of the court...”
9 notes · View notes
imma-potatoo · 3 years
Note
I love your writing so much???? Omggg it's absolutely amazing. Feel free to not accept the prompt, but how do you feel about hurt caretaker with Logan being the caretaker? (Bonus points if it happens right after the "Promises" fic you wrote)
Aww! Tysm for the compliment! (I am so so sorry it took so long-)
@badthingshappenbingo
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Send me a prompt and a character! No romantic prinxeity, r*mr*m, U!Janus, U!Logan please!
Warnings: blood, U!Patton, U!Virgil, graphic abuse, ask to tag
Masterpost
Takes place after this fic
Tarnished Gold
--------------------------
Unlike Janus, who was sleeping peacefully against his chest, Logan didn’t relax. Thoughts of anger and betrayal flooded his head, Janus was just as much a part of him then Remus was to Roman. Janus was his other half, granted Janus was his romantic partner (not his brother, besides, any such actions with one’s sibling is unethical, wrong, and frankly disgusting) but Janus completed him.
Without the sarcastic liar by his side, he was empty, nothing, a void of empty logic.
Logan rubbed Janus’ back up and down, the shorter side clinging to him with a tight grip and small hiss like snores leaving his lips. Logan chuckled and brushed the curls away from his boyfriend’s eyes as he curled in tighter to him. Logan smiled. Logan never showed his smile openly, but no one was around to mock him or poke at sore spots.
Logan’s smile broke quickly though, what was he going to do about Virgil and Patton? There was no way he was going to let them get away with this… even if he promised Janus.
But for now, he was going to cuddle his boyfriend. Thinking of how he could tell Thomas of Morality and Anxiety's wrongdoings without his center accusing him of setting up the cyan and purple sides.
It was hours later before the yellow side loosed his grip and turned to face the door. Logan snuck out of the bed, keeping his steps light to not wake the sleeping side. Janus was bound to wake up any minute and was definitely going to be hungry, so he was going to the kitchen to make his lovely scaled boyfriend some ramen.
Logan stopped at the doorway and looked back towards the sleeping side, he took small steps back towards him, leaning down and pressing a small, barely noticeable, kiss to the yellow side's forehead, the skin was slightly cool to the touch. Logan raised a small grin as Janus poked his tongue out slightly through his lips and turned to the other side of the bed.
Logan shook his head with a huff of laughter and left the room.
The hallway was quiet, no music, no singing, no footsteps, other than the ones that belonged to the logical side. Logan felt the urge to keep his breaths slow and hushed, he continued down the hall nonetheless. Down the stairs, through the living room. The house was dead quiet. Logan could hear his heartbeat drum repeatedly, he could now understand the man in the Telltale Heart, this would drive him insane after a while as well.
Logan stepped into the kitchen, finding a note with green and red ink dried onto the paper, Logan picked it up, pushing his glasses up as he began to read.
EY NERDS!! Me and Roman went to go kill the dragon bitch again! There better be a dead body by the time we get back or else I’ll be very disappointed!! ~Remus
Don’t kill anyone ~Roman
 Logan huffed a small laugh before turning to dig out the pots, the Dragon-Witch had always been a returning foe for the twins, but then again… what the point of having a defender of a city, if there’s no-one to defend it from? So the twins created a huge ass dragon with a witch-hat, they were eight at the time which would make sense for the ridiculous name.
But a small part of Logan wondered if the twins went to the imagination so often to escape the torment of Patton and Virgil. The two of them disapproved whenever any of them stepped out of line, even if it was something minor. They had never physically harmed any of them-- until Janus, but the abuse was still very much present. Janus and Logan would typically only come back for meals and then leave to the house for the rest of the day.
But Patton and Virgil putting a side in danger? Logan had never expected that.
Adding water to the pot, Logan wondered what the Dragon-Witch did this time. Terrorize a town? Kidnap a prince? Well, it certainly made the mindscape quieter with everyone go- Logan stopped in his tracks, just before turning on the stove. He gritted his teeth and pulled a cold expression before sinking out.
“-did this to me! Janus is a horrible threat to everyone her-”
Logan rose up, eyebrows furrowed in frustration, anger, and confusion. “Really Patton? That’s not what it looked like while I was disinfecting a week’s old infection and a twisted ankle that was just as black as your morality.” Logic hissed through his teeth, he looked at Patton and Virgil with hateful eyes. Patton’s “terrible injury” was something that you could get by bumping into a table
Thomas watched as his three sides glared daggers into their chests, “Woah Woah Woah! Guys! What’s happening here?!” Before Patton and Virgil even got a chance to speak, Logan took charge and nabbed the speaking spot before anyone else could.
“What is happening Thomas, is that your Anxiety and your Morality are attempting to fool you into believing that Janus is the villain, while these two have been abusing sides and misusing power since we visited the courtroom.” Logan drew a small hushed breath, “ I will tolerate a lot of things, but my partner refusing to tell me when they are in pain because two idiots told him not to, is not one of them.” Logan barely had to repress his empathy as he glared at the other two, they barely even flinched at the cold glare from someone who used to be so close.
Virgil merely raised an eyebrow as he leaned against Thomas’s banister, the wood groaning and creaking in the process. Patton however had eyes full of crocodile tears. The light blue side was a surprisingly good actor when he wanted to be.
Thomas gaped his mouth open and closed, “Guys.. is that true?” eyes wide as he stared in shock.
Virgil sneered, arms cross against his chest. His gaze shifted towards Patton briefly. “No, the nerd is making things up to protect his boyfriend.” Virgil locked eyes with Logan, “why he would want to date a villain is beyond me.”
Logan’s mind lagged as he processed the words. He went to rebuttal when Patton let fake tears roll down his cheeks while nodding.
Thomas’s eyes widened, hands starting to comb through his hair as he started to pace back and forth in the living room, “... Logan?” 
Logan snapped back to attention, looking at his center’s surprisingly tear-filled eyes
“Summon Janus for us.”
The tension in the room increased tenfold, Patton and Virgil shot Logan a dirty look as the blue side smiled and agreed to Thomas’s demands.
Logan stepped aside to make room for the yellow side, prepared to catch him when he inevitably fell, and then raised his hand to summon his boyfriend.
Janus rose in his, now crumpled, outfit.  A sleepy haze still clouded his mind as his ankle gave out. Falling against Logan’s chest with a groan. His hat and capelet were missing, revealing a head full of messy curls. Clearly just awoken from his slumber.
Patton and Virgil exchanged a plan through looks, giving each other a small nod as Janus pulled himself upright. The yellow side leaned against Logan’s chest as he drew heavy breaths, small beads of sweat dripped down his face, his hands twisted tightly on Logan’s tie.
Logan rubbed Janus’ back, he wasn’t normally one of PDA but he didn’t overly care about that. He was comforting his boyfriend. “As you can see Thomas, I didn’t lie. Janus is very clearly injured and it is all to the fault of Patton and Virgil, who pushed him down the stairs.” Logan held himself higher, his voice clearing of all threats of breaking, “I am demanding that you deal with this issue immediately. Or else your Logic and Deceit will be leavi-” Logan choked on his own words when Virgil pulled him backward, causing Janus to collapse without Logan holding him up. Patton swooped in behind Virgil and held Janus’ wrists in an ironclad grip.
Patton and Virgil sank down with the couple, leaving Thomas standing there in shock, unable to process what had just happened.
Patton rose up first, throwing Janus to the floor as soon as they arrived back at the mind-palace, soft warm brown eyes were replaced by cold angry ones. Janus’ breath increased as he backed up, hitting the wall with a thunk and wide scared eyes. His pupils dilated as he pulled his body in. 
Patton kept his same blank expression as he stomped towards the cowering side, pulling Janus from the corner and pinning him to the ground, facedown with Patton sitting on his lower spine as Virgil rose up with Logan struggling in his grip.
“You need to listen and stop getting in our way.” Virgil growled lowly into Logan’s ear, the blue side barely held in a shudder as he locked eyes with his beloved. All Logan had to do was stay calm and not anger the twisted sides. Patton had his cheery smile plastered to his lips, although his eyes were apathetic. The cyan side grabbed Janus’ wrists and held them above his head, giggling when the side below him whimpered in pain but started to fight; to get Patton to loosen his grip
Logan continued his struggle in Virgil’s hold, looking at Janus with wide eyes as the purple side restricted his movement even more, “you can’t bend the entirety of Thomas’s mind to your will. That's not how it works. You, Virgil, should know this” Logan was buying time, he couldn’t summon either of the twins since they were in the imagination. A plan started to work like gears in a machine, twisting and turning in the side’s head. All he had to do was wait for Virgil to get distracted.
Virgil sneered, his lip twisting upward in a mocking fashion. “We can”t? Oh no! Whatever shall we do!?” Patton chuckled as he whispered something in Janus’ ear, watching as the shorter side paled slightly and started to struggle even more, “It’s not like you’re physically restraine-” Logan threw his entire weight against Virgil’s chest, hitting him in the nose with his head and pushed himself out of the side’s grip.
Virgil’s eyes started to water immediately from the hit as he went to hold his nose, he stumbled backward and hit the side of the staircase. A stream of blood starting to drip down and land on the wooden floor boards. Logan ran to Patton and hit him square in the temple, a thunk was heard as Patton fell off of Janus and held his head, hissing in pain.
Logan pulled Janus upward, being quick as he grabbed his boyfriend’s hand. The floors let out loud cracks and creaks as two sets of feet hit the ground. They got a headstart as Virgil recovered quickly, starting to chase after the couple.
Janus had tears leaking down his face from the pain. His ankle could barely hold his own weight, let alone run. But he kept pace with Logan anyway, knowing that if either of them were caught it would surely spell serious injury for them.
The duo could hear the fast steps of Virgil behind them, breaths heavy as they turned the corner. They had one goal in mind. The imagination.
At least that was where they were heading, until Janus could feel his ankle start to collapse. “L-Lo, you have to go on without me.” The yellow side stopped and braced himself against the wall. Breaths heavy. Virgil was maybe five minutes away from them.
Logan walked hesitantly up to Janus, both sets of eyes filled to the brim of fear. “I’m not leaving without you-”
“You have to” Janus moved his gaze to the ground. Keeping his heterochromic eyes trained to the withered wood.
Logan steeled his expression, “No! I promised you a long time ago that I’m never going to leave you! And that promise applies now!” four minutes until Virgil caught up.
Janus sank to the ground, resting his head against the cool plaster. He couldn’t make himself meet Logan’s eyes. Janus shook his head, “Starlight…” Janus gulped, his Addam’s apple bobbing, “you and I know that if they get us both, we are never going to be free again. If they only get me, then-” Janus took a breath, repressing more tears. “Then we have a chance. And a chance is all we could hope for.” three minuites
Logan didn’t know when he started crying, words refused to comply with the blue side as he shook his head. His hair was a mess, hands scraped and slightly stained with red, glasses covered in sweat and filth. “I love you.” Logan spoke hushly, “I love you Janus. I love your smile, I love your scales, I love the way you make coffee, I love how you curl into my chest at night, I love how you drag me away from my work at three am to go to sleep with you, I love how you steal my NASA shirts, I love how when I’m gone; you put on one of my ties and read my favourite novel, I love how you can charm a room with nothing but a grin and a subtle wink. I love you.” Logan sobbed into Janus’ chest, clenching his wrinkled shirt with desperation as tears fell and stained the fabric. Two minutes
Janus let the tears flow freely down his cheeks, clenching to Logan as if he would dematerialize from his fingertips. “I love you too, Logan.” Janus’ scales glistened under the tears, he didn’t want to let the blue side go. But sooner than they would’ve wanted, Janus pulled Logan’s face from his chest and gave him a bitter, tear-filled, hopeful smile. Janus leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to the side’s lips, there was passion behind it but there wasn’t time to continue it.
The duo broke apart, Janus traced Logan’s temple with his fingernail, “Go.”
It broke Logan’s heart to stand up. He gave one last tearful gaze to Janus before continuing his flight. If he stayed longer, he never would’ve left. Thick globs of tears fell from the side’s eyes as he got further and further from his love, hiccups escaping his lips from the tears. The time was up.
Logan could hear Janus’ pleas from down the hallway, his heart ached as he heard Janus scream in agony.
But he continued running. He ran until he got to the red and green swirled door to the imagination. He barely looked through the door as he threw it open, slamming it shut behind him.
Even after he made it through the door, he still ran. He ran until his lungs ached for a break and his feet bled. Logan stopped against a tree, falling to the ground.
And Logan cried. He cried lung racking tears, covered in dirt and blood, Logan sobbed, glasses fogging.
A long time ago, Logan made a promise to a yellow side.
And he had just broken it.
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trashyswitch · 3 years
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Roman's Spa Day
Roman has been overworking Thomas lately. So, the main sides decide to give Roman a spa day to relax him. But, THIS spa day has a secret twist mixed in...
I'm on time again! And I'm mostly caught up on my college courses! *Snoopy dances* Look at me go!
Here's Tickletober Day 16: Massage
Roman has been overworking himself ever since Thomas voiced the Throat-Lobster in Phineas & Ferb: Candace Against The Universe. Roman had been making Thomas work his butt off for the audition and the voice recording, and was so proud when Thomas took his improv advice! Even though meeting the voice of Dr. Doofenshmirtz was an amazing experience, Roman had been overwhelming Thomas as of late.
Finally, enough was enough. Patton, Logan and Virgil were all very annoyed, yet very worried about him. So, the sides had a quick meeting to determine how to help the poor creative side simmer down and take a break. By the time the meeting was over, all 3 sides knew exactly what to do: they were going to set up a spa day for him. Only this time, there was going to be a little twist added to it...
Patton offered to be the blind-folder and the usher for Roman. So, that meant he needed to guide the blind Roman along to every single room that was needed for the spa day. Roman was sitting at a desk, writing down something in a bright red journal. At first glance, it didn’t even look like Roman at all! It looked like Logan, if he chose to wear red that day! Patton walked into the room, and frowned upon seeing the state Roman was in. His posture was off, he had bags under his eyes, his hair was a filthy mess, and his desk was covered with props and scripts. Patton sighed and pulled out the blindfold he was gonna use. Nervous he was gonna make Roman angry for doing this, Patton gave himself a Hunger Games good luck salute before taking on the actor.
Patton wrapped the blindfold around his head super quickly and tied it into a knot. “WHAT THE- HEY! INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER- HAHA! HEHEHEHEY!” Roman shouted. Patton had quickly started tickling him to get him kneeling on the ground and double-checked his blindfold knot. “WHOHohoho...Who’s there? Who DARE FIGHT THE GREAT ROMAN?!” Roman shouted, reaching for his sword. But...his sword wasn’t in its usual spot! Not only that, but the entire belt was missing! “Hey! My sword! Give me back my be-”
Patton quickly covered up his mouth with his hand, and curved it so Roman couldn’t bite his hand. “Shhhh...Calm down Ro.” Patton ordered. “It’s just me: Patton.” he told him.
“How do I know it’s you, and not Janus faking it?” Roman asked.
Patton smirked. “Would Janus know that THIS tickle spot exists?” Patton asked as he lightly tickled his chin.
Roman snorted and squealed in surprise, before kitty fighting the fingers in front of him. “Ohokay. Good point.” Roman mentioned, before reaching out for his hand. Patton brought his hand to Roman’s so he could grab it, and lifted him up. “You ready for the time of your life?” Patton asked.
Roman’s giddy smile dropped slightly. “For what? Why did you blindfold me? What’s going on?” Roman asked. Patton only led him through Roman’s door frame and out to the hallway. “And where are you taking me?” Roman asked.
Patton smiled. “To the living room!” Patton replied.
“That’s it?” Roman asked as he pulled the blindfold off. “Why did you blindfold me just fo-” Patton took the blindfold from Roman’s hand and tied it back on. “It’s a surprise.” Patton replied as he tightened the knot on the back.
“Oooh.” Roman reacted. “Is there a pinata?” Roman asked eagerly.
Patton giggled. “Nope.” he replied.
“Oh. A sword fight?” Roman asked.
Patton smiled. “You’ll see…” he replied.
“Oooooh!” Roman reacted, clapping his hands as he was pushed into a tent entrance by Patton. Roman threw his arms up in front of him, and seemed to relax when Patton gave him his arm to hold onto again.
“Here you go.” Patton offered, pulling a chair out and gently sitting the man down. “There.” Patton muttered as he removed Roman’s blindfold.
“Well...I will admit that I never imagined Patton to go for the blindfolding method.” Logan told Roman.
Roman took one look at Logan and bursted out laughing. Logan was dressed as a cross between a wizard and a fortune teller. “Hello Roman. I am going to be your fortune teller.” Logan said calmly, despite being laughed at by his customer. “And despite what you may believe, I have had plenty of practice on multiple other folks. So as long as you stay still, I will be able to read your palm.” Logan explained.
Roman finally managed to stop laughing and calm himself down. “May I have your right hand please?” Logan ordered politely. Roman nodded and gave him his right palm. Logan read the palm carefully and started to focus on the 3 lines on the hand palm. “Hmm...Artistic and adventurous.” Logan told him. Logan smiled as he read the second palm line. “A sensitive soul with an appreciation for literature and fantasy.” Logan explained.
Roman chuckled. “Well, of course you said that. You’ve known me for years.” Roman mentioned, not really believing in the art of palm reading.
Logan continued to read his plan despite the judgements from Roman and read the third line. “Wow! A positive person!” Logan told him. Roman smiled and placed his left hand on his chest.
“Awww! Thank you!” Roman replied.
Logan smiled and looked closer as he slowly drew the line of fate out with his pencil. “A successful life up ahead.” Logan told him.
Roman snorted. “I wish…” Roman reacted.
Logan frowned slightly as he read the palm. He wasn’t believing much of what he was saying. So, he decided to start purposefully poking and drawing out the palm lines to create feeling. “Patient, hard-working and practical, I see…” Logan added, focusing on the Mount of Saturn. “You’re also energetic, creative, and passionate! A good set of traits.” Logan added, drawing circles around the Apollo mount on his hand. Roman started to cover his mouth a little as the need to giggle and smile awkwardly, started to take over. The movements Logan was doing, were starting to tickle him and make him all giggly.
Logan noticed this, and continued his actions. “And...Wow! You have the water hand! Oval palms,” Logan started drawing his finger on the outside of his palm. “And long flexible fingers!” Logan drew down his fingers with his index finger one by one. Roman finally let out an uncontrollable, small giggle.
Logan smirked. “And of course:” Logan lightly grabbed his wrist with his non-dominant hand and started skittering his index and middle finger on the palm of Roman’s hand. “Sensitive palms!” Logan teased as he tickled his palms.
Roman giggled at the teases and rested his forehead on his arm as he giggled and snorted. Sensitive? More like a giggle spot. “Ohohokahay. Thahahank yohohou Lohohogan.” Roman attempted to tug his hand back. But of course, Logan had Roman’s ticklish palm right in his own and was taking advantage of the cute ticklish spot. “Lohohogahahahan! Lehehet gohohohohoho!” Roman begged through his giggles and snorts. Logan smiled, fluttered his fingers one more time and let go of his wrist. Roman brought his palm against his chest and scratched it to get the ticklish sensations to leave him. “Ehevil. Evil fortune man!” Roman accused, sticking his tongue out.
Logan smirked and stuck his tongue out right back at him.
“Enjoy your appointment.” Logan said with a smile.
“Appointment?!” Roman reacted, before his eyes were blindfolded again. “HEy! What’s up with all the blindfolding?!” Roman asked.
Patton giggled. “It’s to keep you on your ‘toes’, silly!” Patton said with a wink towards Logan. Logan gagged, but sent him the thumbs up back. “Don’t you trust me?” Patton asked.
Roman guffawed. “With how you blindfolded me earlier, not really.” Roman replied. Patton did the puppy eyes at Roman and stuck his bottom lip out in mock sadness. “Awww…Patty is sad now, UwU.” Patton whined in a high-pitched furry voice. Roman giggled and felt around for Patton’s side, before squeezing his side in revenge. Patton squeaked and pushed his shoulder, causing Roman to laugh out loud.
With that, Patton and Roman were off to the next room! Patton led Roman down a few hallways, and into a bedroom ready all ready for him! “We’re here!” Patton greeted as he entered. Patton sat Roman down, turned his chair around a little and removed the blindfold. Roman took a moment to look around and smiled as he realized this was Virgil’s room! Only this time, there was a table with multiple tools and items on it.
“Hi Roman.” Virgil greeted on the other side of the table. Roman giggled and clapped his hands. “Sweet! I’ve been eager for a manicure!” Roman reacted as he placed his hands on the table, separated and ready.
Virgil started off by examining his nails and clipping them into shape. He clipped them in a curved motion, and carefully filed them into the curvy shaped they were gonna be. Virgil aimed for oval-shaped nails for this part, and took a bit of extra time to make sure they were as identical as he could make them. Next, Virgil grabbed two big bowls from underneath the table and put a bit of gentle shampoo into the bottom of the empty bowls. Next, Virgil grabbed a kettle off the heating item and poured the water into both bowls, allowing the soap to bubble up a bit. With one quick temperature test, Virgil placed the bowls into the correct spots and signalled for Roman to insert his nails and his feet into the bowls.
Roman slowly put his hands in, but quickly put the rest of his hands in the water. With his feet, he put them in almost right away. Roman let out a full sigh of relief upon feeling the warm temperature of the water. “Feeling relaxed, Princey?” Virgil asked.
Roman nodded. “Mm hmm…” Roman replied.
When the water time on the fingers were done, Virgil let Roman remove his hands before gently patting them with a towel. While Virgil did this, Patton moved the table away and started working on Roman’s feet. Roman rested his dried hands onto the armrests that were beside him and let Virgil work on his manicure, while Patton removed one foot at a time, placed the exfoliating cream onto his feet and started rubbing and exfoliating his foot.
While the manicure was amazing and very relaxing, the pedicure was a bit...ticklish... -Okay, a lot ticklish. Roman was biting his lip through the whole exfoliating process due to the crystals in the formula tickling and lightly scratching his entire foot wherever Patton’s palms massaged. It tickled a lot, and made him giggle a little despite his attempts to keep it in.
Patton couldn’t help but giggle at this as well. “Ticklish?” Patton asked. Roman bit his lip harder and nodded his head. “Y-Yeah...a bihit.” Roman replied.
Patton finally placed his exfoliated feet back into the water and washed his feet off. Roman finally took the moment to relax while the exfoliating crystals slid off his ankles and disintegrated into the water. Roman’s foot was soon removed and patted down with a towel. After placing it down, Roman’s other foot was removed, patted down with a towel and placed aside. After that, Patton put some cream onto his hands and started massaging his foot. With the feeling of Patton’s massaging palm, Roman started to relax more and more. Patton brought the cream up his ankles as well, and up the lower calf. As Patton started to gently massage the top of Roman’s foot with his fingers, he smirked as he heard slight giggles form Roman again.
Patton looked up at Roman with a starry glint in his eyes, and snuck a couple tickles under his foot. Roman’s foot twitched and he let out a titter. “Pahahat, cahaharefuhuhul!” Roman ordered.
“Awww! The poor prince is too ticklish for massages! It would be rude if I were to…” Patton started skittering his fingers under his toes.
Roman snorted and threw his head back with newfound laughter. “NAHAHAHA! PAHAHAHAT! CAHAHAHAREFUHUHUHUL!” Roman begged. Virgil smiled and nodded for Patton to keep going. Patton’s smirk grew wider as he flattened Roman’s foot and scratched on Roman’s inner arch. “NohoHOHOHOHO! NAHAHAT THEHEHERE! GAAHAHAHAHAHA!” Roman laughed helplessly.
Patton smiled innocently. “Your laugh is so cute, Ro-Ro!” Patton complimented as he moved to the ball of Roman’s foot.
Roman squeaked as his laughter went up about 3 octaves into high-pitched giggles. “Ihihihihi’m toohohoho tihihihicklihihihish thehehehere!” Roman told him.
“Oh, you think this is bad? I haven’t even started massaging the middle of your foot!” Patton reacted.
Suddenly, Patton pushed his flattened thumbs into the middle of Roman’s inner and outer arch.
Roman wheezed and threw his head back as fits of cackles left his throat. Roman took in a big breath and- “OHOHO GAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHEEL! NOHOHO HEEEEEHEHEHEHEEL!” Roman shrieked and laughed himself silly.
Patton giggled and laughed along with him as he enjoyed the sound of Roman’s contagious laughter. Despite the ticklish feeling and wiggly reactions, Virgil was still capable of painting all 10 of Roman’s nails almost perfectly! As Patton slowed his tickling down and gave Roman some time to breath, Virgil let the right nails dry and started putting pretty silver jewels on Roman’s left hand’s nails as decoration.
Patton’s ticklish endeavor soon returned to actual foot grooming. To finish it all off, Patton put some clear polish onto his nails and put tiny little glitter dots onto Roman’s toes to replicate the design Virgil created on Roman’s fingernails. When those were done, Patton gently started clearing the polish and bowls off the table while Virgil put his own polish, cream and tweezers away. As Roman gained his breath back, he looked at Virgil and Patton’s handiwork:
Virgil had given him oval, bright red nails with silver sticky gems curving the side of his nails! It was so pretty!
And Patton had gotten a bit more natural, and simply did more of a massage then a pedicure. He had put finishing polish on his toenails, and placed sparkly dots on the side of his nails, similarly to his fingernails!
“Wow! I am impressed, you two! Thank you!” Roman reacted happily.
“No problem.” Virgil replied.
“You’re welcome, Ro!” Patton replied happily. “And now, one more thing!” Patton declared. Roman beamed in excitement and got up off the chair.
Surprisingly, Patton didn’t put a blindfold on him this time! He just grabbed Roman’s soft wrist and led him to his own room. Patton’s room had a massage bed in it, with blankets, creams and heating pads. “Okay. I’d like you to take your shirt off, show off those abs of yours!” Patton said, pausing to poke one of Roman’s abs. Roman doubled over and giggled in surprise before he removed his shirt. “Now please lay down, and relax.” Patton told him politely as he started up some piano music from a radio. Roman laid down on the massage bed like he was told and let out a big breath of relief, while Patton got started almost right away:
Patton started off with some simple back rubs to loosen him up and keep him relaxed. Patton started rubbing his back muscles somewhat quickly, but softly. He moved up the back, down the back, and out to the sides. He did practically every hand movement possible, right onto Roman’s back. But whether it was actually a back technique or an improvised session from Patton, Roman couldn’t tell you. What he could admit however, was just how nice it felt.
...And then Patton started tapping his fingers lightly on his upper back.
“Hehe...Hehehehehe! Pahahat, thahahat tihihicklehes!” Roman reacted.
He should’ve known this was gonna happen! Considering how often tickling showed up in the entire experience, he should’ve been able to predict Patton’s movements from calming to ticklish. But, here he was: giggling under the fingers of Patton again.
“I call these...the sprinkle fingers. Doesn’t it feel like hundreds and hundreds of sprinkles are falling on your back?” Patton asked as he continued the 4-finger tapping.
Roman’s giggles got more and more frequent the lower Patton went. “Ihihihit feheheels like- TihihickLISH RAHAhahaindrohohohops!” Roman replied.
“Oooooh...that’s a good idea.” Patton replied.
Then, Patton started swaying his hands back and forth across his back. “This movement reminds me of fluffy icing being lathered and smoothed onto the top of a cake.” Patton told him softly as he continued the back and forth hand movements. He was moving both his hands around like a pair of icing spatulas. It felt amazing, and a lot more relaxing than the ‘sprinkle fingers’.
Patton smiled and continued the technique, before moving onto something new: Patton started walking his index and middle finger backwards from the top right side of the back, to the bottom. “I call this...the tiny moonwalk.” Patton told him.
Roman snickered at both the ticklish feeling from his fingers, and at the name of the silly technique. It tickled a lot, and made him shiver and giggle. “Nohohoho mohohoonwahalks plehehehease. Tohoho tihihicklihihish.” Roman ordered. Patton slightly frowned in disappointment, but dropped the negative attitude as he came up with a new technique:
Patton started rubbing and smoothening the top of Roman’s back with his fingers alone. He lifted his fingers off the skin, moved his hands down, lowered his fingers and started massaging again. He repeated this rubbing process all the way down his back, and even continued it up his back. Roman seemed to enjoy the feeling at first. But the piano silence quickly filled with giggles and laughter as the technique reached Roman’s lower back. Roman’s back was the most ticklish part on his body, that not even massouses can continue massaging him without causing some ticklish laughter.
Patton smiled at this adorable fact. “Say...How would you feel about a mini massager?” Patton asked.
Despite being tired, Roman’s eyes widened in horror as his imagination overwhelmed him with how ticklish that would be!
Suddenly, a vibrating sound could be heard, which only worsened his imaginative thoughts! “This mini massager is shaped like a turtle!” Patton reacted before placing the mini massager’s legs onto the small of Roman’s back.
Roman let out a surprised squeal! “aaAAAAHAHAHAHA! PAHAHAHAT NOOOOHOHOHOHO!” Roman begged.
Patton let out an almost evil giggle as he moved the massager around. “Patton YES!” he replied as he moved the massager up and down his lower back.
Roman wiggled around and laughed hysterically at the super ticklish massages! Oh gosh! It was so ticklish! He couldn’t believe just how ticklish a simple battery-charged mini massager could be! It was nuts! Roman laughed and snorted into his arms in ticklish excitement. This was both torturous, yet unbelievably fun! If there’s one thing Patton nailed, it was the inability to get bored during the massage! Who in the world could get bored when your back was being tickled to pieces by a turtle designed mini massager?!
Patton continued this ticklish technique for a good 10 more minutes before turning the massager off and rubbing away the ghost tickles. Patton softly resumed the icing-spreading technique he used earlier, to calm Roman down and let him breath.
The rest of the massage was a mix of feather light tickling, careful rubbing, and even massaging of the back ribs. Roman’s reactions often went from relaxed, to laughing, back to relaxed. There was no in between for Roman! It either tickled, or it felt good! That was the spectrum.
After the entire spa day, Roman could proudly say he feels a lot more at ease and relaxed. He could even say he feels an extra hint of giddy and giggly! Thomas could not believe the difference the sides were capable of creating on Roman. A spa day was exactly what Roman needed to relax and reward himself for the creativity he’s come up with.
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kristamariee · 3 years
Text
24 Ways to Reclaim Peace of Mind
Victor M. Parachin
It is not an understatement to say that these are stressful times. Almost routinely there are news reports that further heighten our anxieties-airport security is lax; the country is vulnerable to chemical, biological, and even nuclear attacks; our water can be poisoned and our food contaminated; sleeper terrorists are in our midst. The litany of dangers can unnerve even the strongest, most optimistic person. In spite of challenging times, it is possible to be a person who lives with serenity and tranquillity. Here are two dozen ways to reclaim your peace of mind.
1. Focus on what you can control.
Rather than obsess about terrorism and lack of security, focus on life- and health-saving behaviors that you can control. Exercise to keep your body healthy and strong. Wear a seat belt when driving, or a helmet when bike riding. Install smoke alarms. Apply sunscreens and get regular physicals. For areas of life that are beyond your control, place your focus on God. Join with the psalm writer who prayed, “My times are in your hands” (Psalm 31:15).*
2. Cultivate the “symptoms” of inner peace.
Inevitably, people who experience peace and serenity have some of the following characteristics of inner peace: a loss of interest in judging others; limited ability to worry; overwhelming episodes of appreciation; frequent attacks of smiling; feeling connected to others and with self; increased openness to receive love as well as an uncontrollable urge to extend it; a loss of interest in conflict and argumentation. Be guided by some wisdom from the apostle Paul: “The mind controlled by the Spirit is life and peace” (Romans 8:6).
3. Maintain perspective.
Often it is the loss of balance and perspective about life that increases stress and anxiety. Adopt the attitude that your cup is half full, not half empty. Consider this insight from Stephen Hawking, a world-renowned physicist. He is also imprisoned inside a body made helpless by ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis). Although he could have ample reason to feel sorry for himself, Hawking does not. Often he reflects on a young man he met while he was hospitalized: “I had seen a boy . . . die of leukemia in the bed opposite me. It had not been a pretty sight. Clearly, there were people who were worse off than me. At least my condition didn’t make me feel sick. Whenever I feel inclined to be sorry for myself, I remember that boy.”
4. Express gratitude.
The Bible instructs us to “give thanks in all circumstances” (1 Thess-alonians 5:18). Take that advice to heart. Alexander Whyte of Edinburgh was famous for his pulpit prayers. He always found something to thank God for, even in bad times. One stormy morning a member of his congregation thought to himself, The preacher will have nothing to thank God for on a wretched morning like this. However, Whyte began his prayer: “We thank Thee, O God, that it is not always like this.”
5. Adopt the “as if” principle.
The late French actor Maurice Chevalier was once asked how he managed to be so cheerful. The entertainer admitted that even though he invariably appeared to be cheerful, he didn’t always feel that way. This was his last approach: “When I sense an audience responding to the gaiety I am trying to give out, I feel gaiety coming back to me. It is like a boomerang–a little blessed boomer-ang. This works not only for the performer. It is a good game anybody can play.
“A man goes to his office,” Chevalier continued. “He is grumpy, growls a greeting to his secretary. She may have awakened spirited and jaunty, but right away the ugliness is contagious. Or in reverse, he comes in whistling. Maybe he has picked a flower from his garden for his buttonhole. He extends a merry greeting. It boomerangs. The office brightens.” The lesson: even if you don’t feel joyful at the moment, act as if you are and exude joy toward those with whom you have contact. The joy you give out will be the joy that returns to you.
6. Life in the present.
“Let us not look back in anger, nor forward in fear, but around in awareness,” declared writer James Thurber.
7. Be kind.
Live by the same philosophy that guided William Penn, founder of the state of Pennsylvania. “I expect to pass through this world but once,” he wrote. “Any good therefore that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to any fellow creature, let me do it now. Let me not defer it or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.”
8. Try to make your world a better place.
Be guided by this wisdom from Jim Henson, creator of the Muppets: “I believe in taking a positive attitude toward the world. . . . My hope still is to leave the world a little bit better than when I got here.”
9. Ask God for inner peace.
Adopt the spiritual style of the apostle Paul, who prayed, “May the Lord of peace Himself give you peace at all times and in every way” (2 Thessalonians 3:16). Personalize Paul’s prayer for yourself: May the Lord of peace Himself give me peace at all times and in every way.
10. Walk in the light.
“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that,” observed Martin Luther King, Jr. Be a person who lives and walks in the light.
11. Get back to nature.
Most people discover that spending time in the outdoors is a remedy for almost any soul sickness. Take advantage of this natural therapy by gardening, hiking, mountain climbing, or simply taking a leisurely stroll through a nearby park.
12. Practice self-care.
Your ability to deal with stress increases as you take care of yourself. Do this by eating nutritious, balanced meals, by exercising, and by getting enough sleep.
13. Smell serenity.
Take a walk through a grove of pine trees or light a candle that smells like cedar. Stimulating the olfactory senses can be a real spirit soother.
14. Believe in truth and love.
Consider this wisdom from Gandhi: “‘When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers and for a time they seem invincible, but in the end they always fall. Think of it, always.”
15. Get a daily dose of vitamin “H.”
Humor lightens the load of life and reduces anxieties. Buy a joke book and read it regularly, or check out the many humor sites on the Internet to get a laugh daily.
16. Finish what you start.
A great deal of satisfaction and contentment in life results from completing challenging and arduous tasks. John Stephen Akhwari of Tanzania is sometimes described as “the greatest last-place finisher.” This unique description was given to him in 1968 while in Mexico City competing in the Olympics. Out of the cold darkness Akhwari entered the far end of the stadium, pain hobbling his every step. His leg was bloody and bandaged. The winner of the Olympic marathon had been declared more than an hour ear-lier. Only a few spectators remained. But the lone runner pressed on. As he crossed the finish line, the small crowd roared out its appreciation. Afterward a reporter asked the runner why he had not retired from the race, since he had no chance of winning. He seemed confused by the question. Finally he answered: “My country did not send me to Mexico City to start the race. They sent me to finish.”
17. Moonlight.
Go out on a cloudless night. Gaze at the moon. Use your mind to picture a river of moonlight. Imagine loading your anxieties and concerns into a gondola, and letting them float all the stresses away.
18. Maintain personal integrity.
Duplicity is stressful. Avoid that trip. Say what you mean, and mean what you say. Exemplify the values you profess to admire.
19. Remember that attitudes are more important than facts.
Television personality Hugh Downs observes: “A happy person is not a person in a certain set of circumstances, but rather a person with a certain set of attitudes.”
20. Forgive generously.
When you have been slighted, of-fended, or insulted, train yourself to forgive quickly and generously. Rehearsing wrongs and reviewing retribution can be tiresome burdens to carry. Let go of resentment and relinquish the need of retribution. In so doing, you will discover the weight of anger and hostility is lifted out of your life.
21. Simplify your life.
You don’t need to have what “everyone” else has in order to enjoy life. Trying to keep up with others can break you financially and emotionally. Consider Alay Desai, who is an executive in the Silicon Valley. Despite his large salary and an M.B.A. from the Wharton School of Business, he returns home each evening to a one-bedroom apartment furnished only with history books and a used TV. He and his wife, Nilima, sleep on the floor on a comforter and two pillows. They drive a 10-year-old Chevy Nova. “I don’t need all those laptops and cell phones and Palm Pilots. I don’t need a BMW or a dream home full of tech toys,” he says.
22. Just say no!
You don’t have to do everything. You don’t have to agree to accept every request that comes your way. “No, thank you” can be the three-word sentence that gives you a less hectic schedule and more peace of mind.
23. Make mealtimes peaceful.
Never eat standing up. Don’t wolf your food down. Pace yourself at mealtime. Sit down to a table carefully set with china and silverware. Light a candle. Decorate a table with a floral arrangement. Offer a prayer of thanks for the meal. Eat carefully and consciously.
24. Know what’s important in life.
Don’t get caught up in chasing after superficial goals such as materialism, wealth, or success. Such a chase can become emotionally exhausting. Live by principles that are deeper and produce contentment with life. Tip O’Neill, the late congressman and former Speaker of the House, said some of the best advice he ever received was from his mentor, Boston politician James Michael Curley. Recalled O’Neill, “He said, `Son, it’s nice to be important. But remember, it’s more important to be nice.’ “
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Text
Escape
Welp... Somehow I'm writing this.
Tw: Unsympathetic Logan, Roman angst, toxic Logince, physical abuse, choking, implied financial abuse
@unsympathetic-october-2020
There were good times with Logan, which is why this was so hard. When Logan was sweet he was the sweetest. The two of them could talk for hours about Gravity Falls or the X-files, making stories about what happened after the fact or building on worlds. There were times when they could just read together, or he'd give Roman a thoughtful gift. He couldn't help but glance at his tragedy-comedy necklace...
But there were the bad times, Logan had a temper. He'd never admit he had a temper, when Roman mentioned it they had a fight where Logan very rationally and sensibly kicked him in the shin. He hated Roman's career, he mocked his acting and insisted that he try to get a 'real job' where he could make money. He called him irrational often, but Roman couldn't imagine anything more irrational than when Logan slapped him for calling him a bully during a fight. He rubbed the back of his neck, a scar where the chain of his necklace had dug into his skin when Logan tried to pull it off of him in anger claiming that he paid for it so it's really his. He took a deep breath, he couldn't stay here anymore, he couldn't spend the rest of his life terrified of Logan's wrath just to keep those far too short moments in between. He had Remus on speedial in case anything went wrong.
He clenched and unclenched the bag that held his belongings and knocked on his future ex's door.
"Logan, I'm leaving." It was a simple, short line to the slightly shorter man in front of him. The minute it was said he felt as if a weight had left his shoulders.
Logan nodded, "Okay. Put down the bag."
Roman blinked, that was not what he expected, "What?"
"You want to break off contact with me, that bag and all of the things inside of it were bought with my money. It only makes sense that you'd break contact with my things." He raised an eyebrow, "Unless you're planning on starting your new life by stealing from me."
Roman shook his head, "It's my stuff, you said-" if he put down the bag he'd lose everything, his clothes, his toothbrush... Even his soap!
"That was then, this is now." Logan stepped forward, eyes narrowed behind his glasses, "Put it down now or I'll call the police and have you arrested as the theif you are. You have nothing because you're an irresponsible, spoiled, childish person. The sooner you come to your senses and realize that, the sooner you can move on and become the homeless wanna be actor that you've always dreamed of being."
Roman could see that despite the cold, cool tone in his voice his eyes were growing more intense with rage. He felt his heart pound in his chest, he knew how this ended, with Logan slapping him for being an idiot and him appologizing and begging him to take him back-
He refused to let that be the ending. He pressed 5 on his phone and moved to try to run-
Only to feel a hand pressed against his throat. "Don't. Move." His voice was low and dark like a growing storm, the necklace dug itself into his skin, "if you move one muscle I will not hesitate to squeeze your life out."
Roman forced himself to not struggle and just focus on forcing air into his lungs and clinging to the bag, his knuckles turning white with effort.
"Put down the bag. Now."
Roman's breathing was shallow and weak, he closed his eyes hoping that this breath wouldn't be his last-
He got lucky.
Thank God Remus carries a baseball bat with nails in his trunk. His house was kind if messy, Roman did his share of the chores. But even with the stinky clothes and weird rainbow of stains that littered the appartment, every day felt like a better day than any one moment with Logan.
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sidespromptblog · 4 years
Text
Apologies
Summary: Roman has something that he wants to tell Logan, and ordinarily, it could wait until morning... until they were all well-rested. But he knew that should he turn away now... he'd never tell Logan, and he'd spend the rest of the night calling himself a coward. 
Word Count: 2900
AO3 LINK
Its already well past midnight when Roman walks to Logan’s room, and its already well past midnight when he just stands there pondering on whether he should even knock or just walk right back to his own room and go to bed. Or… in the very least try to go to bed, and just lay awake staring at the ceiling with his own internal thoughts running him in circles until the morning sun were to rise. He very well could do that, Logan would never know that he was there, and he could go on acting as if nothing were wrong. He was an actor after all… such a skilled actor to keep on acting and acting like nothing was wrong. 
It would be easy, so very easy to do so. At least had it not been for…
“Shut up nerdy wolverine!” The very same lines that his own brother had spoken to Logan, it really was just the latest slap in the face that he was no better than his brother. Sure he didn’t quip about sex jokes, and he didn’t throw ninja stars at people’s head, but… he had hurt them in other ways. Much more personal ways in the way that his brother too was very adept at doing as well, he had hurt… oh, he had hurt. 
“Hush sub-astute teacher!” 
“Stupid!”
“Book germ.”
“You’re alone!” 
His fingers itched and itched the longer that he stood there, and the longer that he stood there the more he was coming to regret just being there in the first place. Who was to say that Logan would even be awake at this time? With such a stickler Logan was about getting to bed on time, surely he’d be asleep and he’d be even more upset at Roman for interrupting his much-needed rest. He could already imagine the lecture now, Logan with his crossed arms and his pursed lips forming a frown. Especially with what had happened after today, after being wounded multiple times by Remus and being put through the wringer he’d need that rest and-
A shadow moved under the doorway.
He was awake, after midnight no less.
He could still leave and… 
“No,” Roman roughly shook himself, was he a prince or wasn’t he? “No running, you came here to do something, so do it gosh dang it!” He scolded himself, feeling almost ashamed to how close he had come to just dropping everything and running like a coward. There would be no running today from this, not now and most certainly not ever in his opinion. 
Not about this. 
But that didn’t necessarily make it any easier on him, that was for damn sure.  
Swallowing thickly as he raised his clenched fist to the door, Roman took in a deep breath before his short terse knocks connected to the door undoubtedly alerting Logan that someone was there. And just like that, with that one little realization that soon enough… Logan would answer the door and he’d have t deal with the awkwardness of asking to come in, that set Roman’s nerves ablaze. So without so much as giving it a second thought, he seized the doorknob and stiffly jerked the door open as if his wrist had been attached to a marionette string and not his actual body.  
And upon opening the door, slammed it right into Logan’s face. 
Almost immediately a hundred apologies spilled from his lips as he scuttled into the room slamming the door behind him in order to check and make sure that he hadn’t irreparably hurt the logical side. 
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! I should have waited for you to open the door, like a normal person would have. I didn’t do this on purpose, are you alright? Can you still see? Can you think? Can you count? How many fingers?!” Despite this… despite everything that he had come here to do tonight… he had still managed to hurt Logan with something as simple as opening a fucking door. Even Remus could open a door without managing to kill someone, even Remus could apologize in his own ways when he managed to upset Deceit. 
Even Remus… was better than him.   
His fingers gingerly ran over the red mark on Logan’s face, as if his touch alone could take such a mark away as if it had never existed in the first place. “I’m sorry,” He whispered, guilt and grief coloring his tone, “I’m so very sorry… for everything Lo. I… I’ve been a bad friend.”
Logan impassively stared back at him, his hooded eyes layered with a look of thick exhaustion that Roman’s words clearly weren’t getting through. He really looked… dead tired, with the dark circles seemingly etched under his eyes and his tie discarded on his bed and the first few buttons of his shirt haphazardously undone. His clothes were wrinkled in the tell-tale sign of someone who had tried to fall asleep, but had ultimately failed to do so and was now just staying up until morning. Honestly… Roman had never seen Logan look so tired, true he usually only ever saw Logan after he’d had some coffee and was out of his pajamas, but this… 
He’d never seen this before. 
“I said,” He began softly, just in case that Logan truly didn’t hear him. “I-”
Before he could so much as finish his sentence, Logan almost ruthlessly interrupted him. “I heard you the first time,” He blandly replied, sleep depravation stealing all of his tact and poise. “And I am choosing to believe that this is a hallucination due to my lack of sleep. Because even on a good day, there is no way that you would come to my room and be humble enough to apologize to me for anything.” Logan straightened his shirt a little bit, “So clearly following all logical explanations, you are either a hallucination… in which I should probably get some sleep. Or you are Deceit, in which case… go fuck yourself right off into Remus’ dicks and die for even thinking to try this on me.”  
Roman could only wince, as it turned out Logan with little to no sleep had less care and composure than Virgil did in those very same circumstances. Patton would turn as white as a ghost if he knew that Logan spouted off the profanity that he just had. However, all of that in its entirety paled in comparison to the fact that… despite everything, Logan thought that he knew for certain that this very occurrence happening right here and now was impossible. 
He thought the sheer idea of Roman coming to apologize could only be the works of dreams or manipulations… not the creative side himself.
“Logan…” He softly uttered as he took a step forward, “I am sorry Logan,” Roman hated the break in his voice as he softly repeated the other’s name, but clutching their dear logical side’s hands even tighter he forced his words past it as he stared into those hooded exhausted eyes of his friend. “I said that I was going to be better after Virgil, and that I was going to try harder not to push anyone else away with my actions and words. But I’ve been doing that to you, and I’m so so sorry. It won’t be happening again Lo, I pro-” 
“Don’t.” 
Came the single soft word as Logan’s hands easily slipped out of Roman’s grasp, leaving the creative side startled more than anything as he gaped openly back at the logical side. There was an unreadable expression on Logan’s face, and while he might not have known what such a look meant just the fire scorching the insides of Logan’s eyes made Roman’s stomach twist and turn the longer that he dared to look back. He’d only ever seen that fire once in Logan’s eyes, and he could remember that day as clearly as any of the others. It hadn’t been his fault, or really Patton’s or Virgil’s… but that fire that looked as if it could burn down forests had been there for a reason. 
“What?” He softly asked, only daring to take the smallest of steps forward only offering to reach out yet again. To offer the physical comfort to whatever had created that turmoil inside of Logan. “Why?”
A rough snort answered him before he even had a chance to recoil, “Roman,” Logan bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile, a hurt smile but a smile nonetheless. “I said it once… and I’ll say it again. You can’t make fun of Virgil anymore so you moved to me, so logically speaking if you don’t make fun of me who are going to go to next? I can take it. I can take all of it. But Patton can’t, Deceit and Remus won’t take it. And Virgil… Virgil won’t be able to handle it if you just go back to tormenting him like before, and that will make Patton angry at you. So…” Logan roughly rested his cheek against his clenched fist, this time not even bothering to look back at Roman as his eyes stared blankly ahead as if he was no more than a ghost and was seeing right through the creative side. “I can handle it… I did before and I can do it now. I can take it...” 
 Roman wanted to be sick. 
His stomach twisted and turned inside of him, to the point that Logan’s desk-side wastebasket overflowing with crumpled up notes was looking like the only place he could properly throw up in. What had he done? How on earth had he allowed this to get this bad? His nicknames were meant as jokes, especially towards Logan… but that didn’t negate the fact that.. that Logan had this outlook towards something like this. He wanted to hit himself, to stand in front of his brother and take whatever the other half of creativity could throw at him. What had he done? This was…
Bad. 
“You shouldn’t have to.” His words came out as no more than a whisper, and yet Logan’s head snapped up as Roman had just slapped him. Gingerly reaching forward, his hand shook and trembled until he cradled the curve of Logan’s cheek, his thumb slowly brushing over it as if wiping away imaginary tears. The words twisted and turned on his tongue, he needed to say this right… he needed to say this in a way that Logan would actually understand. “Logan… you shouldn’t have to deal with it, this isn’t a healthy mindset for you to have Lo… I don’t want to just keep hurting and hurting because I don’t have a filter. And you are hurting, you are… and there’s no shame in admitting that to anyone. I just…” Warmth burned at his eyes, and Roman internally cursed himself. “I want to help. I want to do better.” 
Just then in the slightest way possible, Logan’s bottom lip trembled as glassy eyes stared back at him.
Without even thinking about it, Roman seized the other side, pulling him into his chest and wrapping his arms so tightly around him that Logan would undoubtedly be able to feel his heart slamming against his ribcage. He cradled the back of Logan’s head as the other’s fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt, and as… as the wetness seeped into his shoulder. 
Logan.. Logan didn’t cry like anyone else he had come across, he had never really thought about it before but... He didn’t loudly weep like Patton did when watching a sad movie or being overcome by negative emotions, he didn’t shake and shiver as Virgil did in the throes of an anxiety attack, and he didn’t curl in on himself like Roman did when he tried to make himself as small as possible. He just stood absolutely still, the only evidence of his actions being the tears that were staining the creative side’s shirt and nothing more. His actions were so quiet… so precise, that it was impossible to be anything other than practiced.
Roman hated that, more than anything he had ever hated in his entire life. The mere image that it conjured, of Logan weeping to himself in the middle of the night trying to stay as quiet and emotionless as possible so that nobody could hear him. That he had practiced it, or even learned how to do it after being insulted one too many times… 
It tore at his insides unlike anything else.    
“I keep waiting for the shoe to drop,” At the sound of Logan’s hoarse voice Roman’s ears perked up a little bit, “Please just tell me, tell me when you’re going to be mean again. I don’t think that I can stand the waiting, so just… please.” 
Roman’s heart felt like it was tearing itself to shreds over the use of that one tiny little plea that escaped Logan’s lips, it hurt in ways that even the most worst battle on the feild could never compare to. He wanted to hold the other side tighter, to hold him so tight that Logan would never even question the fact whether Roman hated him or loved him, he wanted to wipe away those desperate pleas until there was nothing left but understanding, he… wished that he had never acted the way he did in the first place. But he had, he had hurt Virgil with his black and white views, he had hurt Patton by always assuming that he had nothing to offer but sunshine and fluff, and… he had hurt Logan by verbally throwing barbs at him even when it was obvious that Logan had long since grown tired of their little games. He wished that he had never hurt them in the ways that he did, but… he did, and there was no going back in time to fix that. 
He had hurt, and now he needed to mend. 
“Logan,” He whispered the other’s given name as if it were a promise, “I can’t promise that there will never be another insult. I’m not the best at changing, but… call me out when I do. I want to change and I am going to change, I will try my hardest to ensure that shoe never ever drops, I can’t promise that it will never happen. I will slip up, and wh.. if I do… Tell me. Don’t ever think that you just have to deal with it to save the others from being hurt, because… Because, I love you, Lo. I don’t want you being hurt either, it doesn’t matter what it is that I’ve done. If it’s hurt you… tell me, and we can figure something out. I promise, I swear it to you.”  
In response to his words, Logan only clung to him that much tighter, not saying a single word as he held onto the creative side like they were the last two people left alive in a desolate world. But Roman was alright with that, Logan didn’t need to say a single word to get his feelings across right now, because there was always the morning and there was always a later time they could discuss this. 
He wasn’t in a hurry, and yet…
“Can…” Once again he perked up at the sound of Logan’s scratchy voice, “Can you stay here? Just.. just so I can be sure in the morning that this wasn’t some hallucination or dream? I really don’t want this to be a dream.” And his heart, as well as all of his insides, turned to mush at the simple and yet so very delicate request coming from the logical side. He would have conqured mountains for anyone of his friends, and yet Logan’s only request was… that he stay and not leave. In compared to anything he could ever do for Logan… this was almost too simple. 
“Of course,” He merely whispered.
Leading the exhausted side over to the bed, he didn’t hesitate for a single second before crawling under the sheets with him. Curling his arms around Logan he felt the other side curl up tightly, resting his head against the creative side’s chest where his heart was once again firmly thumping against his ribs. In that moment he felt all too warm as Logan’s breath tickled his skin, but he didn’t say a word about it as he rested his cheek atop the logical side’s messy pile of hair listening to steady rise and fall of the other’s chest. He listened for as long as he could, resisting the heaviness of his own eyelids as well as his own exhaustion that tugged firmly at his mind. But eventually after being awake for as long he was, he was unable to keep up with the battle being waged. As his eyes slipped shut one last time finally allowing him to slip off into a well-deserved slumber. 
“Sleep,” He tiredly mumbled into Logan’s hair, pressing a tired kiss against those messy curly locks of his. Only offering a ghost of a smile at the faint snore coming from the dear logical side. “I’ll be here, for as long as you need me. I promise.”
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davieslandon · 3 years
Text
Discord Thread || Landon&Roman-01
Discord text thread featuring: Landon & @romanbeckett
When: 23rd March 2021
Mentions: @jayceelynd @aaronhart93 @quentindelancret
Description: Landon tells Roman that him and Jaycee are having a baby.
Trigger Warnings: accidental pregnancy 
LANDON
Landon could barely remember the last time he was so nervous about seeing Roman. Okay...that was a lie. The last time was probably after his best friend ‘found out’ he was in love with him but he tried not to think of that day too much. He wasn’t even sure why he was so nervous. Maybe because he didn’t know how he was going to explain the fact that Jaycee was going to have his baby even though he came out as gay a couple of weeks ago. Going in, he saw that Roman was already there and he walked over, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. Roman was probably worried enough already from his texts, no need to worry him even more. “Hey”, he smiled, taking a seat. “Thanks for meeting up with me.”
𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.
Roman of course was a walking billboard of emotions when he entered the cafe, worried to death about what in the world this news from Landon could be. Regardless of everything that had gone on between them, they still managed to keep an impossible bond. Landon’s problems, were Roman’s problems, and their friendship had always been that way. The way his brain was headed right now though was the possibility that there were complications or something with his recovery from the wreck. That was worst case scenario and not something he could ever be prepared for. “Of course.” Ro replied easily, his brows furrowed in their usual worried fashion as he took a seat and attempted to prepare himself. “Okay. Lay it on me before I have a stroke.” 
LANDON
Landon really should have known that Roman would still worry even though he reassured him that it wasn’t anything too bad. In reality, it wasn’t bad at all. The pregnancy definitely wasn’t planned and it was a shock to both him and Jaycee but things could be worse. He could be stuck having to coparent with a complete stranger. Or someone who had no interest in raising a baby, leaving him alone with two kids. Landon just wasn’t sure how Roman was going to take it. He knew the silence was getting to his friend though so in the end he went with his favourite method of doing things. Straightforward and winging it. “Jaycee’s pregnant and it’s mine.” 
𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.
Roman sat there waiting, blinking eyes eyes slowly at his friend like he was completely shutting off until the dead was done. He had no idea what news Landon could have had for him, but as soon as the words finally came out, Ro’s jaw was on the floor. That actually MIGHT be the last things he expected to hear coming out of Landon’s mouth. “She — wait. What??” He squints at his friend, trying to see him more clearly if possible. “You’re the father of Jay’s baby. How??” Roman didn’t want to make too big a deal about it, but for now his mind was fucked. 
LANDON
This was already going better than he was expecting. Sure, Roman’s jaw dropped down so much he could catch flies but at least he was still sitting down in front of him. He tried putting himself in his best friend’s shoes and could only imagine how shocked he was. Landon would be as well if someone told him they got their friend pregnant after coming out as gay. Why couldn’t his life ever be a little less complicated? Explaining it was going to be fun. “Uh...good question. Well...Jaycee and I used to hook up...sometimes? Before the whole gay revelation.” Landon could feel his cheeks turning bright red but he couldn’t stop now. “Remember when there was that snow storm and everyone got stuck inside? I was with Jaycee, we were both drunk and I guess one thing lead to another and...here we are.” 
𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.
Roman continued to stare at his best friend through his full explanation, trying to come up with the right words to say in response to this. Jay was also a close friend of his, and the idea that they were going to be having a baby together was just something he couldn’t really let sink in. “You and Jaycee...are having a baby.” He repeated yet again, as if saying it once more out loud would make it by easier to accept. “Are you sure?”
LANDON
Landon couldn’t blame him for being shocked over the revelation. He felt the same way when Jaycee first showed up at his house and told him that she was pregnant. “Yeah”, he said, looking while his best friend tried to wrap his head around it. “Jaycee said it’s mine and I believe her.” Landon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This wasn’t planned...at all. But it’s my baby Ro.”
𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.
Roman was still quite shocked by what Landon was trying to tell him, wanting to kick himself for it at the same time. This was his best friend, who needed his support, and he was sitting here...stunned. “I mean. Yeah.” The actor blew out a sigh and then pushed a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to act like such a shit, I’m just — what are you feeling?” He tried to pry, crossing his arms as he looked over his friend.
LANDON
Landon wasn't sure what Roman was expecting when he said he needed to talk to him but, whatever it was, he was sure it wasn't this. And so it's not like he could really blame him for looking shocked over his announcement but at least his best friend was taking the news better than he thought. Not that he thought Roman would start screaming at him over this but it was still nerve wrecking to tell him he got their mutual friend pregnant and he was going to be a dad again. "You're not acting like a shit, I know it's a shock. Trust me, I was shocked as well when Jaycee told me." Landon took a few seconds to really think about his answer, wanting to be as honest as possible. "I'm...not sure, to be honest. It's a lot and none of it was planned. So I'm nervous, terrified really, but also...excited."
𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.
Roman had always wanted to be a dad, but at the same time, it always seemed so far away. It was hard to imagine being surprised with such a huge step without any warning. Not to mention, it was Landon and Jaycee. He would have never been able to pick a more random assortment of his friends if he tried. “Yeah, I guess this is super exciting.” The actor smirked, already knowing he was gonna love this child an impossible amount. “My best friends are having a baby. This is so crazy...have you told your mum?”
LANDON
Landon had always known that he wanted more kids after Elle. He was raised in a big family and it was pretty amazing so it wasn't surprising that he wanted to have a big family as well but whenever someone asked he always said that he became a father at a really young age and there were some things he wanted to get done now that Elle was slightly older before thinking of having another child. Turns out that he was incapable of having a baby in a conventional way. "It is. Really surprising and unexpected but you know I could never abandon a baby, especially when it's mine." The mention of his mum made him wince. "Not exactly? You know my mum, she's going to be so excited to get another grandchild but she's definitely going to have words with me about being old enough to know about safe sex." 
𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.
Roman managed to break out into a lopsided grin when Landon mentioned his Mum talking to him about safe sex, the image of that just making him want to laugh. “God, I can just picture her having the talk with you, and it’s bloody hilarious.” Ro shook his head and then looked over at his friend once again. “Well, you know I’m gonna be here to help you both every step of the way. You know how obsessed I am with children.” It was crazy, Roman had always wanted a huge family, and yet here he was, constantly watching his friends have kids with no real idea when he was going to be ready to have his own. “Do you want a boy this time?” 
LANDON
Landon glared at his friend over his teasing but it was clear he was just as amused. "The safe sex talk was bad enough when I was sixteen, I never expected to get it at almost thirty as well. I'm supposed to be preparing to give it to my kid not the other way round", he said, shaking his head. His mum was definitely going to have a few words for him when she heard the news but Landon also knew that she was going to be supportive and the best grandma ever, just like she was when he said that he would be adopting Elle. It was moments like this that really made him miss living in London and being so close to his family. At least it would give him the perfect excuse for a quick visit. "I know, you're going to be the best uncle to this baby just like you already are with Elle." It was weird, for years he thought there would be a point where he'd finally get his head out of his ass and tell Roman how he feels. After having Elle, there were moments he caught himself thinking of what it would be like to have another kid in the future with who he thought was the guy of his dreams. Now it couldn't be more different and Landon should have known it was never going to work out that way. "Honestly, as long as they're healthy I don't really care about what we have. But having a little boy would be pretty cool."
𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.
Roman nodded when his friend said he didn’t mind what the sex was as long as the baby was happy. Ro was the same way when it came to kids, he just wanted to have a child, it didn’t matter if it was a boy or girl. Besides, Landon was gonna be an amazing dad regardless, because he already was. “I can just picture you having a mini me, i dunno, I think it would be so cool to see what a little Landon looks like.” The actor held out his hands in a picturesque gesture. “You seem to have those strong jeans that make your whole family look exactly the same.”
LANDON
Roman was definitely right about that. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Elle wasn’t biologically his daughter because she did resemble him a little. He knew for a fact that his sisters were often mistaken for each other so there’s that as well. “Yeah I won’t be surprised if they do end up looking like my family”, he chuckled. Landon was so grateful to Roman for taking the news in stride and being supportive. He should have known that he didn’t have anything to worry about. 
𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.
“Oh, I didn’t even ask how Elle is handling this.” Roman rubbed at his temples, realizing that he hadn’t even checked in on one of the most important people in this equation. “Is she happy about it, or feeling jealous?” Ro knew Elle pretty damn well obviously, but her mood could go either way for a lot of things. Either way, the little girl always had a strong opinion, so he didn’t doubt that she’d been upfront with Landon about how she was feeling on the subject. 
LANDON
“She’s ecstatic. Can’t stop yelling everyone that she’s going to be the best big sister ever. You know she’s been hinting at getting a sibling ever since Alison had the twins? That’s the thing with Elle and Des. What one does, the other has to follow.” His daughter might be a little spoiled but the sibling dilemma was the one thing he refused to compromise on. It was difficult to explain to a six year old why he couldn’t give her a baby sibling but he managed and getting a second dog was enough to get Elle’s mind off of it. Who could have known that a couple of months later he would have to go back on his words and admit it was happening after all? 
𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.
Roman threw back his head in a laugh when Landon said that Elle couldn’t stop telling everyone that she was going to be the best big sister. He had no doubt that was true. “God, I love her. That’s worth everything right there, just to see her that excited.” The actor smirked, and then tucked some hair behind his ear as he smirked across the table at the other. Landon was his best, and oldest friend, so of course Ro still had some reservations, and was worried that this would be harder on him than he would ever let on, but this could definitely be exciting. “Well, I can’t wait for this baby. Seriously. Two of my best friends having a baby?? This child is going to be BEYOND spoiled.” 
LANDON
Moments like these made it hard for Landon not to think about how lucky he was. He might not have a romantic partner raising his children with him but he had a support system that most people would be jealous of. His biological family were always supportive, even all the way from London and his close friends were basically his family. So he knew that Roman, like Aaron, would be there to support and help him with the baby, just like he was there for Elle. “Tell me about it”, he rolled his eyes teasingly. “Elle’s already spoiled enough, add another kid to that and everyone’s going to have their work cut out for them.” But he wouldn’t have it any other way. 
𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.
Roman was smiling the entire time Landon was talking, because he knew his friend was completely fine with his kids being spoiled to death. “They’re both going to be spoiled, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. I wouldn’t either.” He shrugged a shoulder, smirking down at the table before his gaze was flicking back up to look at his best friend. “Kids are so...I dunno. They’re a blessing, and Elle, your incoming baby, any future children you decide to pop out, they’re all so lucky to have you.” He nodded his head, both dimples painting his face as his eyes scanned the smaller male. “You’re such a good dad, Lan. I’m proper proud of you, seriously.” 
LANDON
“I definitely wouldn’t have it any other way.” His mum struggled so much to make ends meet when he was a young kid and it was just the two of them. She did everything she could to make sure he had everything he could need but it was still tough. Landon didn’t want his kids to know what it felt like to see their parents cry over another bill they couldn’t afford. Landon wasn’t sure he would ever be able to explain just how much Roman’s words meant to him. Just like any other parent, he had his moments where he felt like he was doing a shit job. Worries about whether or not he was doing the right thing, being too strict or too lenient...his concerns never stopped. So having Roman say that, it meant a lot and gave him the reassurance he needed that he was doing a decent job. “Thanks Ro, I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you though. You know that, right?”
𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.
Roman just managed to give his friend a smirk when he said he wouldn’t have been able to do without him, something Ro wasn’t sure was true or not. Landon was always a survivor, he figured out how to accomplish things when it felt impossible, and Ro always admired that about his best friend. “Well, I’d like to think that was the truth, but I also know how you are. You would be able to do all of this without me. I have no doubt.” He gave the smaller a small smile, and then nodded. “I just can’t believe we’re here, after all these years. You’re a dad times two.” Ro let out a heavy sigh, and then shook his head. “Seems like yesterday we were stuffing our faces and playing video games all hours of the night. Well, not that we don’t still do that, but.” He chuckled. 
LANDON
Some part of him knew that he would have forced himself to get through it on his own but he was still grateful that he didn’t have to. Roman was there for him from the very beginning, from school to college and all the way through fatherhood. Getting through all of Elle’s sleepless nights in the first few months without his childhood friend by his side would have been torture. “Maybe but who would have taken care of Elle for a couple of hours everyday just so I can get some sleep after a long sleepless night taking care of a baby?” Best friends or not, not many people would have done what Roman did for him. “I know...we still do that but it’s not the same. We didn’t have adult responsibilities back then”, he laughed. Landon had so many fond memories of them pretending to be asleep so their parents wouldn’t get mad, on to stay up till the early hours of the morning playing video games and eating all the snacks they could find in the kitchen. 
𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.
“To be fair, we still act like we have no adult responsibilities.” He teased with a sly smirk, even though that wasn’t COMPLETELY true. They technically had a lot of responsibilities now, and even though Des wasn’t technically his kid, he was already siding into the role of parent pretty quickly. He was taking on a lot more lately, growing into a proper adult, and he guessed it felt like it was finally time for that. It was a hard adjustment though, and those temptations to slip back into what they used to have were all too real. “I love the way life is going right now, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to go back just for like, a day or something. We seriously had no idea how good we had it when we were kids. I miss it sometimes, y’know?” 
LANDON
“Speak for yourself”, he said, rolling his eyes, although Landon couldn’t deny that Roman’s words held some truth. Landon might have been a father for the past six years but that never really stopped him from enjoying himself and having a good time with his friends. Maybe not when Elle was really young but ever since she got old enough to have a babysitter, it wasn’t unheard of for Landon to take a night off once a week to go out for a couple of drinks. Maybe  have some fun with someone while he was at it. And while he knew that he wasn’t the only parent to do that, especially considering he was a single parent, it didn’t stop him from feeling guilty sometimes. “I know what you mean. Life was so simple when we were still teens wishing to grow up. At the time it felt like life was out to get us but we had no idea how lucky we actually were. I wouldn’t mind going back to how it was for a day or two either.” Landon loved Elle, he loved the baby that was on the way and everyone in his life but he did wish he could turn back the clock sometimes, just so he could enjoy one more day as a sixteen year old. Then again, he wasn’t above admitting to himself that it was for selfish reasons, so that he could get one more day where it was just them two against the world, with no one else and no complications. But it was just wishful thinking and the sooner Landon came to terms with it, the sooner he could move on. 
𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.
Roman smiled at his friend when he agreed with his words, knowing he was probably reminiscing on the time they had together as kids. Ro often thought about it too, mostly because this was just the one person he’d always been able to depend on, besides his sister. Landon was always there, through every high and low, he’d even followed him to New York, and there’s nothing Ro could ever do to thank Landon enough. “Hey. We should all plan a trip to Disney world sometime when the baby’s old enough to go. Like, me, you, Jay, Elle, the baby, Aaron, Q, and Des. That would be fun, wouldn’t it??” 
LANDON
Landon didn't think he would ever forget the pure joy on Elle's face the first time he took her to Disney World. It was one of his most cherished memories and the idea of doing it again with his son filled him with excitement. Having his unofficial family all with him would only make the experience even better. Landon even thought that he could get over the painful tug in the pit of his stomach every time he saw Aaron, Roman and Quentin together. "I think that's an incredible idea. Elle would love the opportunity to go to Disney World with Des and the baby...well I don't know yet but with us around I'm sure he'll enjoy it as well", he joked with a chuckle. Landon looked at his phone and his eyes widened when he saw that it had gotten so late. "Shit, I have to get back home. Have an online meeting in half an hour. We'll plan a movie night soon to catch up? I miss us hanging out all the time." 
𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.
Roman smiled as he watched Landon’s reaction to the idea of them all going to Disney world, the idea that he could hangout with his best friend again while with his significant others making his heart swell. He’d been terrified since Landon admitted his feelings, afraid that this was going to ruin their friendship and make everything they’d spent years building come crashing down around their ears. The truth though, was that they’d been friends for so damn long, it was unofficial family. There was no running from each other. “Right. Yeah, I know you’re busy. But yes, absolutely we’ll plan a movie night soon. I’d like that.” He nodded, giving his friend a small smirk as well. “Let me know if you need anything. Please.” 
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Text
to dance on one’s grave
day five bringing us some bittersweet love, and my first attempt to write Virgil. 
ships: prinxiety
tw: death and gore ment. 
The lights of the old theater hum and flicker as they turn on, testament to how long ago they probably should have been replaced. Virgil huffs a laugh to himself as he walks towards the stage. The ghost lamp is still sitting there, which he flicks off in a moment. It’s not as if it actually does anything, on or off, but it's a habit at this point. He stands there for a moment, waiting to see if anything, or anyone, would appear, then turns towards the wings. 
“You’re so late today, I’d begun to worry you’d crossed over to my side without consulting me,” a voice calls from behind him. He kills the smile that begins to form as he turns around. Standing with his arms crossed is Roman, the utter asshole Virgil had somehow befriended during his long nights working at the theater. His brown hair was carefully unkempt as always, his white costume perfect except for the ugly stain of blood, still a bright red, across the center of his chest along where the gash that killed him sits. 
Oh yeah, Roman is a ghost. Virgil has a whole sixth sense, “I see dead people” thing going on. Another reason he doesn’t get along well with people. 
“What makes you think I’d have time to consult you before I died? It’s generally not a choice, as you’re well aware,” Virgil responds. Roman throws his head back in a hearty laugh that from anyone else, Virgil would be sure is completely fake. But no, Roman is just like that. 
“Fair enough, my knight in gloomy armor,” Roman says. “What are we working on today?”
“We aren’t working on anything. I’m doing a double check on the stage props, making sure nothing’s missing. We haven’t got that long until opening night,” Virgil says, throwing the response over his shoulder as he heads further into the wings. Roman, predictably, is not far behind him. 
“Is that so? How long exactly is there?” Roman asks. 
“Two weeks. Opening night is the twenty-seventh, today is the thirteenth,” Virgil calls back absently, making his way through the mess of a backstage he’s been left with. He doesn’t notice how Roman trails behind slightly at the comment. 
The rest of the night goes surprisingly well. There’s nothing incredibly important missing, none of the stage props have massive portions of them that are damaged or unfinished, and most of the hand props are also complete and unbroken. Virgil walks through everything once more to double check, and then heads to the stage manager’s podium to make sure that they have the lighting cues noted. Through the whole night, he notices that Roman is being oddly quiet. Certainly not silent, but he trails off at times, or starts rambling on about stories he’s already told, which he usually never does. They make their way back to the stage, and when Roman lets out another forlorn sigh, Virgil stops in his tracks. 
“Alright, what’s up with you tonight dude? You’re acting all,” Virgil flails his arms, gesturing at Roman’s bent posture, “Weird. I dunno.” 
Roman wanders to center stage before responding. “I died 34 years ago today. I officially have been on earth as a ghost longer than I was alive.”
Virgil grimaces. “Oh. I, uh, didn’t know that.”
Roman chuckles, sad and empty and not at all like his normal, boisterous laugh. “There was no way for you to know. I never told you.” He sits down on the stage, legs pulled into his chest. He looks so… young, like this. Virgil sits near him, a few feet away. 
“Do- do you wanna, like, talk about it?” Virgil knows he could have done that a little better, but he openly admits he’s bad at emotional conversations. He’s out of his element here, but he’s trying. 
Roman seems to appreciate it, at least, because he gives Virgil a small smile. “I was supposed to be the prince in a performance of Cinderella here in 1984. We were doing our last dress rehearsal when something went wrong. Somehow, one of the lights shattered right before I got to have my dance with Cinderella. I pushed her out of the way, but… I wasn’t fast enough to save myself.” He looks down at the gash running from just below his sternum to his stomach. Virgil follows his gaze and notices, from this distance, that the wound is more jagged than he thought. He can imagine some massive piece of glass falling from the catwalk, sees Roman running to push his co-star out of the way only to be impaled. It’s… not a pleasant image. 
Roman sighs, looking out into the house. “I just wish… I wish I could’ve gotten to have that dance. Maybe it’s selfish, but… I don’t know,” he trails off, letting his head fall to his knees. Virgil can’t do anything but look for a moment. He’s never seen Roman so small, so sad. He wants to do something, to help somehow, but it’s not like he could magically give him that last dance. 
Unless… 
“Wait right here!” Virgil shouts, then runs to the speakers. He plugs in his phone, and goes through his phone to find the track he was looking for. Thank God he didn’t delete the songs from his last show. 
He runs back onto stage just as the first strains “Waltz for a Ball” began to filter through. He stops just before he runs directly into Roman and holds out a hand. 
“Fair warning, I don’t know the choreo for this, so you’ll have to guide me,” he says. Roman looks from his hand to his face, and he breaks into a bright grin. Virgil can’t help but smile back. 
“Worry not, I’ll be able to get us through this,” Roman says, full of his normal gravitas again. He grabs Virgil’s hand, feeling surprisingly solid, if a bit cold. Then he sweeps them into the dance. 
The dance is, in all honesty, quite simple. Virgil remembers that much from when he ran sound for it at another theater a while back. There’s lots of people dancing all in unison, so of course it’s relatively simple and easy to coordinate. That doesn’t make it any easier for Virgil, who is not a talented dancer (he works backstage for a reason), and who is rapidly becoming aware of just how bright Roman’s eyes are, and that he has a splash of freckles across his nose and cheekbones, and that he’s close enough to Roman’s face to make out details on his nose and cheekbones. 
Roman chuckles at some point, muttering that he’s “literally dancing on his own grave”, and that statement shocks Virgil back into a bit of reality. He’s dancing with a ghost. This isn’t some cute guy he somehow managed to flirt with, this is the ghost of a man who died decades ago, whose only source of companionship is the one person in the world who seems to be able to see him. 
It doesn’t make the heat leave his cheeks, and it doesn’t slow his beating heart, but it does sit like a rock uncomfortably in his stomach. 
The final strains of the song fade out, Virgil laughing as Roman says all of the lines of all of the actors in dramatic, ridiculous tones. They step away from one another slightly, Virgil’s face slightly red, Roman with a bright grin across his face. 
“I… thank you for that , Virgil,” Roman says suddenly. Virgil looks up at him, and he continues. “I never actually got to do that whole dance in costume. Obviously, this isn’t exactly how I thought it would happen, but…” Roman glanced up at Virgil, his eyes flitting over Virgil’s face. “I couldn’t ask for a better dance partner.” His soft smile knocks the breath right out of Virgil’s lungs, so he can only stare for a moment. In fact, it’s his prolonged staring that makes him realize something. 
“Uh, Roman? Why are you getting more see through?” Roman’s face morphs into a state of shock when he looks down at his own body, apparently also seeing the way he’s quickly fading. Then he lets out a slightly hysterical laugh. 
“The last dance. That’s what was keeping me here. But you helped me resolve it, so now I can-”
“You can pass over,” Virgil finishes his sentence with not a small amount of dread. If Roman passes over, he never gets to see him again. He never gets to have long, ridiculous conversations about absolute nonsense during his long hours. 
Roman gives him a sad sort of smile, like he knows exactly what Virgil is thinking, which of course he does. He seems to be able to read Virgil like a book. He reaches out and lays a gentle hand on Virgil’s cheek. 
“Thank you. Not just for this last dance, but for all of the nights you kept me company. For all of the secrets you divulged to me. For all of the love you let me feel, for the first time in a very long time. I just ask one thing of you: don’t forget me, please.” By the time he finishes, he’s almost completely gone. Virgil puts his hand over Roman’s, trying to cling to his last few moments with him. 
“I couldn’t forget you, even if I wanted to,” Virgil whispers. Roman leans forward, eyes closing, and brushes a soft kiss against Virgil’s lips. Before Virgil can respond, he’s gone. 
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perspective-series · 4 years
Text
Pet Perspective (3/19)
By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67
Warnings: Unwanted touching, injuries
First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter
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The borrower began to wander around, taking note of the various objects placed on the desk, the most useful being the lamp. Sending one last glance towards Virgil, Roman casually went over to inspect it.
 Virgil paused. Roman was being too quiet. He subtly glanced over the top of his phone and to Roman, wondering what he was doing.
Since he wasn’t stopped yet, Roman reached out, giving the lamp cord a gentle tug. Finding it relatively secure, Roman grabbed it with both hands and jumped off the edge of the desk.
 Virgil was quick to jump up and kneel down under his desk. “Nope!” He quickly reached out and grabbed Roman before he even made it to the ground.
Roman smirked. While he had not gotten as far as would be ideal, he had succeeded in pulling Virgil’s attention.
“What?” Roman asked innocently.
 Virgil rolled his eyes and brought Roman back up to the desk. “You aren’t sneaky, you know.” Virgil said. “It was obvious the second you stopped talking that you were up to something.”
Good to know. Roman took note of that for future escape attempts. “I wasn’t trying to be sneaky.” This time. “I was just entertaining myself, since clearly you won’t.”
 “You want to be entertained?” Virgil asked. “Fine.” He smirked and turned around, tossing Roman onto the bed.
Roman let out a yell, suddenly regretting his decisions as he flew through the air, tumbling to a rough halt on the heavily cushioned surface. 
Roman lay on his stomach, pulling his head up to stare incredulously at Virgil. “What is wrong with you?!”
 “Nothing. Why?” Virgil asked innocently as he took a seat on his bed near where Roman landed.
Roman started to roll closer to Virgil when the bed sunk beneath his weight, so Roman hastily got to his feet and tried to scramble back. “You can’t just throw me!”
 “Why not? It’s not like you’re hurt or anything.” Virgil paused, looking Roman over. “...Right?”
Roman’s eyebrow quirked, the borrower getting an idea. Was Virgil actually a human who cared about a borrower’s well-being? Well, Roman could certainly use that to his advantage during his temporary stay.
“As if you care.” Roman immediately slouched his posture, wincing as he grabbed at his side to fake injury. Of all his skills, Roman was quite proud of his acting talents.
 Virgil’s eyes widened. “Crap.” Virgil muttered, reaching down to gently scoop Roman up into his open palm. He brought him up to his face. “I figured the bed would be soft enough...where does it hurt? Do you need anything?” Borrowers were a lot more fragile than Virgil first thought.
“Ow!” Roman cried out, actually feeling nothing as he flinched when grabbed. “For one thing, I need you to stop making it worse.”
 “S-Sorry!” Great, he was already looking to be a bad owner. Virgil stood up from his bed and came back over to the desk, sending his hand down so Roman could get off himself.
Roman all but limped off Virgil’s palm, hiding a smirk as he did so. This was almost too easy. Perhaps his initial judgement was wrong; Virgil was easily manipulated.
 “Okay...do you think you might need bandages or anything?” Probably not, if it was just a bruise but Virgil felt the need to ask anyway.
“I just need to rest, and dress my wounds.” Roman moaned dramatically, sinking forlornly against the edge of the cage.
 Virgil paused for a moment, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “...Right.” He shook his head. “I think maybe some pain meds might be good for you. Just to be safe.” Virgil looked from Roman and then to the door. “Stay right there, I’ll be right back with some.” Virgil headed out of his room, closing the door behind him.
Roman’s eyes widened, watching the door close. This was incredible! Roman had never made an escape so soon, but with no time to waste Roman found himself dashing for the lamp cord with a hope in his heart. As he grabbed on and began to slide down he was already inspecting the room, looking for a suitable exit that could get him out, permanently. The borrower spotted a vent at floor level near the door and knew that, while dangerous, he was just going to have to make a run for it.
 Virgil, who was still right by the door, waited a few moments before throwing the door open. His eyes went to the empty desk and he groaned. “I knew it.” He searched the floor, looking for the tiny.
Uh oh. Roman quickly ducked around a pile of clothing, hiding himself from view and cursing under his breath. Alright, two options. Should he go back to Virgil with a good excuse, or make a break for it?
For once, Roman’s imagination failed him as he struggled for an excuse, so it seemed his decision was made for him. Taking a deep breath, Roman began to dart through the mess, using the emo’s hoarding to his advantage.
 Virgil thought he saw a flash but as soon as he checked under or around whatever was on his floor, he was gone. He continued to scan the room, frustrated with himself for having such a messy room. Great, now he probably had to clean it, once he caught Roman.
Roman peered around a discarded hoodie, pleased to see Virgil was looking the other way. This was it, the final dash. Roman sprinted for all he was worth, heart still rapidly pounding in his chest when he reached the vent. With a victorious grin Roman tugged on the vent, only for his face to fall as he realized he may have celebrated too soon.
The vent didn’t budge.
“Come on!” A frustrated Roman huffed, pushing his leg against the wall and using all his body strength to try and move the darned grate. It was no use- the bars were screwed into place.
 At the sound of a quiet voice, Virgil turned and saw Roman, trying to pry the vent open. He started over there. “There you are.”
“Uh oh.” Roman quickly changed tactics, instead launching himself forwards and trying to wriggle through the slanted bars. He didn’t get very far, now stuck with his torso wedged in and his legs uselessly dangling. 
 “Whoa, hey!” Virgil cried when he saw Roman trying to go through the bars. He kneeled down as he got there and grabbed hold of Roman’s legs, pulling him out with a hard tug and lifting him up, not bothering the change how he held him just yet.
“OwowowowOW!” Roman protested, painfully dragged out to dangle upside down. He gulped, the blood rushing to his head. Now would be a great time for an excuse. Roman thought distantly.
 Virgil rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m not falling for that again.” Looks like his pet was a little actor. “Wanna tell me why you keep trying to get away? Or, better yet, why you made me think I hurt you?” He had actually been worried there for a moment.
“Well you certainly hurt me now!” Roman winced, feeling his bones already beginning to ache. He hoped to avoid the first question entirely.
 “Right, uh huh.” Virgil rubbed at his face with his free hand. “You can drop the act, it ain’t working on me again.” He brought Roman back over to the desk, flipping him over in his hand before setting him down.
Roman rubbed at his side, realizing he might have made a grievous error in feigning injury- now that he was actually in pain, Virgil didn’t believe him.
 “Well? You haven’t answered my questions yet.” Virgil spoke with a raised brow.
Play dumb. “...what questions?” Not that dumb! Roman bit his lip, not meeting Virgil’s eye.
 Virgil narrowed his eyes. “Roman, I don’t sleep much. So I can be here all night if I have to.”
“Well that doesn’t sound very healthy.” Roman once again deflected the topic. “Have you tried an ambient noise machine? I’ve heard they help with insomnia.”
 “I have, doesn’t help. Stop avoiding the questions.” Virgil said, crossing his arms. Maybe getting such a stubborn and rebellious tiny had been a bad idea…
Roman took a step back, nervous as he continued on his tangent. “Maybe a weighted blanket then? Or a heated one. Those could certainly be comfortable.”
 Virgil grabbed Roman into a fist with no warning, bringing him up to his face and glaring at him. “Answer the questions.” He practically growled out.
Roman gasped, all the air knocked out of his lungs. He scrunched up his face in pain, his elbow jutting into his stomach and Virgil’s relentless grip sure to leave bruises. “V-virgil, you’re hurting me.”
 “I already told you, I’m not falling for that again.” He wasn’t even holding Roman that tight. “Now just answer me already and we can put this all behind us.”
“I was trying to get away!” Roman said hurriedly, his little heart beating rapidly as he began to panic. He tried to take a steady deep breath, but Virgil’s painful grip only allowed Roman shallow breathing. 
 “Why? Like, I get that you aren’t used to me yet but seriously, I have to be better than trying to survive out in the wild.” Roman would probably die out there.
“At least out there I can choose for myself, and-and have a bit of adventure while I’m alive.” Roman struggled to try and create even the barest bit of space for himself. “I refuse to live a life of submission and die of boredom in a cage.”
 “It’s not...that bad. Besides, you just got here. That cage is temporary.” Virgil sighed and went ahead and put Roman down, glad they finally were getting somewhere. “You can choose whatever kind of enclosure you want when we go shopping tomorrow.”
Roman immediately took the chance to take a deep breath, doubling over at the waist.
“I don’t want an enclosure.” Roman growled, glaring up at Virgil. “A cage by any other name is still a cage.”
 Virgil frowned when he watched Roman bend over. Man, he was really milking this fake hurt bit. Shouldn’t he have realized by now that it’s not going to work again? “Look, I know we’re not off to the best start but we’ll get there eventually. And maybe we can go on our own little adventures.”
Roman just rolled his eyes, focusing on getting air back into his lungs. Of course Virgil didn’t understand; none of Roman’s humans ever did.
 “Anyway, it’s time for you to go to bed now.” Virgil looked at the empty cage and stood to grab a clean shirt from his closet, stuffing it inside as a temporary bed for Roman. “There we go.”
“How thoughtful.” Roman said through gritted teeth, painfully straightening up.
 “Again, we’ll get something better for you tomorrow. Now in you go.” He lightly nudged Roman towards the cage.
Roman stumbled, letting out a grumble beneath his breath as he staggered into the cage, his body bruised and beaten.
 Virgil closed the cage door. “Alright, goodnight Roman.” He said, before turning off the light and hopping into his own bed. It wasn’t to sleep though. Instead, he got out his phone and started scrolling through tumblr once again.
Roman carefully propped up the shirt, doing his best to mold it into a suitable bed. The borrower nestled in, giving a whimper as his bruises flared up again. Roman had gotten cocky, and now he knew this was going to be no walk in the park. He was determined to succeed, no matter how Virgil tried to break him.
--------------------------------------
 Patton turned to his borrower after watching Virgil and Roman disappear upstairs. “I don’t know why Roman was treating you like that. And Virgil shouldn’t have been encouraging that behavior, I’m sorry about all that.”
“I was confused as well.” Logan admitted, having found the other borrower’s behavior odd. He did appear a bit more wild, so perhaps that was why he was so ill-mannered.
 “Hmm, well hopefully he’ll learn some manners soon. Anyway, are you all done? Or did you want some more?” Patton asked, ready to make another sandwich if it was wanted.
“I...could consume more.” Logan said. He was no longer hungry, but at the thought of being carried again Logan instantly chose the path which would delay the inevitable. Not a healthy mindset, he supposed.
 “On it!” Patton chuckled, making another mini sandwich. He handed it to Logan and sat back down, his own plate already discarded in the sink.
Logan took his time with this one, nibbling idly on the bread and hoping the meal could last forever, despite that being physically impossible.
 Patton hummed. “So, that tiny food is out of the question…” It had truly been disgusting. Patton gagged at the thought of it. “What kind of things do you like to eat instead?” Patton asked.
“Ah, well, I’m not quite sure.” Logan looked a bit sheepish. Being in captivity, tiny feed was often all he was fed. Other borrowers would get a bite of a shopkeeper’s meal if they were a favorite, but Logan had never fallen into that category.
 “Oh, well...how’s the sandwich? Would you want more of those?” Patton asked. He had to assume he liked it if Logan asked for seconds.
Logan nodded. Being full it had mostly lost its flavor, but he still found this meal far more satisfying. “Thank you, for going through the trouble. I know it wasn’t necessary.” Logan used his manners, knowing he would have a better chance at getting more favors in the future this way.
 “Aww, it’s no problem kiddo!” He was so polite, Patton loved it. “Just to ask, would you be willing to tell me your name now?”
Logan considered this. He would have been willing to exchange that information to be rid of the tiny food, but Logan had managed that (with Roman’s assistance) without needing to reveal his name. Seeing no reason to give it up now, Logan shook his head.
 Patton deflated at that. “Oh. Well, alright. Just let me know if you change your mind!” He said, putting back on his smile. “You all done?” He asked, noticing the lack of sandwich in the borrower’s hand.
Logan, hesitant as ever, nodded. He supposed it was better to get it over with, then.
 “Great! Then let’s go back up to my room.” Patton said, and gently scooped Logan up into his open palms.
Logan tensed, automatically reaching out his own hand to steady himself against Patton’s fingers.
 Patton cooed at that and walked upstairs to his room. He sat down at his desk and set the tiny down on top of it. “You know, I’m so happy I got you. I went into the shop not knowing how I was going to choose but when I saw you, well, it’s like I just knew, ya know?” Patton rambled.
“My recollection of such an emotion is lacking.” Logan said stiffly, brushing himself off to stop the shaking.
 “Well, I think I made the right choice. I can tell that you and I are going to have a lot of fun together.” Patton couldn’t wait to go shopping and get him so much stuff. He had a feeling he’d be spoiling the little guy.
“You said that before.” Logan recalled. He still did not share the sentiment.
 “I know! I’m just that sure!” Patton laughed. “How long were you in that place anyway? Were you anywhere before that?” Patton asked, curious about his tiny’s life.
Logan considered that an innocent enough question to dignify it with a response. “I’ve been transferred between a few facilities, all identical.”
 “Aww, that must have been hard.” Patton frowned sadly. “Well, now you won’t have to deal with the constant moving around anymore.”
“It wasn’t difficult.” Logan looked confused, thinking about the task literally. “My responsibilities regarding the move are equivalent to none.”
 Patton chuckled. “I know that. But moving from place to place can take a real toll on someone mentally and be kind of scary. But I promise, this is your last stop. I’m not planning on ever getting rid of you.” He scooped Logan up and held him to his chest in a hug.
Logan let out a strangled ‘oof!’, squirming immediately at the overwhelming contact.
 Patton chuckled before taking him away from his chest but he didn’t put him down. “Have I told you how cute you are yet?” Patton giggled, reaching out with his free hand to pet his borrower on the head and then down his back.
“I- yes, I believe it has been mentioned.” Logan shuddered. He tried closing his eyes to block out one of his senses, but that just made his sense of touch more heightened.
 Patton frowned as he noticed this. “Hey, bud, are you okay?” He asked, bringing him a little closer to look him over.
“I…” Logan paused, remembering his lessons. Though he loathed being touched by strangers, humans always seemed to want to coddle him and did not enjoy being told ‘no’. Hence, the collar. “I will manage.”
 “Are you sure? I want you to feel comfortable with telling me if something is wrong.” He didn’t want his tiny to feel alone and unwelcome in his new home, after all.
Logan almost snorted at that. How could he, when it was technologically impossible for him to do so?
“I prefer to be set down.” Logan explained quietly, gauging Patton’s reaction.
 “Hm? Oh! Sure thing, bud.” Patton set him back down on the desk, giving him a big smile.
“Thank you.” Logan gave a grateful nod, relieved to be on a solid surface once more and not being prodded.
 “Of course kiddo, now, I think it’s about time for bed, yeah?” Patton said and then grabbed a small blanket, stuffing it inside the cage. “Don’t worry, this is just temporary. We’ll pick out a bed for you tomorrow.”
Logan gave another nod, knowing his place as he walked inside.
 Patton shut the cage door as soon as he was in all the way. “Goodnight bud. Sweet dreams~” And with that, Patton turned off the light and got into bed.
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