#hate being self aware enough to know my feelings are illogical and not helping me at all and actually hindering my progress

[mejomonster]

you know. 10+ years of therapy later, heaps more self awareness then i ever had when i was younger, relief from daily panic attacks for years mostly... and then you get a week of several. and then you’re sorely reminded for all the coping skills in the world, for all that you’ve got an adult brain now that not only knows more information to help when you’re calm but also has Actual Practice self soothing you and keeping you alive and safe until your mind is back online after a panic attack. For all of that... you can’t fight your own body past a certain point, it’s still a loss of control where you can’t breathe and your chest pounds and your thoughts go to horrifically dark places you’d never even let them stray anymore if you Weren’t having a panic attack, you still can’t bear the lack of relief and horror any more than as a child, you’re not quite as powerless as a child in that you can find a safer location than child you ever could. but you’re still to a large degree completely powerless in your own body.

all that work, and i know people have done a lifetime’s of work more than me like 60 years, and then a panic attack still has the power to make you like a three year old with your own body and brain attacking you and like a child the only real way to ride it out is... bear it. you don’t turn off a panic attack, you don’t get to stop it, at Minimum it’ll be 5 minutes of utter hell even if you do everything right and breathe right and find your sheet with coping mechanism directions and don’t end up trying to kill yourself to make it stop. you’re a big adult and you can run away or fight other people hurting you now, a lot of the time. but your body and brain decide to attack you and there’s no where to run.

and that’s always been the worst part of it for me, and why i got suicidal when i used to have 5 panic attacks or more a day, and why it was worse than all the Other monumental stress i’d been going through at the time. and i am very sad to be honest. sad that even if it’s just 5 panic attacks, this week in a whole year of a good year, the awful feeling of being out of control and at the mercy of them until they’re over still made me feel suicidal. i didn’t want to remember that emotion, that heavy place, i didn’t want to feel so awful that it came up as some kind of illogical mental comfort suggestion as an alternative to bearing through a panic attack. i didn’t want to ever feel that awful again. i am really sad about the fact that it’s just a part of life that once in a while, no matter what, i’m going to feel completely powerless and attacked by my body and brain to such an awful degree i’ll want to die. even though i love being alive the rest of the time, literally fought my own physical health for the past few years to KEEP myself alive even when i had no energy left to push to survive. even with all that, i’m going to just occassionally get the awful panic attack visit, and feel the worst, want to actually be gone because it is so awful to me to feel that fucked up. and have to endure feeling both those things for 5 minutes to an hour or whenever it finally fucking ends. 

i just. this recent week really showed me that for all the healing in the world, there’s a big raw center in me that’s still in danger of feeling the worst and reacting with wanting Anything to end it, and it’s just probably always going to be there. that was just the life path i ended up with. at whatever point the trauma damage became enough in life to start getting panic attacks, that was it, it became too often for too long, and now even with it being rare it’s still always something that will probably occasionally happen. i hate feeling helpless to stop something but there it is. i know panic attacks can’t just be stopped on will cause i wouldn’t be actively suicidal during them if anything else i could do could stop them instantly. 

(i should note for people like me though there is a LOT you can do to cut panic attack time down to 5-15 minutes and make them less horrific, including breathing in a way that starts rest/relaxation response, eating something and drinking water, sitting or laying down, and getting somewhere you feel SAFE if possible so you feel you’re not in danger if you DO have to cry/be unable to breathe/shake etc for an hour, texting or calling or being with a friend may also help depending on What helps you personally - for me a friend can sometimes help me stop the horrific thoughts during a panic attack so i only have to physically ride it out). 

it just. makes me really sad you know. i know there’s a little mejo i used to be that this happened to for the first time a long long time ago who was terrified, who went through too much trauma until this started happening, who was so happy and relieved when the panic attacks finally one day became less and less. it makes me sad to be like i love you little me, me once upon a time, and i’m sorry we’re still going through this, i’m sorry i won’t be able to completely stop this and it will still keep happening and scare you in the future. im sorry we are trying our best to protect ourselves but this is just one area we can’t ever fully patch up. i wish i could protect you better. 

(if you’ve ever read complex ptsd by pete walker, emotional flashbacks are another thing that i would figure is not totally unavoidable in future. even with all the healing for decades, its bound to occassionally happen, and coping skills can help shorten the duration or mitigate actions taken during an emotional flashback to be less harmful to one’s life, but the awful emotions and illogical thoughts during one are going to pop up every so often until you ride them out. those? while they suck, i’m in general better with riding them out more nowadays when they happen on occasion. 

but panic attacks man... nothing like my heart pounding, breathing fucked, head screaming every awful thought in the world, shaking, just absolutely desperate to make the experience end. i was kind of hoping if i did enough work, panic attacks wouldn’t be a lifelong concern, just a sucky thing that i was prone to for a particular decade. but looking back, i’m vaguely aware toddler mejo and kid mejo had their fair share of panic attacks, which my parents just kind of called me ‘working myself up,’ and teen me definitely had them and wrote them off as just general ‘being suicidal’ even though it’d be fine and then suddenly physically Fucked Up and wanting Anything to make it end, and so i didn’t notice much was up until i was an adult having them at jobs alone on a shift. and if this has been happening since i’ve been old enough to talk or before i could remember, i think it’s probably unrealistic to assume it’s ever going completely away.)

#rant #panic attacks #idk man. i really think they're one of the worst experiences in life #i just happened to get one of the brains that has them wired to happen

[kimsaena88]

There are not enough words for me to express how proud I am of BTS and all that they have achieved. They have surpassed the expectations of any Kpop group or idol, becoming more than just world famous stars. With their passion, hard work, positive outlook and message, and an unapologetic love for their fans, starting from their humble roots in music, BTS have now become representatives of Korea alongside President Moon as his presidential envoy. They have been appointed diplomatic status, and will speak on behalf of the global youth to raise awareness on global issues and expand communication among the younger generations. They truly are amazing!

BTS have become so much more than a Kpop act, and the pride Korea has in them proves this. As I mentioned in my last post, as a Korean, and as an Asian, they mean so much to me, too. I’ve never felt so empowered, heard, or seen, as an Asian, let alone a Korean, before. My love for my Korean heritage has never been stronger, and I take pride in my identity more than ever. BTS makes me want to speak up for myself, on behalf of Koreans and Asians. BTS helped me love myself for who I am and what I look like. They helped me understand myself, and learn to listen to my inner voice. They are more than just some Kpop boy band that I praise and worship mindlessly.

There is nothing wrong with finding solace, refuge, love of self, or pride in what you admire and enjoy. It doesn’t make you crazy or illogical. It doesn’t make you any less of a conscious and responsible being. You can learn so much about yourself and the world when you let yourself explore this type of love. If you ever feel like a fool for being passionate about BTS, and what they mean to you, because someone else tried to label your feelings as some mere psychological phenomenon and nothing more, just remember that it is not up to anyone but yourself what it is that makes you happy.

If BTS happens to be what gets you through the day, helps you better yourself, anything at all that brings some light into your life, that’s enough. You don’t have to justify anything to anyone. Some people don’t realize, or care to recognize, that for others BTS may be the only friend they have, or the reason they now have a voice. Many ARMYs have also thanked BTS for saving them from self hatred, loneliness, and suicide, and somehow appearing in their time of need. How can that be considered insignificant or trivial? How can that be reduced to senseless fangirling?

I know that, as with every fandom, ARMY is not devoid of toxicity or needless drama, but I believe that most of ARMY is good and means well. For example, choosing not to buy the Billboard magazine which insulted BTS and their fans despite being wrapped up in pretty BTS pictures proves that ARMY will not open their wallets for ANYTHING BTS. Painting BTS as undeserving and ARMY as conniving chart manipulators was enough grounds to warrant a pushback against Billboard, and an overwhelming refusal to purchase the BTS Billboard magazine package. ARMY, not just internationally, but also in Korea (some think it was just I-ARMY overreacting), proved to be conscious consumers and fans by choosing dignity and respect over gorgeous pictures of BTS.

I say all this in the midst of the growing animosity and belittling being hashed out to BTS and ARMY by antis and fleeting fans alike. As BTS continues to make Korea proud, and bring happiness to ARMYs all over the world, there are those who have to insult, degrade, and explain why BTS doesn’t deserve all that they’ve worked for, or loudly protest the conceived missteps BTS have been taking on their path. It’s disappointing to say the least. However, at the end of the day, I know that, for me, BTS brings me comfort in my troubles, pride in my Korean identity, and they continue to wow me with their music and performances. That’s what matters, right? If BTS makes you happy, ignore the negativity and the naysayers; these individuals can sit themselves in a corner, so don’t concern yourself with them. Unfortunately, BTS can’t even be respected as artists and professionals by some of their own “fans,” so it’s no wonder they catch extreme hate from the outside.

At the end of the day, love what you love with no regrets. Enjoy the things in life that make you happy, even if it’s a boy band from Korea.

♪방탄 힘내세요~ 아미가 있잖아요!!♪ (If you get the reference, you win at life lol)

Congrats, 방탄!! 💜💜

#방탄소년단 #bts #bangtan #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #jikook #presidential envoy

[eliemo]

Silence Speaks

Summary: Virgil can't get out of bed. Days like this are nothing new, he just doesn't know how his new family will react to him being so pathetic.

TWs: Depression, depressive episode, brief death mention, self-hatred, temporary nonverbal episode

Notes: Found this fic in my drafts from a few months ago, so I cleaned it up to post since LB and Permafrost are taking a bit. Enjoy <3

Virgil knew it was going to be one of those days when the third hour passed with no change.

Everything was too much. His chest hurt, every breath was just too much work, all he wanted was to sink into the blankets and sleep the rest of his life away. He’d been staring blankly at the wall since he’d woken up, curled up on his side with tears pooling in his eyes. He couldn't get up, couldn’t get back to sleep, couldn’t even call out to ask for help.

It had been a while since he’d had a day like this, when just the thought of getting out of bed made him sick,

They’d used to be more frequent, back when Virgil was alone and shut out, hated and scorned by the people he just wanted to protect. The resentment took its toll, and sometimes he couldn’t find a reason to get out of bed.

It wasn’t supposed to happen anymore. He was supposed to be over this. He was supposed to be better.

He had everything he’d ever wanted. He had his family, Thomas listened to him, and he wasn’t just needed- he was wanted.

He was wanted. He knew he was. Sometimes it was just...hard to convince himself of that, despite the overwhelming amount of kindness he’d been given for months now, the reassurances and patient understanding that felt too good to be true.

But now here he was again, unmoving in the dark of his own room, closed off like the brooding villain he was trying so hard not to be anymore.

God, he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be anywhere. He didn’t want to be awake, he didn’t want to go back to sleep, and he didn’t want to get up and go downstairs.

He just...didn’t want to do this anymore.

Why couldn’t he just disappear?

Virgil thought he could hear voices downstairs, but nothing was really registering through the fog settling around his head. His room was pitch dark, the curtains pulled tightly shut, leaving it impossible to tell how much time had passed.

He thought it might have been a few hours by now, and he hoped everyone would just continue on with their day and leave him here forever, trapped in his own body with a brain stuck trying to sabotage his happiness. He’d fade away on his own, and they’d forget about him, never bothering to even question his absence.

Virgil knew better than to really believe that. A year ago he could have gotten away with it, he could lock himself up in the dark for days and nobody would care. They’d probably celebrate.

Now...now they would notice he wasn’t coming down for breakfast. He had a job to do, he had people who actually cared. Virgil couldn’t just lay here, pathetic and useless. He was letting himself waste away and fail everyone who had taken a chance on him. They’d given him so much. He couldn’t undo all that progress because he was feeling a little sad.

But he couldn’t get up. He couldn’t. It would be so much easier if he could just die.

Virgil still wasn’t sure how much time had passed, laying there wide awake without the energy to move a single inch, but suddenly a knock on the door sliced through the haze around his brain.

More tears gathered in his eyes, frustration and dread making his chest unbearably heavy. He didn’t want to be ridiculed and yelled at right now. He wasn’t ready to be forced out of bed, selfish as it was to want to stay here.

A few seconds passed before the door creaked open, light spilling in from the hall, the faint smell of coffee wafting into the room.

“Virgil?”

That was Logan, even though Virgil couldn’t bring himself to turn his head to look. The logical side’s voice was comforting and familiar, but he wasn’t sure he could handle his blunt judgment right now.

He’d think Virgil was ridiculous, his refusal to leave his room illogical and stupidly selfish. He’d made everyone worry for nothing. Anxiety was just being lazy again.

“Virgil, it’s almost eleven,” Logan said, and Virgil kind of wished he could just die right here and now. Death would get him out of being lectured. “You need to wake up and eat something. You missed breakfast.”

Virgil still couldn’t move, but his breath caught in his throat at the reminder. He knew he was being stupid, and he knew he was behind schedule, but the thought of food just made him feel nauseous.

He heard footsteps, carefully tracking Logan’s movements as he came closer and listened as he carefully set down what was probably a mug of coffee on the dresser.

“Virgil?” he called, and it was getting harder and harder to see as more tears built up. “Are you awake?”

Virgil still couldn’t bring himself to answer, even as Logan moved around to the side of the bed. Virgil didn’t glance up to his face, but there was no way Logan couldn’t tell that the anxious side’s eyes were open and aware.

He tensed, waiting for anger and judgment, or even just an annoyed huff. He waited to be told that it was easy to get out of bed and Virgil was just being difficult, that he needed to stop being so pathetic or they had no reason to keep showing him so much kindness.

He needed to be useful, or they wouldn’t want him around anymore.

But Logan was suddenly kneeling down to his level, eyes kind and worried behind his glasses.

“Are you alright?” he asked, frowning when Virgil just clenched his jaw in response. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Virgil couldn’t force words to form no matter how badly he wanted to, and to his dismay a few tears slipped free, trailing down his jaw and seeping into the pillow.

Logan’s expression softened, but the concern in his eyes only grew. He reached forward, slow and careful, and somehow Virgil managed to move just enough to latch desperately onto his hand.

He didn’t have the energy to choke out any apologies, although he was almost certain Logan was about to demand one.

“That is alright,” the logical side said instead. “You do not have to talk. Do you think you can manage a nod or headshake?”

Virgil forced himself to respond with the tiniest of movements, even though just reaching up to take Logan’s hand had felt like running a marathon.

“Alright,” he said gently. “Are you feeling ill?”

Virgil wished he was just sick. That would be so much easier to explain. Being sick was fixable, and it wouldn’t look like he was just making excuses to be lazy.

But he didn’t see the point in lying, and he certainly didn’t have the energy to deal with even more anger if he was found out. He managed a small shake of his head, even as Logan reached up with his free hand to carefully feel his forehead. He had to force himself not to lean into the touch.

“Are you in pain?”

Yes. Everything hurt so bad and he wanted it to stop. His chest felt like someone was sitting on it, his head felt like something was pounding at the back of his skull, and every bone in his body felt heavy and useless.

But he couldn’t say that, because he knew it was all in his head. It wasn’t real.

He shook his head again, choking on a small sob, and something like realization dawned in the other side’s eyes.

“I see,” Logan said. “Is this...just a bad day, then?”

Logan had finally figured it out, because of course he had. Virgil being stupid and useless probably wasn’t a difficult conclusion to come to, anyway.

He nodded, tense and staring at nothing as he waited for Logan to rip his hand away and demand Virgil grow up and stop wasting everyone’s time. Or maybe he’d just roll his eyes and leave, closing the door and locking Anxiety back in the dark where he belonged.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Logan said, and to Virgil’s surprise his hold only tightened. “Are you able to get out of bed?”

More tears welled up at the question, dread rising in his chest. Because he couldn’t imagine even standing up right now, but of course he couldn’t expect to be able to get away with that. Logan was being polite about it, but they had a schedule to stick to.

“It’s alright if the answer is no,” Logan continued. “I have no intention of forcing you. I only thought it might be easier to take care of you today if you’re set up on the couch.”

Wait...what? Take care of him?

Logan seemed to sense his confusion, and the hand that wasn’t currently being held hostage moved to run gently through his hair, smiling sadly at Virgil’s barely audible whimper.

“If you’re more comfortable here you can stay. But I know being left alone with your thoughts is not always...ideal. We can keep you company in the living room if you like. If you’re overstimulated, the lights will be kept dim, and the noise to a minimum.”

Virgil hesitated, trying to figure out if Logan was joking- or if this was some kind of cruel trick to teach him a lesson. They didn’t need to do anything. He didn’t deserve it. And he wasn’t sick, he was just being a baby.

Logan was suddenly cupping Virgil’s cheek, wiping tears away with his thumb. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, Virgil. Would you like help sitting up?”

And Virgil felt ridiculous, because he had no real reason to feel so weighed down, but he gave another timid nod.

Logan didn’t even hesitate before moving to help, a steadying hand against Virgil’s back as he guided him up to lean against the headboard. He didn’t complain, didn’t lecture Virgil about how inconsiderate he was being, just silently assisted and pulled away when he was done.

Again Virgil wanted to apologize, but the words got stuck in his throat, buried deep beneath the fatigue.

“There is no need for an apology,” Logan said, and Virgil wondered when he’d become so predictable. “If you aren’t able to walk, I’m sure Roman would be more than happy to carry you to the couch. I only need your permission to inform him and Patton of what is happening.”

Virgil wasn’t sick or injured, he was competent enough to get himself out of bed and down the stairs. People were busy, and he was already being awful by forcing Logan to stay.

But just the thought of getting out of bed and walking out of his room was enough to make him want to bury himself under the covers and dissolve into sobs. He curled in on himself and eyed Logan warily, hoping that was enough of an answer.

“Alright,” Logan said, squeezing Virgil’s hand. “I’ll go get him, just wait here a moment.”

Logan squeezed Virgil’s hand, and he’d known the logical side long enough to know the smile he sent was nothing but genuine.

Virgil felt cold when Logan pulled his hand away and moved off the bed, but being unable to talk meant he couldn’t call him back as he disappeared through the door.

He let out a shaky breath and pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He squeezed teary eyes shut as he rested his chin on his knees.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before Virgil heard footsteps in the hallway, his bedroom door creaking open as the creative side cautiously stepped inside the doorway with a small frown.

Virgil tensed, because if anyone was going to make fun of him for this it would be Roman- well meaning but so brash and over the top at times- and he could already picture Roman’s mocking laughter, his exasperation as he tried to just drag Virgil out of bed, his—

“Hey there,” Roman called, softer than Virgil could ever remember him sounding. “Feeling under the weather today, Stormcloud?”

Virgil shrugged, hunching his shoulders and staring at his own hands. From the look in the Prince’s eyes, it was clear he understood.

“That’s ok,” he said, ducking his head to meet Virgil’s eyes as he smiled and made his way to the bed. “Bad days happen, Doom and Gloom. You just have to ask for help.”

Virgil let out a pitiful whine, the closest he could get to telling Roman that he couldn’t. Even if he could, he didn’t know how. He’d never been able to ask for help before. The Prince’s smile turned sad, and he slowly lowered himself on the bed beside Virgil.

“I know,” Roman said, and Virgil watched as he opened his arms in a quiet invitation, looking so ridiculously hopeful. “But we’re here now.”

Virgil broke. What little walls he’d still been holding up crumbling at the Prince’s simple words, and he choked on a sob, vision blurring with the tears he finally allowed to fall. He collapsed forward into Roman’s chest, shuddering when strong arms wrapped around and pulled him close.

Roman didn’t speak, and he didn't force Virgil to even try, just held him tight and rocked them both on the edge of the bed, the Prince’s chin hooked over Virgil’s head, almost cocooning him in safety.

Roman held him, strong but gentle all the same, letting Virgil cry into the Prince’s shirt as long as he needed, hushing him through violent sobs. He didn’t rush him, didn’t tease or berate him, just kept him close and safe.

“I’m here,” he said when Virgil had quieted down a bit. “Is it ok if I take you downstairs now? Logan and Pat are worried about you.”

Virgil nodded with his face still buried in Roman’s chest, breath catching in his throat when the Prince carefully maneuvered them both towards the end of the bed. He kept one arm wrapped firmly around Virgil’s back, the other hooking under his knees.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered when Virgil clutched desperately at the back of his shirt, squeezing his eyes shut as Roman stood from the bed, Virgil secure in his hold. “We’ve all got you, Virge.”

Virgil kept his eyes closed, breaths coming out as nothing more than pitiful, hiccuping sobs. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to talk to anyone, look at anyone, or be seen by anyone. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to exist today.

But Roman’s embrace made him forget that for just a moment. The memory of Logan’s comfort and the promise of Patton’s care made it just a little more bearable.

It was all a blur, Virgil barely able to focus on the world around him, overwhelmed and so so exhausted. The curtains in the living room were drawn, keeping the room comfortably dim, and Patton and Logan moved quietly, keeping everything blissfully peaceful.

Roman set him down on the couch, letting Virgil curl up on his side and pull the nearest blanket over him, taking a moment to run his fingers through the anxious side’s hair.

Patton kneeled beside him, searching his watery eyes for silent permission before leaning in to kiss Virgil’s forehead with a soft smile.

“Hey kiddo,” he said, just as loving as Logan and Roman had been. “You want your old dad to make you some hot chocolate?”

Virgil blinked, not sure how to respond to that. It sounded nice, but...but he was already convincing them enough. They were all busy, and probably annoyed and—

“It’s not an issue, honey,” Patton assured, like he could sense Virgil’s internal panic. “We didn’t have much planned for today. You can relax.”

He had his suspicions that Logan had actually just changed their schedule in favor of keeping an eye on Virgil while he rested, but he wasn’t exactly in the place to ask questions, as panicked as the thought made him. He’d make it up to them tomorrow.

Virgil couldn’t quite look Patton in the eyes, but the parental side seemed so eager to help, and...hot chocolate didn’t sound terrible. He gave a hesitant nod, chest loosening a bit at the way Patton positively beamed.

Patton hurried into the kitchen, only to come back less than five minutes later with the biggest mug Virgil had ever seen, overflowing with marshmallows and whipped cream. Roman perched on the arm of the couch, close enough to keep running his fingers through Virgil’s hair.

“Just rest, Virgil,” Logan said, smiling when Virgil took his hot chocolate with unsteady hands. “We can put on a movie if you like. Or we can leave you alone if you’re overwhelmed.”

Virgil bit his lip, a few stray tears still running down his cheeks and dripping onto the couch. It was a bad day, not his first and definitely not his last but it wasn’t the worst he’d ever had. It was already getting a little better.

He took a steady breath, raising his head to meet Logan’s eyes, mustering what little energy he had to force his voice to work again, the words small, breathy and ragged, but clear all the same.

“Stay? Please?”

Logan smiled, Roman scooted closer, and Patton gave Virgil’s forehead another kiss. They gathered around him on the couch, similar to how they usually ended up after a bad panic attack.

Roman and Logan ended up on either side of him, while Patton let Virgil put down his mug for a second to wrap his arms around the moral side’s waist, relishing in the warmth of one of Patton’s hugs.

There had been more days like this than Virgil could count, everything weighing down on him until he just wanted to disappear. He’d never...had this before. He’d always been alone, locking himself away until he could face his own existence again.

This time his family was on all sides, Patton holding him tightly, Logan taking his hand, Roman still playing with his hair, reminding him that it would be ok soon. He had a reason to fight through it.

Virgil couldn’t bring himself to thank them, not out loud again, but he knew they understood.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #depression tw #nonverbal tw #crying tw #fanficiton #writing

[averykedavra]

wherever we are (it feels like home)

Good evening, I am exhausted and here is a fic for my friend @rain-bound because Rain asked for prinxiety and I decided to deliver, three weeks later, at ten at night. Enjoy this self-indulgent hurt/comfort, because I’m about to collapse into bed and sleep for seventy years. You’re the best, Rain <3

(Title from End of the Earth by MARINA. This fic is on Ao3 here!)

Words: 8463

Pairing: Romantic Prinxiety

Warnings: lots of angst for both Virgil and Roman, mentions of the other Sides but they don’t appear, self-deprecation, anxiety and borderline panic attacks, self-hatred, identity issues, crying, and kissing

Three days.

That’s how long it took for Virgil to mess it all up. Three freaking days.

Honestly, he wasn’t even that surprised--if there was one thing he was good at, it was messing stuff up. Thomas had the chance of a lifetime. The person of a lifetime. Virgil had done something good, something brave, and now Thomas had a date.

It was too good to be true.

So he’d messed it up.

They’d been texting, and Thomas had sent a text where the tone was way off--like, way off, like Nico-probably-hated-them-off, and yeah, it was a bit hasty to say that after one text but--but then Thomas tried to apologize and hit send before he was done--and then Nico called them--and Thomas couldn’t talk on the phone, he’d sound stupid and what would he say and no--

Virgil made Thomas deny the call.

The call from Nico. Who knew they had their phone with them. Who knew they weren’t busy.

When Thomas stopped the ringing, a deafening silence filled the room.

He hadn’t even called Nico back--Logan said something about calming down, which was fair, because Virgil was hyperventilating in the corner. Logan counted with him. Logan steadied him.

Logan said it was okay. That one mistake, especially one so small, wouldn’t jeopardize everything. Logan said that things wouldn’t always be so fragile. They’d fall into a rhythm. And for now, they’d fix things.

Virgil tried to breathe. Tried to believe him.

And still knew he’d come so terrifying close to losing everything.

It was so easy. That’s what they’d all learned that day. If Virgil messed up, just a bit, their relationship went down the drain. It wasn’t the point that things got fixed, that Thomas apologized and everyone moved on--that didn’t replace how delicate things were, how everyone was newly aware that this whole thing could shatter if Virgil stepped wrong.

If any of them stepped wrong. But Virgil, it was obvious, was the weak link.

Virgil was going to ruin this.

Of course you’re not, Patton said. Patton said it wasn’t his fault, that they’d all panicked. Patton said he was doing great.

That’s illogical, Logan said. Logan said anyone could have made the same mistake. Logan said Virgil had helped so much already.

Janus hadn’t said anything--Janus had been hanging around a bunch recently, which Virgil wasn’t really on board with, though he hadn’t given Virgil an excuse to yell at him yet--but he’d given Virgil a slow nod.

Thanks, Thomas said when everything was said and done that afternoon. Always keeping me on my toes, Virgil. I appreciate it.

And that would have been enough. It would have been way more than enough.

But there was Roman.

Roman, who was already infatuated with Nico. Roman, who grabbed Virgil’s hands and spun him around that first day, laughing, smiling so much that Virgil’s heart could have burst. Roman, who’d said this is it, called it their newest chance at happiness, and told Virgil he was brave.

Roman cared so deeply about this. He’d been so quiet recently, so hesitant, and it made Virgil burn with a worry he didn’t recognize. The kind of worry, the kind of care, that made Virgil warm and energized and terrified for someone other than himself.

He didn’t really know what that meant. He’d probably be able to figure it out if he thought about it. He decided not to think about it.

Roman. That was all he needed to know. Roman.

Roman, who had ignored him all day, who had picked at his food and not spoken to anyone, who had flinched when Virgil said his name before mumbling something and excusing himself.

Roman, who was upset with him.

That realization made Virgil feel like he was breathing in shards of glass. He’d retreated to his room, done some breathing exercises, and tried to think through it. Roman was mad about what had happened, Virgil knew it--maybe he thought Virgil didn’t care as much as he did. Which was so wrong. Virgil cared just as much as Roman did, because Roman did.

Maybe he thought Virgil did it on purpose. Maybe he was just angry that another chance could be wasted because Virgil couldn’t stop messing everything up.

Virgil was terrified.

Virgil was worried.

Virgil was worried that Roman was not okay. Against all his better judgment, he wanted to ask Roman how Roman felt.

And Virgil was terrified to confirm that Roman hated him--terrified he might make things worse--terrified to see Roman would turn him away--because anyone’s scorn would hurt him but Roman--Roman. Virgil couldn’t think of anything worse than Roman being upset with him.

Well, actually, he could.

Roman being upset.

Roman was upset. And even though Virgil was scared, that didn’t matter right now, because Virgil needed to do something.

That something was apologize. Virgil needed to apologize. And Roman could do whatever afterwards. Virgil’d be fine with Roman hating him afterwards as long as Roman knew he was sorry.

Maybe that’d help. Maybe that wouldn’t. Maybe Virgil didn’t care, because he was done standing by.

Roman had called him brave.

He was going to be brave.

That night, after everyone was asleep or doing a good enough job of pretending to be, Virgil crept down the hall to Roman’s room.

He should have come earlier. Roman was probably asleep, too. But Virgil was nocturnal by this point, and he’d only just managed to work up the courage, and he’d lose it again if he waited a second longer.

Okay, he was already losing his courage. He could feel it slipping away, replaced by panic-anxiety-fear-worry that made him dig his hands deeper into his pockets and take a few strangled breaths. This was fine. This was fine! He would check up on Roman, apologize, and hopefully not be told that he was a terrible friend. Yeah. Yeah!

“Yeah,” Virgil told himself, his voice sounding off in the darkened hallway. “Knock. Come on.”

Slowly, he forced one hand out of his hoodie and balled it in a fist. He took another deep breath. It made his head spin.

This was a terrible idea.

But he was going to be brave right now, and he was going to check on Roman, and--and whatever was going to happen would happen. Nothing he could do about it.

Virgil held his breath and knocked once.

He tried to keep it to a gentle tap--’cause maybe he’d have plausible deniability, say he bumped the door while going to bed, and maybe Roman wouldn’t hear it at all and Virgil could just go back to his room and pretend everything was fine--but Virgil swore the sound echoed three times around the hallway. He pressed himself into the shadows and waited for someone’s door to open. Nobody came to check on him. They were all asleep.

Like Roman probably was. And now Virgil was going to disturb him, wake him up, and Roman always complained about losing beauty sleep--what was Virgil doing--

Helping a friend.

Virgil knocked again, louder, and resisted the strong impulse to curl into a ball and hide.

There was a long, dark, silence.

Virgil could run. He could just--he could just run, bolt for his room, and say it was a prank from Remus if anyone asked--

“Who is it?”

Virgil’s breath caught. Roman’s voice was sleepy but sharp, and he heard Roman walk towards the door. The knob turned.

Run.

This was Roman. Roman was fine. Roman was safe--Virgil knew he was safe. Roman wouldn’t hurt him.

Virgil stayed still.

The door cracked open. “Hello?”

“Hi,” Virgil forced out.

Roman’s head peeked around the door. He had a severe case of bedhead, with hair flopping over his eyes and pushed up at the back like he’d run his fingers through it. Virgil found that ridiculously adorable.

“Virgil!” Roman said, and for a second, he seemed about to smile. Then it faded. Then it was just Roman, blinking tiredly at Virgil with bags under his eyes, his mouth drawn in a thin line. “What do you need?”

“I, um--” Virgil had prepared a quick speech for this. He couldn’t remember a word of it. It--it included the word ‘and,’ right? Definitely ‘and.’ Maybe ‘but,’ too. “I--I know it’s really late, and I’m sorry, but--” There! Nailed it. “But I need to talk to you.”

“Hmm?” Roman seemed to shake himself all the way awake. His mouth drew tighter. “Talk about what?’

Virgil hesitated. “Nico.”

“Nico,” Roman repeated. “Nico?”

“Nico,” Virgil agreed. He probably sounded so stupid, just parroting Roman, but he couldn’t think of what else to say. “So can I--is this a good time--of course it’s not, you’re asleep, but--”

“I--actually, I was awake, it’s alright.” Roman pulled the door a little wider. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

Virgil nodded, swallowed, and let Roman lead the way into his room.

The only lights were a string of fairy lights and a lamp by the desk. They cast a dim golden glow over the room, leaving the red as ashy shadows and the white as creamy dust. Virgil stumbled over something on the floor, and when he looked down, he saw several piles of clothes and bits of paper strewn across the floorboards. The carpet was kicked to the side. Virgil straightened it automatically, and saw a stain in one corner, and a worn patch that dragged over the boards in a way that suggested it was a few days from falling apart.

Outside the window, Roman had chosen a city skyline--dots of white and red filling the sky, lights strung along the buildings like square beads, airplanes blinking their way from place to place. If Virgil breathed in deep, he could smell Roman in this room, like always. Roman smelled like fresh paper. Like rose petals. Like cinnamon. Like something warm and cozy, and Virgil could never get enough of it.

Roman gave Virgil a strange look, and Virgil frantically tried to look like he hadn’t just been smelling Roman’s room like a total creep.

“Sit down, if you’d like,” Roman said, collapsing onto the bed and kicking his legs onto the pillows. Virgil hesitantly perched on the desk chair. Several notebooks spilled across the desk itself, and Virgil quickly looked away. It felt weird to see Roman’s stuff like this--it always did.

Virgil loved Roman’s room, but it wasn’t where he belonged. It was Roman’s space. Virgil was just a visitor--an intruder--an unwelcome guest who ruined the smell of parchment and clashed with the red on the walls.

Virgil loved Roman’s room, but Roman’s room didn’t love him back.

“So,” Roman said, and Virgil realized Roman had been watching him. In the shadows, Virgil couldn’t pick out Roman’s expression--and that set him on edge in a way he didn’t expect, because he knew Roman, and he’d at least banked on being able to read him. Now? Roman could be angry. Roman could be tired. Roman could be any number of things, and Virgil couldn’t tell.

Virgil took a deep breath for like the twentieth time that night and tried really, really hard not to panic.

Roman’s room did make it easier. It was relaxing that way. Maybe it was a thing like Virgil’s room making people more anxious, a side effect of Roman’s power. Maybe it was just because it was Roman’s. Either way, Virgil found that if he tried--if he really tried, and didn’t think about anything except, like, cupcakes--he could avoid entirely breaking down.

Great. Now he had to actually talk.

“So,” Virgil said, an embarrassingly long time after Roman had spoken, but too late to worry about that now. “Um--Nico?”

“Yep, we’ve...we’ve established that one, stormcloud,” Roman said, a touch of fondness in his voice. “We’ve made that clear. Next we go into details.”

“Details. Yeah.” Virgil nodded way too fast. “Cool. So--um.”

“Are you going to talk, or…” Roman laughed a bit. It was a short, sharp laugh, but it was soft enough to make Virgil relax a bit. “It’s okay if you don’t, but I did figure you called this little meeting for a reason, emo.”

“I did,” Virgil protested. “I just--ugh, I don’t know where to start, I--” He looked around. “Um--how are you?”

“What?” Roman was quiet for a second. “I’m...quite princely and glittery, as usual, why do you ask?”

“You--you sure?” Virgil scuffed his toe into the carpet. If Roman wasn’t okay, that was something to talk about--that was maybe a reason he’d avoided Virgil that wasn’t anger--and Virgil was such a coward. Why’d Roman ever call him brave? “Your, um--your room’s a bit of a mess.”

“I suppose I must admit that,” Roman agreed, sitting up and giving the floor a betrayed look. “I’ve been so wrapped up in projects that I’ve hardly had time to clean up.”

“You could have asked one of us,” Virgil said. “I could have, y’know, swept the place a bit. Cleaning’s, like, relaxing for me. I know you don’t really like people in your room, though.”

Roman’s eyebrows came together. “Who told you that?”

“No one?” Virgil blinked. “I just--I mean, I guess I just assumed--”

A sinking feeling in his stomach told him that of course Roman liked other people in his room. He just didn’t like Virgil.

“Forget it,” Virgil mumbled. “Just--yeah.”

He could feel that Roman was watching him. He curled into his hoodie and wondered if he tried hard enough, he could get swallowed up by the shadows.

This was a disaster.

And it could have been better--he’d know what to say if this was Logan, or Patton, or even Janus--but this was Roman. Roman. Roman, who was--he was--

Ugh.

“We need to talk,” Virgil blurted out. Maybe if he said it enough, he’d believe it. They needed to talk. To get this over with. Even if it hurt. “I--I’m really nervous about this, ‘cause obviously, but--” Why’d he say that? To get pity points? Now Roman would be forced to feel bad for him. “--but it’s not a big deal--I mean, it is, but--”

“Virgil.”

Virgil jerked his head up. Roman had turned on another lamp. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, expression achingly soft.

“What?” Virgil asked, all his haunches raised, all his guards up.

“If you’re not ready, we don’t have to do this.” Roman swallowed. “I know it’s--it’s an emotional conversation, and if you would rather Patton or Logan be here--or if you’d like to wait?”

Virgil could wait.

But Virgil needed to--

“We need to talk now,” Virgil said. “I--I won’t have the guts to do it otherwise, I’m sorry--”

“Alright,” Roman said. Virgil thought he saw Roman sink a bit, though. “That works. Take your time, okay? Keep breathing.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. He tried not to feel optimistic about the fact that Roman cared enough to keep him from panicking. Roman could care about him and still be mad--or Roman could just want Virgil to be calm enough for the conversation to happen all at once. Which didn’t really make sense, but Virgil wasn’t about to hope, wasn’t about to try and erase the past days of Roman being upset with him.

With Roman being upset.

If this made Roman feel better, it was worth it.

“So,” Virgil said. And told himself this time--finally--he’d get it right. “We want to talk about Nico?”

“Nico,” Roman agreed, something soft and sad crossing his face.

“He’s--” Virgil fought for words. “He’s--he’s so good, yeah? He’s great. Thomas really likes him, and so do I--I really like him, Roman.”

“I know,” Roman said. Softly. Too softly, and Virgil was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “He’s wonderful.”

“Yeah!” Virgil said. Loudly. Too loudly. His voice echoed through Roman’s room--and he noticed that, unlike all the other times he’d been here, there wasn’t any music playing.

Okay, yeah, it was late. But--it made Virgil’s heart clench a bit, it made his hands jam further into his pockets, and it made him kick at the floor with more vehemence. It was another thing that was wrong--piled onto everything else, onto the shadows and the crumpled papers and everything from the door to the windows. Everything was wrong. Was it wrong because Virgil was there, messing it up? Or had something been wrong from the start?

Patches of light, gold and white and red, skidded over Virgil’s jacket. From the window, from the lamps, from the fairy lights high above. They bled through the purple patches and turned them an ugly shade of brown.

“Nico’s great,” said Virgil, slowly, quietly. Like he didn’t want to disrupt something. “And--and Thomas messed up a bit, the other day.”

I messed up, he didn’t finish with. Roman would know.

“He did,” Roman said, voice tight.

“And that’s--I think that’s maybe a sign that--” Virgil waved a hand, felt self-conscious about said hand existing, and shoved it back into his hoodie. “Look, I like Nico. So much. And I really think we can do this if we try--I mean, I hope so, I really hope so--”

“We can,” Roman interrupted. “We have to make this work.”

“Right. Yeah.” Virgil took a breath. “So--”

“So we’ll work harder.” Roman waved a hand at Virgil. “We’re--we can do this, we’re ready, if Thomas is ready than we’re ready! All of us!”

“I’m not saying we’re not ready,” Virgil said. “I’m saying we need to be careful.”

The brief passion in Roman’s eyes faded again. “I know.”

“So--so--” Virgil tried to force himself to stick words together. He should apologize. He should say sorry and let Roman figure out what to do next, but it was shadowy and cold and smelling of red paint and parchment and Virgil was lost.

“I know,” Roman said again. He sounded tired. It was late--and he’d been awake--and he sounded exhausted--and he hadn’t been planning to sleep, he’d said he had trouble sleeping--and Virgil felt like he was grasping at puzzle pieces, trying to pull the shadows and lights into something coherent. He felt vaguely dizzy. His stomach churned. Maybe it was Roman’s room making him see all these dots to connect, filling him with the worst kind of imagination.

“It’ll be okay,” Virgil said. To Roman? To himself? To someone, anyway.

Roman curled into himself, just a bit. “I don’t know.”

Virgil swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah, actually. I--me neither.”

A long silence. Imaginary airplanes skidded over the skyline, and Virgil wished he could go on one of them, fly far away from here. And take Roman, if he was willing--take Roman and steal him away from all this and keep him happy and safe--they could both be safe. And they could see the world.

“So,” Virgil said, slowly, for the seventh or eighth time, like that’d drag the conversation to its conclusion. “I know you’ve been avoiding us--”

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” Roman interrupted. Too fast. Too vehement. Roman was definitely lying, and Virgil hated how bad that made him feel.

“I know you have,” Virgil said, hating even more the defensive edge his voice gained. “I know you’ve been avoiding me, and--and if you’re cool with that, I’m cool with that, but--”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Roman lied again. Barely trying this time, like he didn’t care if Virgil saw through it. “I’ve just been a bit wrapped up in projects, Stormy Knight, I promise it wasn’t--”

“Princey, c’mon.” Something about the familiar nickname gave Virgil courage. “I don’t mind. I get it! It’s...it’s justified, it was all a mess a few days ago, it’s--if I’m being honest, it’s been a mess this whole time, and--and you can take as much time as you need to figure stuff out on your end. Or--or maybe there’s nothing to figure out, maybe it’s not like that, but--” Virgil was rambling again. He knotted his hands together and focused on the texture of his jacket. “Maybe you--maybe you’ve already made up your mind, maybe this can’t really be fixed, but--”

Everything was a mess. Everything was coming out all wrong and Virgil needed to say something that made sense. His head was spinning with lights and shadows and the smell of roses. He was sure he was tilting forward in the chair. It was late at night. He was running on adrenaline and guilt. He was trying and he didn’t know if Roman got it--if Roman understood that Virgil was sorry, that Virgil would try to be better, and that Roman could be angry as long as he liked, but Virgil was here for him and didn’t want him to be upset--

There! There was what to say! So why couldn’t Virgil say it out loud?

“I’m--this is coming out wrong,” Virgil blurted out. “I’m really not making any sense, am I?”

“I think I’ve put the bigger pieces together,” Roman said.

“Which pieces?”

Roman gave Virgil a sharp look and Virgil wilted. The look softened.

“I can tell you what I’ve got so far,” Roman suggested. “How about that? And then, if I’ve got it wrong, you can correct me. I can ask questions if I’m confused. Does that work?”

Virgil almost collapsed with relief. Yeah. He could do that.

“Sure,” he said. “Shoot, Princey.”

“You’re talking about what happened a few days ago,” Roman said. “When Thomas made a bit of a mistake with Nico. And--and in general, all the bumps we’ve had in the road here, you know? It hasn’t exactly been the smoothest of rides.”

“It hasn’t,” Virgil admitted. “And yeah, that’s--what I was talking about.”

“Good!” Roman looked almost pleased with himself, and Virgil suppressed a smile. “So--we have to work from here, right? We have to figure out--you know, who’s helping and who’s not, and how we can work together. And make sure we’re all clear about--” Something passed over his face. “Who’s not necessarily meant to play a huge role, if we want this to work.”

Virgil balled his fists. “Yeah.”

“We both care about Thomas,” Roman said, a sad smile crossing his face. “I’m sorry that I’ve been avoiding you. I’ve merely been thinking things through a bit. Nico’s so wonderful, and Thomas deserves him, and it’ll take work for this to become something real.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said numbly.

“So we need to start figuring stuff out on our own ends, and finding out who’s helpful with that and who’s detrimental.” The lights played off Roman’s face as he leaned onto his knees and stared at the floor. “What mistakes can be worked with, and what mistakes are a symptom of something else--and Virgil, I’m so sorry.”

“You--” Virgil felt a strange cold streak pass through his chest, like a comet, an airplane sliding through the sky. “You’re sorry? You don’t--Princey, you don’t have to be--”

“Of course I do!” Roman burst out. “I--you tried so hard to make this happen, you put yourself out there and risked everything for him! I--I gave up, and you kept fighting, and for what? For me to--to ruin everything we’ve built? I’m sorry, I’m trying, and--and I’m really not meant for this, Virgil, I don’t think I am--”

“Meant for--” The cold feeling had spread to Virgil’s whole body now, numbing his fingers. “You’re--Roman, what--”

“I’m sorry,” Roman said again. Like that was an explanation. And his voice cracked in the middle, and it made Virgil want to cry, and he didn’t know what was happening--

“Roman,” Virgil forced out. His voice was raspy. “Roman, what are you talking about? Why are you sorry?”

“I--what?” Roman blinked at him. “Pardon? Why--why wouldn’t I be sorry?”

“Because you didn’t do anything?” Virgil’s voice pitched upwards incredulously. “What are you even saying--I came in here ‘cause you’re mad at me, I’m trying to--”

“Mad at you?” Roman repeated, and apparently it was Roman’s turn to look completely flabbergasted. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“‘Cause I messed up!” Virgil burst out. “I messed up, I almost ruined everything, I’m just so scared I’m gonna take this away from you--and you need it, you deserve it, and I’m trying to get it for you--but I’m not good at this, I’m not good--I’m really sorry, Princey--I promise I’m gonna try--”

“Virgil,” Roman said quietly, and for some reason that made Virgil stop talking immediately. “You--what?”

“I came in here to say sorry,” Virgil said, probably sounding pathetic, but he was confused and tired and three seconds from crying. “I--I’m sorry. There. I don’t know why--why it took me so long to say it.”

“You’re sorry--” Roman looked completely bewildered, but there was concern in there--aching concern that made the lump in Virgil’s throat grow bigger. “You’re sorry--Virgil, I promise you’ve done nothing wrong! I’m not mad at you!”

“You--” Virgil repeated the words in his head. No way he’d just heard that. “You--aren’t?”

“No!” And now Roman looked seriously upset. “You thought I was--Virgil, you’ve done wonderfully during all this, you’re an absolute star, I still can’t believe you made this happen--except I can, quite honestly, I always knew you had it in you--”

Virgil stared at him, mouth open.

“I’m not mad at you,” Roman finished, his voice almost pleading. “I promise. You don’t have to apologize to me.”

“Oh,” Virgil forced out. It didn’t cover anything. It didn’t cover the way he wanted to cry, or laugh, or hug Roman tight and bury his face in Roman’s shoulder and--

“Oh,” Virgil said again.

“You’re doing so good,” Roman whispered. “I’m proud of you.”

“Oh,” Virgil said. A third time. Because he was going to cry.

Roman gave him a soft smile. “You’re my hero.”

And okay--okay, Roman couldn’t just--he couldn’t just--

Before Virgil could stop himself, he raced over to Roman and tackled him in a hug.

Roman made a surprised noise that turned into a coo as he reached up and steadied Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil tightened his grip around Roman and considered burying his head in Roman’s shoulder, like he’d dreamed of--Roman was so solid, and smelled really nice, and maybe Virgil could just fall asleep here, spend the night in Roman’s room and not worry about anything else--

“You alright over there, emo nightmare?” Roman asked, his voice rumbling in Virgil’s chest. “Anything you need?”

And, oh yeah, this was Roman. Virgil had just tackle-hugged Roman.

Virgil quickly pushed himself out of Roman’s arms, falling into a heap on the bed next to him.

“Whoa, hey, where’s the fire?” Roman laughed, but his eyes were still wide with concern. “Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Yes. No. More than ever. It’s never been and Virgil wouldn’t know how to handle it if it was.

“You--” Virgil had something he wanted to say. Besides the sorry. Because--because Roman--

“Me,” Roman agreed, giving Virgil a dorky little smile.

And, okay, not fair, now Virgil was distracted by cute. Virgil swatted at him and hissed, and Roman laughed a bit. It was great. It was normal. It was--

It was too normal.

It was the kind of normal Virgil didn’t trust. ‘Cause a minute ago, they’d been staring at each other and Roman had been--

Apologizing.

Hold on.

“Roman,” Virgil said slowly. “What was all that about?”

“What?” Roman blinked at him. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, lightning bug.”

Virgil fought a flush at the nickname. He swore Roman was doing that on purpose--trying to distract him, turn this on Virgil, but Virgil wasn’t going to lose track of things again. Virgil was going to actually, like, talk about things.

Virgil was such a mess.

Especially late at night, especially while upset, and this was just a cocktail of terrible ideas. And who knew what was going on with Roman? Who knew if Roman was really not okay or if he was fine and Virgil was reading too much into things or--

Only one to find out, though, right?

Bravery.

Virgil looked at Roman. “I’m worried about you.”

There. There it really was. And honestly--under all the guilt, the panic, the self-doubt--this was what Virgil had wanted to say, all along.

Roman, for his part, looked like Virgil had struck him in the face. It took him a few tries to speak. “And may I ask why?”

“You were, like, apologizing earlier,” Virgil said. “You were saying--like, like you thought I was here to yell at you, to say you did something wrong--and I don’t even get that, like what the heck have you done--”

“What haven’t I done?” Roman fired back, and Virgil would mistake it for teasing if it weren’t for the tightness in his mouth and the way he inched away from Virgil on the bed.

“You’ve--you’re Thomas’ romantic side,” Virgil said. “You’re the reason he likes Nico, you’re the one who’s making this work, it’s all you--”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Roman snapped.

Virgil hated the way he flinched.

“I--” Roman looked instantly regretful. “I didn’t mean to yell, I just--”

“It’s fine,” Virgil said. And he took a deep breath. And it was. “I’m saying you’re important. You’re valuable.”

“I know,” Roman said.

“You’re the reason this is happening!”

“I know.”

“Without you, it doesn’t work--”

“I know.”

“We can’t do this without you!”

“Well, maybe you should!”

Virgil flinched again. But not because Roman was too loud--and it was so much better with Roman, it wasn’t perfect and maybe not even that great but it was better, Virgil could take a breath and move forward--but because of Roman’s face. Twisted. Tight. Eyes sparkling in the lights, fists balled on his pajamas, and the way he tried to smile when Virgil looked. He tried to--to smile.

Virgil hated that. So much.

“Roman,” Virgil said, as softly as he could. “We...we need you, we--”

“Yeah, and I’ve been doing a swell job of helping you guys,” Roman said, and that was bitterness, that was a shade of bitter that Virgil had never heard in his life. He hated that, too. “I appreciate the sentiment, Virgil, but I also have to recognize that I’ve hardly been the best at helping Thomas recently--”

“I need you, then.” Virgil didn’t know where the words were coming from. “You know what? Screw Thomas. I’m not talking about him. I need you. I can’t--I’m doing all this for you, Roman. You get that, right? I--you want this, you want this so badly, and so I’m trying to make this happen.” Virgil let out a little laugh that could have been a sob. “And I’m failing. And I’m getting stuck. ‘Cause it’s me. But Roman--Roman, if you need me to, I will keep trying. I will do as much as you need me to.” Virgil choked on something that was definitely a sob. “Because you deserve something good right now. You deserve to be happy.”

Roman was staring at Virgil. Roman was staring and something in him was trembling. Shaking. Coming apart in the shadows and slipping away in the lights.

“And I’m sorry,” Virgil finished. “I’m sorry I’m not doing great at it--and I’m sorry I never told you all this, ‘cause you didn’t know--ugh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you didn’t know, I didn’t see that you--”

“Virgil,” Roman said, voice choked. “Virgil, you--you don’t have to do any of this. You know that, right? You don’t have to make this work for me--to try and be nice--to be here, right now--”

“But I want to.” Virgil shook his head. “Ro, I want to, so much--this is what I want. I want to help. And you...you need help right now.”

Roman flinched a bit, just enough for Virgil to notice. “I don’t--can’t we wait until morning? I’m always incoherent at night, this is all a bit of a melodramatic moment--”

“Nope,” Virgil said firmly. “We’re not gonna dance around this one, okay? I’ve done enough of that. You’re not--you’re so not okay, and I get the feeling I’m only seeing, like, one quarter of it. And you don’t have to hide that.”

Roman was quiet. His eyes followed the seams of the quilt.

“Hey. Look at me.” Virgil hesitantly placed a hand on Roman’s. “It’s okay. I promise. Talk to me--cry, scream, whatever. But do something. We can’t have any kind of true lo--any kind of...anything. If the relationship isn’t built on truth.”

Roman looked up, slowly, and Virgil saw that his eyes were watering.

Virgil couldn’t help the little noise he made. ‘Cause Roman wasn’t meant to look like that. Like he expected Virgil to turn on him and yell. Like he was trying to disappear into the shadows before anyone could know he was there.

“I don’t--” Roman wiped at his eyes. “Virgil, I don’t know--I can’t--I’m not--”

“What aren’t you?” Virgil asked.

“I’m not what I’m supposed to be!” Roman burst out, and then he was rambling, hands flying. “I’m not productive, I’m not able to focus on anything, I never get stuff done on time--Zeus knows I’m not organized, I’m not serious enough--I’m not creative--and I’m not--I’m not good, I’m not the hero, I’m not the perfect prince and you all need me to be that but I’m not--I’m not anything!”

“Oh,” Virgil breathed, and he shook his head, over and over. “Roman, no, I promise that’s so, so wrong--”

“Then what am I?” Roman challenged, eyes sparkling and voice so brittle. He was seconds from breaking. Virgil was watching his best friend--his everything--break apart, and Virgil should have been frantic. Virgil should have been trying to put the pieces back together before everything comes crashing down.

Virgil took a deep breath.

“Roman,” he said slowly, “do you want a hug?”

“I--” Roman looked like nobody had ever asked that question in his life. “I--if you’re okay with--”

Virgil opened his arms and gave Roman a little nod.

Roman’s hug was stiff. Roman’s hug was cold. Roman’s hug would have lasted about three seconds if Virgil hadn’t wrapped an arm around Roman’s shoulders to keep him there.

“I’m okay with it,” Virgil told him, quietly. “And jeez, Princey, you’re acting like I’m holding a gun to your head. Relax.”

Roman did not relax.

“It’s okay,” Virgil said. Even softer. “It’s okay, I promise it’s okay, it’s so messed up right now but we’re gonna figure this out, I promise--”

Roman trembled, just a bit, in Virgil’s grasp. Virgil shifted slightly until he was leaned against the headboard, and Roman was crumpled in his arms.

“Stop trying to hug me,” Virgil said gently. “It’s messing everything up. I’m hugging you right now--you can hug me later, you dork.”

Roman didn’t move. Virgil carefully slipped him off Virgil’s shoulder and pulled him to his chest instead. Roman--Roman was so small, and it made Virgil wonder how Roman could be so firm and solid and still so small in his arms.

Roman’s head was tucked under Virgil’s now. Virgil had the urge to press a kiss on top of it. He settled for running a hand through Roman’s hair, enjoying the fluffy texture and detangling some of the knots. Bedhead. When was the last time Roman slept?

“I don’t know,” Roman said, when Virgil asked him. “I--I don’t know much, Virge.”

“What do you know?” Virgil asked.

“I--” Roman hesitated. “You guys. Logan likes cinnamon buns, and Patton’s favorite dog breed is a retriever, and you--you bite your nails, but you paint them on weekends sometimes, and you pretend they’re all black but there’s a bit of purple on there, it’s adorable--and you hate strawberries--and once you gave me a gift and pretended it was from Logan but I know it was you because you write your R’s all pointy--and your hair always flops over your eyes, and--”

Virgil fought back a wave of emotion. “Um--that’s great, Ro. I appreciate that. Can you--can you tell me what you know about yourself?”

Roman was silent for way too long. “Why ruin the moment?”

“Disagree,” Virgil said. “Anything? It’s okay if not, but--basic stuff. What do you like? What do you think about?”

“I dunno,” Roman mumbled. “I like Disney. But Disney’s pretty stupid.”

“Hey,” Virgil complained. “Disney’s the best. Don’t crap on your favorite company.”

“Disney’s really capitalist.”

“That’s fair,” Virgil admitted. “But--you’re allowed to like stuff, Ro.”

Roman curled up a bit in his arms.

“What do you know?” Virgil decided to say. “About you. It can be anything.”

Roman was pressed tight against Virgil’s chest. Virgil ran a hand down his side and felt Roman shudder a bit. His hands were moving, running up and down the patches on Virgil’s jacket, fingering the bumps of the seams.

“I’m Roman,” Roman finally said. He laughed a bit. Virgil didn’t.

“Good, that’s true.” Virgil nodded. “What else?”

“I’m a Side of Thomas,” Roman continued. His voice was quiet. “I’m his...his Creativity. And Passion, and all that.”

“Yep.”

“I...I work with you guys. I work on stuff. I write. It’s not good, but I write.”

“Yep!”

“I sing, I act, I--” Roman huffed. “Pretty terrible at it.”

“Gonna beg to differ on that one, Princey.” Virgil smirked. “Your singing voice is really loud, but I like it.”

Roman curled, somehow, even tighter. “I--I don’t have anything else.”

“That’s okay,” Virgil said. “Do you want me to take a turn?”

“Okay.”

“Great.” Virgil leaned back against the headboard and watched the lights flicker. “You’re Roman, like you said. You’re--you’re my best friend, dude.”

Roman shuddered, just a bit.

“You’re my best friend,” Virgil repeated. “You--at first, I never liked you, ‘cause you were just...so extra, you know? So big and grand and huge. And that--that scared me. I was so scared of you back then. And I was so envious--I wanted to be like you. To not care what anyone thought. You just...put it all out there, and you were everyone’s hero, and I’d stare at you and wonder how you managed to do it.”

Virgil laughed. “And then everything changed. And then you were my friend--or at least, I hoped so. We--got along, we got to know each other, and all the stuff I didn’t get about you? All the stuff I hated, I was afraid of? It all turned out to be the best stuff. ‘Cause it’s what made you, you. It wouldn’t really work with anyone else--but since it’s all part of you, I never minded. I don’t mind.” Virgil swallowed. “You want me to tell you some stuff about that? Some stuff I’ve noticed?”

“Sure,” Roman whispered.

“Great.” Virgil looked down at Roman. “You stick out your tongue when you’re thinking, did you know that? You stick it out and you’re staring at whatever you’re working on and it’s just stupidly adorable--and! And you do this little happy dance when you’re excited, you kinda bounce from foot to foot and do a little squeal and I wish I could get excited like you do--when you’re happy, you just make everyone around you happier, you’re--” Virgil struggled for words. “You’re radiant. You’re, like--I see you, and I know--I know it’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna work out.”

Roman was shaking now. Virgil tugged him even closer and--because why not--pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head.

“And yeah, we’ve had our rough spots. Everyone has.” Virgil sighed. “And you’re--you’re gonna mess up. Maybe you’re not everything you think you’re supposed to be. Maybe you’re not gonna end up--the prince, the dreamer, or whatever. Maybe not--maybe not even the hero. And that’s okay. ‘Cause you’re still gonna be you.”

Roman’s breath hitched.

“You’re gonna be you,” Virgil continued, “and I’m gonna help you, and I’m gonna fight for you, and--and I’m gonna be brave for you, I promise--and you could be anything and that’d be true. You could be a Dark Side tomorrow. You could completely change functions. You could--you could be anything, but you’d still be Roman, and I--I’ll be here. No matter what.”

The lights skidded over the ceiling. Roman had stopped rubbing his hands on Virgil’s jacket. He was just still, still and silent and trembling like a plucked string.

“You’re Roman,” Virgil said. “And I don’t even have words for how--how freaking fantastic you are, every day--you’re--you’re my friend. You’re--so much more than that.” Virgil closed his eyes. “I love you, Ro. So much. And you might not really have everything figured out, and I definitely don’t, but--if it means anything, I know who you are, because you’re always going to be the person I love.”

And Virgil was crying. Virgil sniffed and wiped his eyes, but the choked noises didn’t stop--and he realized Roman was crying too, sobbing quietly into Virgil’s jacket. It was small cries. Quiet--too quiet, the cry of someone who’d been used to keeping it hidden.

“Oh,” Virgil said, gathering Roman in his arms and pressing his forehead to Roman’s. Tears dripped down Roman’s cheeks, and he clung to Virgil’s jacket for dear life, breath hitching. “Roman, Princey, love, it’s going to be okay, I promise--”

Roman pressed himself closer, crying, and Virgil let him stay.

“It’s going to be okay,” Virgil whispered into his hair, “you’ll figure it out. I’m here. I’ve got it covered. I promise it’s okay--you can let it out, keep crying, it’s okay--we’ll figure it out--I’m not gonna stop loving you, I’m not gonna stop looking out for you--”

Roman’s sobs grew louder and Virgil kept talking. “It’s okay,” he said, over and over again. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Maybe if he said it enough, Roman would believe it.

Maybe if he said it enough, Virgil would, too.

“It’s okay,” Virgil said, and meant it.

“You’re doing amazing,” Virgil said, and meant it.

“I love you,” Virgil said, and couldn’t imagine not meaning it, not being so entirely in love with Roman that it ached with it and dripped with it and filled every word. He heard it. He heard it and he heard it and he finally couldn’t hide from it--because maybe Roman could hear too, and maybe Roman would listen.

“I love you,” Virgil said, and for once he wasn’t afraid of it. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” was the first thing Roman said when his tears slowed. “I love you, Virgil, I love you--”

“I know,” Virgil said. And meant it. “I know, Ro, it’s okay--”

“I’m sorry,” Roman whispered.

“Don’t be.”

“I’m sorry--”

“Fine, then, I’m sorry too.” Virgil pressed his forehead to Roman’s and wiped away his tears with a hand. And he left it there, resting on Roman’s cheek, because he didn’t want to let go. “I’m sorry. And look at that--that’s okay. We can get better from here. I swear.”

Roman laughed wetly. “The Nico thing is a disaster.”

“The Nico thing is something we’ll figure out,” Virgil said. “We’ve got this. It’ll work.”

“We’re not--” Roman sighed. “We’re not ready for it, are we?”

“I’m not, and you’re not.” Virgil laughed a bit. “But, um, maybe two not-readies makes a ready?”

“Doubt it,” Roman whispered, and Virgil suddenly realized how close they were, foreheads pressed together. He could--he could move forward, just a bit, and--

“We’ll try,” Roman said, lips parting. “We’ll try, can’t we? Can’t we try? Do we--do we get that?”

“Yes,” Virgil said. “Yes, we get that, you get that--we’ll try, we’ll try and we’ll make it work somehow, I promise--”

“And if it doesn’t?” Roman’s voice was so quiet, so thin, the trail of an airplane across the stars. “What if we make things worse?”

Virgil couldn’t say he hadn’t thought of that. Obviously. Worrying was his job, and he saw the possible ramifications to everything, of course he’d thought through every possible outcome of this. And--and still.

Whatever made Roman happy, Virgil would do.

Because that always made Virgil happy, too.

“We’ll figure it out,” Virgil said. “You--you know what taking a chance is? You know what it is, to do something you want, even though it could hurt?”

“What?” Roman murmured, just a breath from Virgil’s lips.

Virgil smiled. “Bravery.”

Roman’s eyes flickered open.

They were so, so close. Lights spun around them, shadows crept away, and Virgil could--Virgil could--

“Hey,” Virgil said, barely above a whisper. “Can I--”

Roman’s eyes flickered down to Virgil’s lips and back up.

And Virgil didn’t know who moved. Maybe it was him. Maybe Roman. Maybe it didn’t matter, because they moved, and then Virgil was kissing Roman for the first time.

Okay.

Cool.

Wow.

Virgil didn’t know what he was doing--it didn’t matter, though, since he was kissing Roman--and all he could think of was how much he’d wanted this, how much he’d told himself he didn’t want this, how much he’d never wanted to cradle Roman’s face in his hands and tangle his hand in Roman’s hair and--

Virgil tangled a hand in Roman’s hair. It was exactly as good as he’d hoped.

And Roman pushed him back, against the headboard, and Roman was kissing him, and Virgil was breathless and weightless and absolutely okay with it.

Virgil could have been floating. Virgil could have been drifting in the cold night hair, among the stars, because the world was dark and filled with pinpricks of light and all he knew was warm skin under his fingers and a hand around his waist and the way Roman held him like this was all Roman had ever wanted, too--

And of course, they had to break apart, because Virgil couldn’t stay breathless--although gosh did he want to, to just lose time in Roman’s arms--

They separated.

Virgil was sure he could count every fleck of light in Roman’s eyes. A blush had settled across his cheeks, his hair was even messier than usual, and he was staring at Virgil like Virgil had hung the moon.

“Huh,” Roman said.

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed.

Roman snickered. Virgil snorted. And then they were laughing, inches apart, giggling on the bed at maybe two or three in the morning, still entangled in each other and neither moving to separate their hands.

“So,” Roman finally said, his laughing settling into a smile. “That was...okay.”

“I was okay with it,” Virgil blurted out. “Um. More than okay. And--I don’t know what it means, what you want it to mean, but--”

“It meant I like you,” Roman said. As if it was obvious. Maybe it was. “A lot. And--”

“And we want to try this,” Virgil said. “For real?”

“We can’t exactly try it for fake, can we?” Roman teased.

“We’re trying,” Virgil said. “We’re trying?”

“Yes,” Roman said. “I--I mean, we might fail, I might--”

“And then we’ll figure it out.” Virgil reached for a bit of courage, deep inside him, and found it came more naturally when Roman was pressed into him. “We’ll try it out, okay?”

Roman laughed a bit. “We’re not ready.”

“Nah, but life does that sometimes, right?” Virgil sighed. “We’re--we’ll be ready, soon enough. One day. And right now, we’ll just kind of...wing it?”

“Wing it,” Roman repeated. “A daring battle plan, emo.”

“Hey, you’re the hero here.” Virgil, despite himself, felt his lips curl in a smile. “We’ll figure it out, Princey. And--and maybe we won’t really know who we are, what we want--any of that--for a while. Maybe never again, who knows. But if I don’t take this chance, I’ll regret it.”

“So will I,” Roman said. “And--quite honestly, I’m a bit tired of regrets.”

“So let’s give it our all,” Virgil said. “We’ll never know until we try.”

“We’ll try,” Roman agreed, and placed a kiss on Virgil’s lips that tasted of salt and cinnamon. Virgil melted into it, and when they pulled away, let Roman curl up next to him. It was late. Virgil could happily fall asleep right here--and really, that wasn’t such a bad idea.

“When’s the last time you slept?” he mumbled, watching the lights dance over Roman’s face.

“Dunno,” Roman slurred, watching Virgil with soft eyes.

“Well, it’s gonna be now.” Virgil threw an arm over Roman. “Get some sleep, Princey.”

“You first.”

“What, you think I’m leaving?” Virgil snuggled closer, and Roman wrapped an arm around his waist. “Nope. You’re stuck with me.”

“Hmm.” Roman hummed to himself. “Okay with that.”

“Good, so am I.” Virgil kissed Roman’s forehead. “Come on. No talk, only sleep.”

“I love you,” Roman said, immediately breaking the rule. But Virgil couldn’t get mad. “And--I--thank you, I--”

“You’re welcome,” Virgil said. “I’d do it anytime.”

Roman smiled and closed his eyes. “You’re my hero, emo.”

And Virgil would never admit the way his heart softened.

“Thanks,” Virgil whispered. “You’re my hero, too.”

Roman was already drifting off. The floor was crowded, the door swung open, the desk was messy--and eh, whatever. They’d figure it out tomorrow. Right now, they both needed sleep, and the windows were wide to the starry sky.

“And I don’t even care,” Virgil said, “if you’re not my hero. You don’t have to be.”

He looked over at Roman, and he smiled.

“As long as you’re mine, we’re good.”

“We’re good,” Roman echoed, eyes still closed.

“We’ll be good,” Virgil agreed.

And he tried to believe it--he told himself he would believe it, he could, he deserved to--and he found, in the end, it wasn’t as hard as he thought it’d be.

They’d be good.

They’d be okay.

And they’d find their way forward.

Virgil fell asleep next to Roman, surrounded by drifting lights and warm shadows, and there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

General taglist (ask to be included or removed!):

@the17thmeatball

@most-likely-fandom

@csi-baker-street-babes

@caffeinated-cryptid

@thefivecalls

@ollyollyoxinfree

@the-gay-is-back

@dramaticsnakes

@stoicpanther

@chaospersonified

@thatoneloudowl

@jungle321jungle

@mistythegirlfluxmess

@k1ngtok1

@joylessnightsky

@elizabutgayer

@ohheavenlylord

#sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #i banged ninety-five percent of this out this evening #djkhgfds i'm so tired but i wanted to get at least one WIP out of the way #anyway take care of urself yall don't write 8k in one sitting #averywrites

[fanfalc-616]

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Twenty-Seven

(Previous Chapter Here)

Hey guys on a scale of one to ten how much to do hate me?

I bet that number’s about to go up a few notches~

Cole can’t focus on his work.

He’s trying, he’s doing everything he can, but his brain refuses to cooperate, instead going back to one single fact.

Today is Zane’s birthday.

Or, well, ‘creation day’, as he would say in a fondly exasperated tone.

No matter how hard he tries to focus on right now, the only thing he can think about is how happy they all were together.

It’s been so long, so, so, so long, and Cole curses himself for not being able to remember all the details. The little angles of his smile, the brightness of his blue eyes, the softness of his synthetic skin when they held hands… it’s all so hazy now.

But when he closes his eyes, he can still remember how they were when they were together. How startled he had been when they realized Cole was strong enough to pick him up- and how much he laughed and half-heartedly lectured him when Cole abused that ability. How he started pranking Jay by pretending not to understand metaphors and jokes that he actually had already figured out. How he would insist on keeping their bedroom clean and organized even when Kai would absolutely trash it two days after he picked it all up.

His mind is just flooded with memories of him, images and events and feelings- Zane is the only thing he can think about.

He would always insist on pointing out how ‘illogical’ birthday wishes were, he would refuse to let anyone else make the cake- well, at least after Cole’s failed attempt at it.

Zane… he’s irreplaceable. And they- they’ve lost him before. After they fought the Golden Master, after he died. The team split up, they couldn’t even look at each other without painful memories attacking them.

Because… Lloyd leads them. Cole holds them together. Kai keeps them going towards their goal. Jay makes jokes and keeps their spirits up. Nya stops them from falling into their own self doubt.

But Zane? Zane was the one who brought life to them.

He helped Lloyd when he didn’t trust himself enough to lead. He helped Cole when he fell apart. He helped Kai when he felt he couldn’t keep going. He helped Jay when he woke up from nightmares he refused to explain. He helped Nya when she second-guessed herself.

Zane was always there, always bringing out the best in them, always protecting them from whatever tried to hurt them.

Cole can’t let this keep going. He can’t let the purest, kindest, gentlest person he knows be hurt like this.

Whatever they’re doing to him there, he can’t stand for it. He can’t fail, he can’t give in, he will do anything and everything to save him.

He loves Zane with everything he has, and Cole refuses to let them keep him from him.

Zane may not be human, but Cole wouldn’t want him any other way.

They will never take away the one he loves.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Another wire is pulled on.

Another set of circuits is jostled.

Another panel is pushed to the side.

Zane stares blankly ahead, doing everything in his power to avoid acknowledging it. He had even turned off his artificial respiratory system- with the way his chest plate is open and inner workings are exposed, his circuits don’t need the extra cooling.

A hand pulling his power source almost out of his chest makes a strangled whimper escape the back of his throat. The pain is overwhelming, but he grits his teeth and forces it down.

Showing emotion gets it hurt. And it doesn’t want to get hurt.

After a few more moments of struggling with his own thoughts, he allows himself to listen in on what the people working on him are saying.

The one typing notes into his computer frowns in thought. “Was it- yeah, I think it was actually built today. The exact year isn’t here, but I think it’s sixty? Seventy? Somewhere around there?”

Zane feels himself tense up. He- it’s his birthday? Well, more technically, ‘creation day’, but the others had always insisted on referring to it by the more human term. They-

“Hey, Original. What year were you built?”

The direct question grabs his attention, and he takes half a moment to think back- it’s been quite a long time, given that he watched his father grow old.

“My original body was completed and activated sixty-three years ago. My current body was completed two years, one month, two weeks and six days ago,” he answers, forcing his voice to remain emotionless.

Something is aching in his chest- and it’s not because of the way his workings are being probed.

Has it really been that long? It’s been… over eight months. He’s been here for- for so long, he-

Another weak whimper is forced out of it with the manipulation of his power source, and he once again tries to muffle it.

His birthday. It had always had such good memories attached to it.

He can remember the time Cole had taken it upon himself to be the one who baked the cake. Flour, sugar, eggs- the ingredients ended up almost everywhere except for in the baking sheet. It had been extremely amusing- but in the end, Zane had decided to spare him from his repeated failed efforts and make the cake himself. His attempt was, thankfully, edible.

With that memory, he’s reminded of another- when Kai had somehow gotten it into his head that he must get Zane the best present. The hours and hours the red ninja had spent researching and trying to find what he would like the most actually did serve a use- Zane didn’t think that any copies of that book were still around, and it was very much a pleasant surprise when Kai gifted it to him.

Not to mention the first birthday they celebrated, the one after they had missed the first year due to Zane’s amnesia. Jay had decided that it needed to be perfect, with absolutely no room for error. He spent so long looking into details and small factors that really made no difference, but the pride he had showed was too endearing for Zane to be willing to point that out.

But… in the end, he honestly couldn’t care less about the food, gifts, or decorations.

What really made it special were his friends.

Zane can hear its own processor working as he tries to push the memories into the back of his mind. He- he doesn’t want to remember, it doesn’t want to think about what he used to have, he doesn’t want to acknowledge that he’s never going to have that again, he-

No, no, he needs to stop, it needs to get the thoughts out of its head, if he keeps this up he’ll likely begin to cry, and he doesn’t want to get hurt again, he’s so tired of being hurt, he-

/“Hey Frosty!” Jay had chirped as he pushed the cake towards him. “Happy Birthday!”

“Hey, hey, someone turn off the lights!” Kai waved his hand around as he tried to get someone’s attention. “I’m gonna light the candles!”

Zane’s mouth had quirked up. “I highly doubt blowing out small fires on a pastry will grant any wishes,” he pointed out for the upteenth time, well aware of the response he would get.

“C’mon, Zee, don’t be so technical about it. It’s a birthday wish!” Cole had rolled his eyes, but his annoyance was clearly playful as he flicked off the light switch.

With the candles lit, Zane had smiled as he listened to the poorly tuned singing of ‘Happy Birthday’ from his boyfriends.

When the song ended, Zane had chuckled before blowing the candles out, even though he had no wishes in mind.

He didn’t need any birthday magic- not when he had his friends beside him./

Against his will, his respiratory system is reactivated, his breathing coming in raggedly. Fighting back the urge to cry, Zane breathes out a few quiet words.

“I… I wish I could see you again.”

Once they escape, it’s like a dam had been broken. Despite his best efforts, there’s nothing he can do to stop the sobs torn from him.

The memories… he has just enough of them to torment him without comfort. He can remember their experiences, but not their faces. He can remember how he felt, but not the details of the events that caused the coded emotions.

It can hear the way he’s ordered to stop, but the voice seems so distant, almost muffled. His body refuses to follow the command, and he continues to cry, wishing with everything left inside of him for one thing, just one small, simple thing.

To see his friends.

Just one last time.

They can take him back after, if they wish, and he will return. It will allow them to take him here if he must, if only he could only talk with them once more, just to tell them one final thing.

Just to tell them goodbye.

He’s not going to last here for much longer. He knows this. And it pains him to know that he will never truly see them again. Even if they find him later, once he has truly shattered in their grasp, he… he won’t be Zane anymore. He won’t be the one they recognize. He’ll simply be a puppet, a thing for them to command and control.

And it’s not that that he’s scared of. He knows that this will be his fate. He’s already numbed to their commands and actions against him.

What hurts is knowing that he will never be theirs again. He’ll never be their teammate, their friend, their lover…

He’ll only be a shadow of the one they had loved.

He will not love them in return.

And they will have no choice but to accept that.

His chest panel is closed, and he’s roughly taken from the table, towards the training room. Even as he chokes on his own sobs, it doesn’t resist them.

And even if he can’t truly say it to them, even if they won’t ever hear it… he can tell them. He can tell them what he needs to say.

“I will love you to the very end, my friends.”

“Goodbye.”

#the rights of a nindroid #ninjago fanfiction #trauma #psychological torture #torture

[thealiaamir]

Lilith

History:

Lilith was the original Eve, created from the same soil as Adam. Her name comes from the Babylonian “Lilitu” meaning “female demon” or “wind spirit”. When Adam insisted that he should be dominant, Lilith dared to question him. After all, they were crafted from the same Earth. She wished only to be equal, but was demonized for this. She was, thus, cast out of Eden. Allegedly, she created thousands of demon spawn and devoured infants by the bucketful. These accusations are falsehoods, crafted by those fearful of her righteous autonomy. Any havoc Lilith wrought was only out of woundedness, like the actions of a feral animal. She was shunned for speaking truth.

The “me too” movement is an expression of Lilith, where women show solidarity for the abuses they’ve suffered in silence. It is Lilith who exposes patriarchal corruption. Women become likened to banshees when they dare show rage. However, it would be limited to interpret Lilith only from the perspective of gender-based conflict. She is pure gut-instinct and extends far beyond sexual independence.

Lilith represents one’s ability to say “no” to what doesn’t feel right. She is pure root-chakra wisdom. The knowledge of the earth, muddy and messy. In one’s chart, she shows where you can become in-touch with your own body-wisdom. It’s this feeling in your stomach that says “heck yes!!!” or “this person makes my skin crawl.” Such intuition doesn’t align with left-brained, scientific modes of analysis.

The Signs/Houses:

Much like the asteroid chiron, Lilith represents a rejection wound in one’s chart. It’s where you speak your truth and no one wants to hear it. You put your heart on the line, but your desire for connection made someone cringe. You state your needs, and people ask “why do you have to be so difficult???” All you want is for someone to see the ferocious warmth beneath your intensity.

*if you have Lilith aspecting a planet, read the description for the sign it rules. Ex: sun would be Leo, Mercury would be Virgo or Gemini*

Aries/1st house: Daring to express oneself. The human embodiment of Lilith. Carnal. Someone who is known for butting heads with others. Notorious warrior. Fighting for the underdog is a part of one’s identity. Poster-boy of rejection wounds. Someone who feels like they’re “too much”, either bottling themselves up or living up to the expectation. Starting fights and then running to lick your wounds. Riling people up to get the negative attention you’re accustomed to. Truthfully, desiring authentic love that’s not based on filtering your personality into something more palatable.

Taurus/2nd house: someone who was told their desires are wrong. Being told you’re gluttonous for taking care of basic needs. Primal, all-consuming hunger. Eating disorders and shameful indulgence. A desire to consume one thing until you get sick of it. Ferociously guarding personal belongings and beliefs. Hoarding. A strong need to listing to one’s body, even if what it asks for doesn’t match conventional wisdom. Bullied for one’s weight. Earthly intuition. An unadulterated love for oneself that makes others uncomfortable. Intoxicatingly stubborn. Harsh & deep-set standards of morality.

Gemini/3rd house: saying things about people that hit a little too close to home. The thought process is primal. Knowing why people say the things they say. Reading people like a book. Ruthlessly pointing out falsehoods. Lilith is the trickster here, wearing many masks. Infamous for being inconsistent. Obsession with social dynamics, due to past rejection by “the tribe”. An outcast during school years. Extreme fear of missing out. Hiding taboo thoughts for fear of rejection. Unable to learn in a conventional fashion. Reading about the occult, depth psychology, myths, and anything else focusing on the core of human nature.

Cancer/4th house: the mother as an untamable Lilith figure. Standing up for one’s relatives. Someone with a dubious past. Mother was deemed insane or illogical. Black sheep. Feral obsession with comfort. Finding comfort in brutal honesty and ruthless emotional depth. Being deemed “impossible to live with”. High standard of living. Needing to set boundaries with one’s family and living situation. Controversial self-care. Knowing what truly matters. Fierce protector of the young and helpless. Savage goddess of the hearth. Periodic seclusion within one’s cave. Emotions take on a life of their own, going in bestial rampages.

Leo/5th house: Being ruthless becomes a game. The sin of unfiltered selfhood, becoming demonized for having fun. Toying with people’s hearts. Love/hate relationships. Compulsive validation needs. Hobbies may be taboo or the parents could’ve encouraged them to keep to themselves. Flames of desire emanate, pulsing like pyrotechnics. Rejected during childhood games. If they have kids, they’re likely the brutally honest sort. Children provide surprising bits of wisdom. This is someone who feels guilt for wanting to live a little. Unfiltered emotional expression can be too much for others. Heart swells at the slightest provocation. Needs to do what is simply in their nature, as those who matter will honor their authenticity.

Virgo/6th house: Compulsive organizational systems that seem illogical to others. Angry cleaning. Power of the gut-brain connection. Nature’s way of healing itself, clashing with the business of modern medicine. Disagreeable coworkers, or disagreeing with them yourself. Infamous at your place of work. The intestines strongly reject certain foods, so that you have to listen carefully. The diet may fluctuate daily. Acquired knowledge about nutrition and health may be of the controversial variety (carnivore diet, intuitive medicine, low oxalates, etc). Routines which may appear feral, but ground one in their body. People may take your high strandards personally, as they don’t know how to set boundaries themselves. A knot in your stomach tells you if something isn’t good for you.

Libra/7th house: Others are a mirror for the part of you that possesses unabated self-knowledge. Attracted to people ruled by irrational instinct. Must be careful to set clear boundaries in interactions with others. Compulsive need to interact and form partnerships, which may overwhelm others. Wild charm. Demonizing others. Wanting someone to teach you how to think for yourself. Partner helps you return to & nourish your body. Guttural wisdom exchanged in daily interactions. Best friend is someone incredibly grounded, who lives authentically. You demonize or idolize those who think for themselves.

Scorpio/8th house: psychoanalyzing others before they can do they same to you. A lifestyle that allows for a great deal of secrecy. Obscure & impenetrable. Unreavealing of cavernous depths of feeling, because they fear no one is brave enough to explore these shadows. Making people uncomfortable by purging every secret at once. Being abandoned once you reveal your true self. People offering “gifts” with treacherous strings attached. Unhealthy relationship dynamics- one person is running while the other is chasing. Being stalked or doing the stalking. Unearthing other’s rejection wounds. Shamanic. Concealed impulses. Instinctual need for closeness, where everything is shared. Their “soul mate” is someone ruthless.

Sagittarius/9th house: Too much to handle. Cycles of binging and purging. Living a life of excess. May attract questionable travel companions. Worldview is based on sharing hard truths to all who will listen. This is not someone who minces their words, though they’ve been told time and time again to keep their mouths shut. Their opinions are of the controversial variety, though they are rarely wrong. Arguments are a playground. Saying “no” to the religious doctrine pushed upon you as a child. A skeptic, because they know better in their gut. Higher education brings out compulsive tendencies. May confront teachers & all traditional knowledge. Tearing self-proclaimed gurus down with sharp wit.

Capricorn/10th house: Social pariah. Sex symbol. Businesses that involve female empowerment. Glitzy. Destined to become infamous. Dense and frenzied energy remains when you leave the room. Man-eater. Insatiable need for recognition, tearing one’s way through the corporate ladder. Symbol of truth. Breaking out of the box society has placed you in. The father/dominant parent may have been a “difficult” person. Lack of respect for false or corrupt authority. Innate power. “Bad cop”. Sticking it to the man. Fear of subordination. Intimidating competence and confidence. Cimmerian. Public symbol of authenticity. Honest evaluation of societal structures. Organized chaos.

Aquarius/11th house: Friendship isn’t taken lightly. May associate with controversial people. Freaks. Love/hate relationship towards humanity. Scaring aqaintances. Inundating society with knowledge they’re not yet ready for. Untethered. Jealousy towards those who meld into groups, causing them to further isolate. A reject, estranged from reality. Diabolical. Deep desire to be included. Obsession with what everyone else is doing. Violent subcultures. Strangers invading the native’s personal space, or vice versa. Electric compulsions, jolting the native out of old ways of being. These sudden consciousness shifts perturb others. Radical awareness of the body. They’ve been told to keep their visions of the future to themselves. The divine feminine is crowned in a fluorescent blue halo, lifted above the earth by undulating nimbus clouds.

Pisces/12th house: Beastial dreamscape. The Feminine Wild is both feared and revered. Fantasies of standing up for yourself. Trouble accessing your instinctive and earthy side. Conduit for collective delirium. Dissolution. Substance abuse. Ignoring instinct is your self-undoing. Surrendering autonomy. Deemed too hysterical, sensitive, and irresponsible. Freedom comes from claiming spiritual dominion. Knowing what your dreams and subconscious yearnings mean, becoming defensive when people dismiss your interpretations. Crawling out of your skin. Arcane knowledge via escapism. Odd methods of psychological mending.

[anxietycurved]

Day 139 of Positivity

Content warning: mental illness rant

For the sake of my own mental well being, I guess I’m gonna post this rant so it lives outside my mind.

Anxiety fucks you up so bad. Sometimes without warning. Sometimes just from a loved one saying the wrong thing. It makes every little nerve in you stand on end. You know what they’re saying and the conversation could go easier and not even be an issue. Then defensive words comes out of no where. It’s so illogical.

It’s like no matter how hard you try self-care is never enough. Sometimes you spin out or control. Even worse when you’re aware of what it is you’re doing. It’s preventable, but then again it’s not. You have to feed and water yourself like a house plant and it often feels like a chore. Anything feels like a chore. You chase after what makes you feel good. Fuck anything that doesn’t. Because one small wrong turn can crash you.

What do you do? When you’re functioning on pure... something. Hell you barley know what’s going on. You just sit there looking at anxiety, depression, and what your mind thinks are other undiagnosed mental illness.

Talk helps sometimes. Expect when people try to solve it. I want it out of my head. If I don’t talk about it, it just lives up there rent free. I need it evicted. How do you tell sometime you just need them to listen. To sympathize. I wish they could. I hate having to feed people words to make me feel better. I always thought the people who love me would know how to help me feel ease. Maybe it’s unhealthy I have those expectations.

Feel as though I need to come with a wanting label:

“Don’t overwhelm. Will become fucked up and mentally drained.”

Something like that.

I don’t know how to tell people lately I can’t handle listening to what’s on their minds. I keep on weighing their thoughts with mine. I don’t know how to be mentally healthy lately. Or maybe I see it, but I can’t get myself to do it. I used to be able to run. Or go do something physically and it would help. I don’t know why my mind won’t let me do that anymore. My mind doesn’t like letting me enjoy things I use to love.

Maybe writing this all out will help. Maybe.

I’m sorry I’m so fucked up.

#days of positivity #not so positive today #mental health awareness month #I need a break maybe

[hydra-collector]

Ripped Apart

AO3

Pairings: Intrulogical

Characters: Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders (all other sides mentioned)

TW: self-harm, suicidal thoughts, ocean creatures, gore/body horror (referenced, doesn’t actually happen), cursing

Words: 1,844

Summary: Remus gets much-needed comfort.

Note: Takes place roughly after POF.

Bite your tongue.

He felt the muscle conform to his teeth.

Harder.

Harder.

Bite it off.

Don’t.

Do it.

He bit until it bled, but not hard enough.

Please bite it off.

He would just cut. He wouldn’t have to think about this anymore. He’d forget. Healthy- healthier distractions.

He knew what he was. He knew he was self-destructive, unhealthy, depressed, even dying if you were to count where his thoughts had been going lately.

Just cut and it’ll go away.

What will? There’s the chance cutting would make him want to-

Cut your arms off.

No. He wasn’t going to do that.

You should.

He would bleed out and die, probably.

Then do that.

Just fucking cut.

That voice was constantly pestering him. Remus didn’t mind the intrusive thoughts, sexual jokes, murder, other people’s gore… none of it bothered him. But a while ago the thoughts of killing and hurting and dismemberment had begun being directed at himself. He hated it. He hated himself. What a disgusting being he was. The only way to make them stop was to give in. At least a little.

The blood that came was comforting. It felt humanizing, and reminded him his veins were still pumping. He was still alive.

It was grounding, but also saddening to some extent. He felt like this giant piece of shit that hurt anyone he touched. Part of him was so glad to be in this exhilarating whirlwind called life, no matter how hated he was, but the other part wanted it to end. He never knew if it was selfish or not. Sometimes he wanted so badly to fuck up his relationships with all his friends, if they even considered him a friend, and just erase himself from Thomas’s mind. Sometimes he felt trapped. Thomas never let his ideas free into the world. What was the point of Remus existing at all if he wasn’t going to be used to better Thomas’s content?

Was that his problem? Did he think Thomas was the problem and it was really him?

He sighed and set the razor aside for a moment.

Tell someone if you’re not going to rip out your internal organs.

Who could he tell?

Remus was still scared that Janus despised him, and he was never good with emotions anyway. He supposed he could talk to Virgil. But he’d left the dark sides. Why would he want to talk to either of them? Especially about sensitive topics. Patton was empathetic and theoretically would be good to talk to, but he’d hurt him. He hated intrusive thoughts, why would he want to talk to the embodiment of it? And there was no way he was going to talk to Roman.

Logan?

Logan, he was pretty sure, didn’t hate him. Rather, they’d talked before Remus’s first appearance and now could probably consider themselves friends. He knew Logan (even though he did shove teeth up his nose) and Logan talked to him. By choice.

He kind of liked Logan.

A lot.

Maybe too much.

He was the only side that Remus could give something the others thought disgusting, weird or creepy, and care about it. Talk about it. He’d even invited Remus to join in some chemistry once, (it did not go well; that did not happen again) and dissected all the dead animals he found. They talked about things the other sides wouldn’t dream of thinking about. And Remus loved science, especially about living things, because there were new, weird things always being discovered. The deep sea is full of wonders like squids and octopi, huge whales, tiny things, so many different species.

Just cut a little more. Then you can see Logan. He’ll help.

Will he?

“Logie! Teach me how to feel like a human again!”

He bounced his steps into the hall, Logan seemingly off to do work.

“You’re not a human, Remus.”

“I felt like one before, though.”

“Why not ask Patton for assistance? He’s much more well-versed in emotions than I am.”

“You’re the only one that likes me.”

“I doubt that’s true. Sure, the other sides may dislike your rather random thoughts, but why would that give them reason to dislike you? You’re a wonderful side.”

“That’s probably not true. No offense to you. I was hoping to find someone to stop me, but you don’t have to. I might cut off my arms and bite out my tongue. Ooh! Or blow up my legs! How long would it take for all of that to kill me?” He smiled a twisted, tortured smile, digging his long fingernails deep into his palms.

“Remus, are you alright? Would you like to sit down? I can get you anything you need, you seem like you could use it. Anything, I can help.”

“Logan, I haven’t been okay for months. Years? Probably my entire life.”

“Please, come sit down.”

Logan led him, hand on his back, to his room, walls blue and books stacked neatly in rows. He pushed aside his laptop from his bed to sit Remus down.

“Ooh, does the nerd wanna fuck?”

“Remus, I need you to be at least semi-serious right now. Did anything specific happen to make you feel like this? Are there any other notable emotions I should be aware of? And what can I do to help?”

“I’ve been depressed for,” he counted on his fingers, “I don’t know how long, but a while!” He said this far too cheerily.

“Okay, that does not sound good. Why did you tell me now?”

“I decided I either give in and destroy myself and wait to die or tell someone. I figured I can do it anyway after I’ve told someone, so I might as well. Ooh, should I write a note?” He grinned at Logan, beginning to scratch at his hands and arms.

“Remus,” he took the creative side’s hands in his own to prevent further scratching, “don’t write a note, don’t kill yourself. It is illogical to take away a part of Thomas’s personality, no matter how inessential you may think you are.”

“I don’t want to, but I have to. Everyone will stop being miserable because of me, I’ll stop being miserable because of me, I’m sure as hell not gonna be missed-”

Logan pulled their hands up to his face, making the impulsive decision and kissing the dark side’s knuckles lightly.

“I’d miss you.”

Remus gazed upwards, surprised. Logan retracted his hands from Remus’s.

“I apologize,” he still didn’t let go of his friend’s hands, “that was unnecessarily intimate.”

Logan could swear Remus’s eyes sparkled.

“No, it was okay. I don’t think anyone’s… ever done something like that.”

“Would more physical affection help with your mental state? If so, I shall provide it.”

Both were desperate for it.

Remus nodded and Logan sat next to him, at first giving an awkward hug, but soon the two moved to lean against the wall and grew more comfortable, supporting each other’s weight.

“I’m bleeding.”

“Remus, did you-”

Before he could even finish his question, Remus’s sleeves were pulled up, smearing the blood still oozing out of the fresh wounds.

“I love them. They’re so pretty. They’re dark and warm and satisfying and I don’t have to chop off my limbs-”

He had a visible reaction to thinking about it again, hitting his head with his now bloody hands.

“Why do I remind myself-”

Logan took Remus’s hands again, keeping them away from his head, as well as each other, in case he started scratching himself again. It hurt him to see him like this. He waited a moment until he was fairly sure Remus could sit for a bit without hurting himself, left to wet a washcloth from the bathroom and brought in the First Aid kit.

“I wanna see them though.”

“Remus, let me. They’ll get infected.”

“Even more fun!”

“Remus, no.”

“Remus yes.”

“What?”

“Didn’t expect you to understand that.”

“Are you going to let me clean those?”

“Can I make more after?”

“No, this is incredibly unhealthy. On quite a few levels. Not only does self-harm directly impair your physical health, but additionally indirectly affects physical health by worsening your mental health, which is probably the worst effect.”

“They make me feel better though. And stop me from dying. Even if cutting technically hurts me, it’s probably keeping me alive.”

“It’s not a healthy coping mechanism. At some point it won’t be enough.”

“It’s enough now.”

“Like Janus said, don’t wait until you’re having a mental breakdown- or in your case, once you’re about to die- to take care of yourself. It only ends in misery, Remus.”

Logan only just realized how close the two of them were. He’d leaned forward, hands on Remus’s upper arms, holding the two of them too close for normal comfort. But right now it was oddly okay. He could feel Remus’s breathing on his face, irregular and nearing sobs. He should give him room to cry, but he’d grabbed onto Logan as well, so apparently didn’t want to.

“I already hurt so bad, why do I want more of it?”

Remus sniffed before burying his face into Logan’s shoulder and letting his tears flow into the black polo.

“Please hug me. Or clean them. It doesn’t matter. Just touch me. And in a non-sexual way, for once.”

Logan took his chance to gently wash the cuts with his rag. Remus continued crying while he applied the antibiotics and wrapped gauze firmly around his arms. Remus cried when he was done, falling on his chest with enough force that he ended up on his back, surprised. He adjusted this position so it was comfortable for the two of them, leaning against pillows he moved next to the wall.

He rubbed Remus’s back and upper arms, shoulders, held his hands, squeezed his torso, hoping it was helping. Remus turned his head and opened his eyes, which had at last stopped crying. He stared at Logan, maybe a bit too long.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“No.”

Remus contemplated for a moment, then decided to say it, grinning widely.

“Can I kiss you?”

“W-what?” His cheeks turned red.

“Can I kiss you? I don’t have to.”

Logan thought for a moment, looking at Remus’s face, then slowly nodded.

He held Logan’s face with his hands and kissed him softly, causing him to get even redder.

“I did not expect that.”

“What?”

“It was remarkably… unlike you.”

“Want another more like me, Lo?”

“I hesitate to ask what that would be like.”

Remus grinned. Less pronounced than the previous ones of the day, but it was more real and meant so much more than those had. It lifted Logan’s heart a little.

“Are you feeling a little better now, Remus?”

“I don’t really wanna die anymore, so probably.”

It was a massive relief to Logan to hear that. He started smiling, which Remus smiled back to.

Logan, after some silence, kissed him on the forehead. He held him as long as he could.

Remus needed every second.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #remus sanders #logan sanders #intrulogical #ts remus #ts logan #ts remus angst #remus angst #remus sanders angst #tw ocean #tw gore #tw body horror #tw self harm #tw sucidal ideation #tw suicidal thoughts #tw cussing #grays fics

[canvasofthecosmos]

Lilith- Truth Coming out of Her Well to Shame Mankind

(Painting by Jean-Léon Gérôme)

History:

Lilith was the original Eve, created from the same soil as Adam. Her name comes from the Babylonian “Lilitu” meaning “female demon” or “wind spirit”. When Adam insisted that he should be dominant, Lilith dared to question him. After all, they were crafted from the same Earth. She wished only to be equal, but was demonized for this. She was, thus, cast out of Eden. Allegedly, she created thousands of demon spawn and devoured infants by the bucketful. These accusations are falsehoods, crafted by those fearful of her righteous autonomy. Any havoc Lilith wrought was only out of woundedness, like the actions of a feral animal. She was shunned for speaking truth.

The “me too” movement is an expression of Lilith, where women show solidarity for the abuses they’ve suffered in silence. It is Lilith who exposes patriarchal corruption. Women become likened to banshees when they dare show rage. However, it would be limited to interpret Lilith only from the perspective of gender-based conflict. She is pure gut-instinct and extends far beyond sexual independence.

Lilith represents one’s ability to say “no” to what doesn’t feel right. She is pure root-chakra wisdom. The knowledge of the earth, muddy and messy. In one’s chart, she shows where you can become in-touch with your own body-wisdom. It’s this feeling in your stomach that says “heck yes!!!” or “this person makes my skin crawl.” Such intuition doesn’t align with left-brained, scientific modes of analysis.

The Signs/Houses:

Much like the asteroid chiron, Lilith represents a rejection wound in one’s chart. It’s where you speak your truth and no one wants to hear it. You put your heart on the line, but your desire for connection made someone cringe. You state your needs, and people ask “why do you have to be so difficult???” All you want is for someone to see the ferocious warmth beneath your intensity.

*if you have Lilith aspecting a planet, read the description for the sign it rules. Ex: sun would be Leo, Mercury would be Virgo or Gemini*

Aries/1st house: Daring to express oneself. The human embodiment of Lilith. Carnal. Someone who is known for butting heads with others. Notorious warrior. Fighting for the underdog is a part of one’s identity. Poster-boy of rejection wounds. Someone who feels like they’re “too much”, either bottling themselves up or living up to the expectation. Starting fights and then running to lick your wounds. Riling people up to get the negative attention you’re accustomed to. Truthfully, desiring authentic love that’s not based on filtering your personality into something more palatable.

Taurus/2nd house: someone who was told their desires are wrong. Being told you’re gluttonous for taking care of basic needs. Primal, all-consuming hunger. Eating disorders and shameful indulgence. A desire to consume one thing until you get sick of it. Ferociously guarding personal belongings and beliefs. Hoarding. A strong need to listing to one’s body, even if what it asks for doesn’t match conventional wisdom. Bullied for one’s weight. Earthly intuition. An unadulterated love for oneself that makes others uncomfortable. Intoxicatingly stubborn. Harsh & deep-set standards of morality.

Gemini/3rd house: saying things about people that hit a little too close to home. The thought process is primal. Knowing why people say the things they say. Reading people like a book. Ruthlessly pointing out falsehoods. Lilith is the trickster here, wearing many masks. Infamous for being inconsistent. Obsession with social dynamics, due to past rejection by “the tribe”. An outcast during school years. Extreme fear of missing out. Hiding taboo thoughts for fear of rejection. Unable to learn in a conventional fashion. Reading about the occult, depth psychology, myths, and anything else focusing on the core of human nature.

Cancer/4th house: the mother as an untamable Lilith figure. Standing up for one’s relatives. Someone with a dubious past. Mother was deemed insane or illogical. Black sheep. Feral obsession with comfort. Finding comfort in brutal honesty and ruthless emotional depth. Being deemed “impossible to live with”. High standard of living. Needing to set boundaries with one’s family and living situation. Controversial self-care. Knowing what truly matters. Fierce protector of the young and helpless. Savage goddess of the hearth. Periodic seclusion within one’s cave. Emotions take on a life of their own, going in bestial rampages.

Leo/5th house: Being ruthless becomes a game. The sin of unfiltered selfhood, becoming demonized for having fun. Toying with people’s hearts. Love/hate relationships. Compulsive validation needs. Hobbies may be taboo or the parents could’ve encouraged them to keep to themselves. Flames of desire emanate, pulsing like pyrotechnics. Rejected during childhood games. If they have kids, they’re likely the brutally honest sort. Children provide surprising bits of wisdom. This is someone who feels guilt for wanting to live a little. Unfiltered emotional expression can be too much for others. Heart swells at the slightest provocation. Needs to do what is simply in their nature, as those who matter will honor their authenticity.

Virgo/6th house: Compulsive organizational systems that seem illogical to others. Angry cleaning. Power of the gut-brain connection. Nature’s way of healing itself, clashing with the business of modern medicine. Disagreeable coworkers, or disagreeing with them yourself. Infamous at your place of work. The intestines strongly reject certain foods, so that you have to listen carefully. The diet may fluctuate daily. Acquired knowledge about nutrition and health may be of the controversial variety (carnivore diet, intuitive medicine, low oxalates, etc). Routines which may appear feral, but ground one in their body. People may take your high strandards personally, as they don’t know how to set boundaries themselves. A knot in your stomach tells you if something isn’t good for you.

Libra/7th house: Others are a mirror for the part of you that possesses unabated self-knowledge. Attracted to people ruled by irrational instinct. Must be careful to set clear boundaries in interactions with others. Compulsive need to interact and form partnerships, which may overwhelm others. Wild charm. Demonizing others. Wanting someone to teach you how to think for yourself. Partner helps you return to & nourish your body. Guttural wisdom exchanged in daily interactions. Best friend is someone incredibly grounded, who lives authentically. You demonize or idolize those who think for themselves.

Scorpio/8th house: psychoanalyzing others before they can do they same to you. A lifestyle that allows for a great deal of secrecy. Obscure & impenetrable. Unreavealing of cavernous depths of feeling, because they fear no one is brave enough to explore these shadows. Making people uncomfortable by purging every secret at once. Being abandoned once you reveal your true self. People offering “gifts” with treacherous strings attached. Unhealthy relationship dynamics- one person is running while the other is chasing. Being stalked or doing the stalking. Unearthing other’s rejection wounds. Shamanic. Concealed impulses. Instinctual need for closeness, where everything is shared. Their “soul mate” is someone ruthless.

Sagittarius/9th house: Too much to handle. Cycles of binging and purging. Living a life of excess. May attract questionable travel companions. Worldview is based on sharing hard truths to all who will listen. This is not someone who minces their words, though they’ve been told time and time again to keep their mouths shut. Their opinions are of the controversial variety, though they are rarely wrong. Arguments are a playground. Saying “no” to the religious doctrine pushed upon you as a child. A skeptic, because they know better in their gut. Higher education brings out compulsive tendencies. May confront teachers & all traditional knowledge. Tearing self-proclaimed gurus down with sharp wit.

Capricorn/10th house: Social pariah. Sex symbol. Businesses that involve female empowerment. Glitzy. Destined to become infamous. Dense and frenzied energy remains when you leave the room. Man-eater. Insatiable need for recognition, tearing one’s way through the corporate ladder. Symbol of truth. Breaking out of the box society has placed you in. The father/dominant parent may have been a “difficult” person. Lack of respect for false or corrupt authority. Innate power. “Bad cop”. Sticking it to the man. Fear of subordination. Intimidating competence and confidence. Cimmerian. Public symbol of authenticity. Honest evaluation of societal structures. Organized chaos.

Aquarius/11th house: Friendship isn’t taken lightly. May associate with controversial people. Freaks. Love/hate relationship towards humanity. Scaring aqaintances. Inundating society with knowledge they’re not yet ready for. Untethered. Jealousy towards those who meld into groups, causing them to further isolate. A reject, estranged from reality. Diabolical. Deep desire to be included. Obsession with what everyone else is doing. Violent subcultures. Strangers invading the native’s personal space, or vice versa. Electric compulsions, jolting the native out of old ways of being. These sudden consciousness shifts perturb others. Radical awareness of the body. They’ve been told to keep their visions of the future to themselves. The divine feminine is crowned in a fluorescent blue halo, lifted above the earth by undulating nimbus clouds.

Pisces/12th house: Beastial dreamscape. The Feminine Wild is both feared and revered. Fantasies of standing up for yourself. Trouble accessing your instinctive and earthy side. Conduit for collective delirium. Dissolution. Substance abuse. Ignoring instinct is your self-undoing. Surrendering autonomy. Deemed too hysterical, sensitive, and irresponsible. Freedom comes from claiming spiritual dominion. Knowing what your dreams and subconscious yearnings mean, becoming defensive when people dismiss your interpretations. Crawling out of your skin. Arcane knowledge via escapism. Odd methods of psychological mending.

#el #lilith #asteroids #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #aries lilith #taurus lilith #gemini lilith #cancer lilith #leo lilith #virgo lilith #libra lilith #scorpio lilith #sagittarius lilith #capricorn lilth #aquarius lilith #pisces lilith

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket, SE02, Ep22

I was pleasantly surprised that this was one of the best balanced eps concerning tohru as of yet!! They touched upon her being mom-figure in the first half but proceeded to humanize her afterward, depicting her as normal girl!, frustrated, vulnerable & somewhat silently struggling. I was right in my prediction that the moment yuki lets go of mom-tohru image, the show will too!! I’m happy!! finally, No more angels in the sky. But only real tohru with flaws, ugliness & humanity.

-Yuki’s acceptance of past feelings & change towards new ones:

The show is aware that they’ve been using the fake love-triangle initially but it actually has an explanation within the story. Yuki is attracted to tohru, so much, but it isn’t romantic at all. his attempts in “correcting” how he perceived her didn’t set right with him & he felt weirded out more! The show brilliantly depicted these “flirty scenes” with a hint of uneasiness. Yuki’s lines/ moves felt cringey & artificial “do you like my act, princess”,”I’ll kidnap you”, being encouraged by Aya to compliment tohru as a boy should. The signs are all there except not in your face, & the writer deserves praise!! Yuki, being perceptive, was able to reach such conclusion, not only by looking into himself, but by also at looking how kyo interacted with her, differently from him. Kyo sees tohru as a woman & is attracted to her romantically & altho kyo’s words & interactions with tohru lacks princely smoothness & have a hint of awkwardness, it was natural, genuine & spontaneous. Kyo didn’t put on an act or forced himself to flirt or deliberately chose words to impress tohru. Yuki was able to notice tohru only looked romantically towards kyo. Yuki used all his observations to reach another conclusion abt himself too!!! What he wants in a relationship is sth similar to kyo/tohru!! Mutual & equal relationship. He won’t be satisfied by one-sidedly giving or taking.

-The Author’s brilliance in writing traumatic-based behavior ( Kyo/yuki’s best interaction!! ) :

-an anon cryptically warned me that I’ll be disappointed in kyo this ep cuz of a certain scene with yuki. After watching it, I can tell you without a doubt I’m not disappointed at all!! Rather I’m beyond satisfied that I’ve decided to trust the author. Ms. Takya is genius in depicting traumatic-based behavior! Any other writer, would write the scene less raw, yuki would still shine defeating his inner demos, but kyo would only grunt, or say sth mild. cuz the writer might fear that it might risk showing kyo as the stupid guy behind in his growth compared to the successful yuki ,or annoy the readers/viewers who are so eager for these boys to reach mutual ground. Only a great writer will be brave enough to write kyo as his trauma/ faulty copying mechanism logically dictates!

-We spent an entire season with yuki, saw him yell at kakeru’s insensitive hurtful remarks, cry knowing he was saved cuz a friend risked freeing him, it took a locked dark room, paint fumes, PTSD, tons of monologues before yuki finally let it all out! & you want such brilliant writer to make kyo turn around & be nice to yuki all of a sudden after episodes of fights & no perspective insight? You bet such amazing writer will give kyo’s perspective its time & his development the logical progress he needs. This writer is all abt logical & realistic progression! whether positive or even negative, the characters will come across human, raw, realistic & real during & after their journey.

- Going through kyo/yuki’s dialogue, it will tell you that furuba is NOT abt friendship saving the day, or abt successful growth. It is abt the journey these traumatized children are undergoing now that they are nearly becoming young adults. Yuki’s journey was amazing not cuz he succeeded (as amazingly as this is) but cuz it made sense from his perspective, was realistic, logical, matched his coping mechanism & character traits & it took the needed time. Now for kyo, all his reactions should match his perspective, & make sense giving his coping mechanism. He wasn’t given time yet. so, he won’t grow much yet. “Making a fool of me?” kyo didn’t see yuki’s perspective abt the hat. he thinks yuki did it on purpose to taunt him.That HE saved tohru while kyo fails as always. “Praised by others, needed by them” Kyo like everybody in school, always thought yuki is a prince, loved, & admired. Kyo is not the audience, he didn’t see yuki’s struggle.”surpass me easily while I struggle” kyo may train for years with tears & blood, but the rat will beat him always cuz he is superiors. “an idiot that never gets anything, wants an idiotic impossible thing” “if only I gave birth to the rat, I’d ve been happier” kyo’s mom wished or the impossible. So did kyo. He wished that he’d prove to her that he can be the rat’s equal. She shouldn't have died becuz of him. An impossible wish.

-I personally think that kyo’s journey will take a different path from yuki’s. Unlike yuki, kyo’s been accused & proved to harm others somehow, intentionally or unintentionally. Some not even in this world anymore. So there are things in kyo’s journey that can’t be fixed. Nothing will bring his mom or kyoko back to life. He can’t apologize to them. There is NO forgiveness here as kyoko said!. Hence, the writer will brilliantly make kyo fall so hard & reach rock bottom so bad before he stands up again!! It matches his personality too!! He’s a person who struggles in expressing himself verbally, gets overwhelmed with emotions, stubborn, hard on himself & fiery in nature. Moreover, due to his trauma, he harbors very low self-esteem & due to his guilt, he is drenched in self-loath.

-The addiction of destructive coping mechanism ( Writing Brilliancy):

Kyo has one of the most destructive coping mechanism in the show. Similarly to what his father did by illogically dumping all the blame of the mom’s suicide on 4 year old child, which resulted in hurting kyo, kyo adopted his dad’s ways & dumped it all on yuki. Illogical. wrong. but it works!! it numbs this tingling sense of guilt, it puts the voice that goes “ you’re unforgivable” temporarily to sleep. All the hate is on someone else. not me. I’m not a monster. does it work all the time? NO. cuz NO drug does! All drugs has this temporary effect, that unless you break away from, will end up destroying you. “don’t you want it that way? you wouldn’t want to have anyone to hate?“  I’m still confused if this is kyoko or his mom. It has kyoko’s hair, the words are very harsh. Kyoko from kyo’s perspective shifts between extremely kind & cruelly harsh! but regardless, the truth has been spoken. Kyo’s eyes are opened. He can’t force blind himself anymore. he does NOT hate yuki. he “ acts like hating yuki is sth you needs to do”, as shigure said! hating yuki is his way to escape from his destructive self-loath. He hasn’t been hating or fighting yuki for a long while, he tries now, one more fight, one more dose of the drug, let the pain go away! Nope. Yuki is not participating, yuki is in the light now. You are drenched in the darkness, as unforgivable as you are. Monster eyes & all. Kyo breaks the window to break away from the memory. from this point on, it escalates to rock bottom as the drug is no longer working & hating himself with no escape is all he’s left with.

-Protecting leading to hurting:

yuki brings kyo attention that while he’s been hard on himself & resisting change, he is hurting tohru. Sth kyo chose confinement in oder to NOT do. Kyo being distant from class activities “life” is his choice. Tohru suffering is a consequence to that choice. Kyo, once again, overwhelmed by tohru’s desire to include him in their activities “ life”. Helplessly & painfully looking at her & acknowledging yuki’s words. Kyo in one of his most vulnerable moments, matched only by true form hug scene, is desperate for a hug. Not only cuz he loves her, but cuz he needs her, cuz he’s so tried of himself, cuz she’s so endearingly stupid waiting for him all by herself when she could’ve easily caught him home!! Ugh! tohru! T_T. Except this time, kyo is aware of his surroundings, it’s school, no place for transformation. As kyo decides to change his position from hug to head rest, he stares so intently in her eyes. Embracing her with his presence. For a moment there I felt weird. Like I was intruding on a personal moment between two ppl. XD. This moment was this excellently weird mix of tenderly romantic, bittersweet cuz they cant be together hug, & sexually tensed! one of the most successful kyoru moment that truly depicted emotions visually without needing much dialogue!

Side Notes:

kyo/yuki interaction was their most honest, filter-free & raw moment! each said what he really felt. yuki’s directly telling kyo to complain to him, which kyo did. yuki urging kyo to see that punishing himself hurts tohru.

I appreciate that Yuki won’t tell tohru now, cuz it will ruin their progress towards a better balanced relationship. Tohru’s lid hasn’t even been touched, so she would be cautious interacting with him. But once she opens her lid, her self-worth increase & her desire to focus on herself more is ignited!, she’ll listen to him without taking his burden as hers. just like kakeru did. Equal friends.

I wanted to talk deeper abt machi & yuki, but didn’t want it to be overshadowed by kyo’s analysis. Next time for sure!

I love how the writer included the most spontaneous flirting moment between kyo & tohru right after yuki explained that he saw her non-romantically. The writer wants the comparison to be clear cutting ties to any love-triangle misunderstanding that might linger from previous scenes. Moreover, it showed yuki fully & genuinely accepting kyoru!!

I’ll never be over tohru acting like normal teenager & chasing kyo, trying to catch the script!!!! These small moments while having not much effect on the grand plot, help depict tohru with her own feisty style of stubbornness beyond the one-sided kind image we always see.

This ep has well-written & visually appealing scenes. Visual imagery were well-implemented in kyo/yuki scene & kyo/tohru last scene.

Thank you anime for drawing tohru older, pretty & more mature in the final scene. She looked like a woman in love & silently in pain. My baby is growing!

Why is kyoko holding the hat in KYO’s flashback!!!! she’s wearing the same white dress from yuki’s memory?? What the heck is the hat’s story?!!!

#Fruits Basket #Anime Only #satisfied paper

[nerdygaymormon]

Sometimes I really hate being Bi. I know know the Church is true and I'll never leave it, but man is it a struggle. I started to think I was Bi on my Mission, and wow, that was scary. Ever since I got home, little over a year ago, I feel like I'm attracted to women more and more and I hate it. (I know I'm Bi and not Lesbian.) I see a cute gal, and I want cuddles and dates, and so many other things, but I can't act on it. (Especially since I'm at BYUI.) Do you have any tips on not hating yourself

Everyone has some things about themselves they don’t like or about which they’re hyper-critical. Often these are about not living up to our ideals, actions we wish we had or hadn’t done, not living up to some societal ideal, about a failure in our life. This is normal and part of being human. 

Queer people in particular must deal with self-hatred that goes beyond just a normal part of being human. We grow up hearing negative messages about people like us and we internalize those messages. And often we have an inner voice that is authoritative and may sound like our parents or religious leaders and thus when it speaks to us, that voice gives those messages extra heft. These things cause us to see ourselves as lesser and to feel shame over our feelings and how we experience life. 

An important part of unraveling this self-loathing is to recognize the negative messages, refute them, and replace them. 

For example, your world won’t end just because you’re bi. Some people may view you differently if they find out, but a lot of people will continue to respect and love you. Perhaps you’ll lose some people, but you will not lose everything and everybody you care about.

That’s recognizing and refuting the negative messages, now let’s replace them. Being bi is a wonderful part of what makes me the person I am and I’m lucky because it brings many important gifts into my life. I can find beauty and love that others miss. 

When you’re at church or school and hear a negative message about queer people, push back against it. You can raise your hand and speak up. If you’re not feeling brave in that moment, it’s okay, and explain to yourself why that comment was wrong and replace it with a positive comment. 

Another thing you may have heard is that being gay or bi is a choice or the result of a lack of faith or some other reason. Fact is that it’s biological and a natural part of this world. This is literally how we’re made. 

Associate with other LGBTQIA people. 

I always feel so much better after I’ve been with other queer people. Being with them helps fight the things I was taught about the queer community, I can see & experience that they are normal people. They are fun, loving, caring, and supportive, exactly the opposite of what I’d been told. You can attend USGA-Rexburg and there’s a new resource center going up in town. 

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints spends quite a bit of time teaching and celebrating early pioneers. It’s quite a legacy and something to be proud of. The same is true of the queer community, we have amazing pioneers. We are a brave people. You have claim to two incredible legacies. Read about some of our queer Mormon heroes of the last decade.

Shame withers in sunshine

If you’re not yet out to friends and family, that’s okay, you have a blog and can write about your experiences and thoughts online. You can also find & connect with other queer Mormons. 

One thing I’ve experienced, which has surprised me is that as I write and post about things of which I was embarrassed, the shame associated with them goes away. By sharing with others, it is no longer a secret that needs to be hidden, but something I’m taking ownership of. 

If you’re awesome on paper, then you’re awesome in person

I used to know that I could write things on paper about myself that would sound great, but I didn’t have positive feelings about them. That person on the paper looked good, but somehow I didn’t have those same feelings about myself. I was the first person in my family to get a college degree, I now have an MBA, I served a mission, I am the favorite uncle in my family, I play the piano, I am kind and trusted and so on. 

Learn to draw boundaries

Often when we don’t feel great about ourselves, we make up for that by seeking the approval of others, more so than is usual or healthy. We end up agreeing to do things we may not want to do just so that we seem agreeable and worthy of their approval, even from people we don’t care about that much. There is power in being able to say “no.” Schedule time to get your school work done, to participate in activities you enjoy, in having time for friends, for contributing to the community. You can agree to spend time helping others with things they want, but protect your boundaries and don’t overstretch yourself. 

Boundaries also are important when it comes to people and messages you associate with. Try to find allies and queer people that you can associate with. Even if you’re not “out,” you can present yourself as an ally and be with people who express positivity about queerness. 

You don’t have to accept everything you hear at church, what church leaders have said, or even all the “doctrine.” Church leaders have been tragically wrong in the past, they are not perfect conveyers of the love of our Heavenly Parents. You don’t have to believe the terrible things taught about LGBTQ people. I know this is easier said than done. It helps if you’ve experienced God’s love for you, or if you’ve thought about how illogical it would be for loving Heavenly Parents to send queer children to earth with no way for them to express who they are or to have happiness. We are supposed to experience joy in this life. 

Take care of your health

When I met with a psychologist because I was suicidal and also wanted help with my internalized homophobia and low-self esteem, the first things we discussed were if I was getting enough sleep, was I eating a healthy diet, was I getting exercise. Our physical well-being contributes to our mental well-being. Sometimes a good cry is what I need to express the feelings I’m having, followed by a nap, then I feel much better. 

Allow for growth and forgiveness

We all learn and change and grow. As others grow in understanding and do better, allow them the grace of forgiveness by recognizing things said by their past selves were said in ignorance and recognize the growth they’ve undergone. This also applies to you and your past self. 

A common exercise that helps is to think of what you would say to someone else in a similar position. So often we speak of love and acceptance and not being hard on themselves, and it’s pretty great advice which we could apply to ourselves. Another exercise is to have a picture of our younger self, or even of just some young person around ages 5~12, and know that they are going to grow up queer, what advice would you give them? You deserve the same compassion, kindness and love that you show to others. 

Growth and change also happens to our faith. Here’s a post where I shared about faith transitions and I found it very helpful in understanding how I experience my faith is different from my family, it’s because we’re in different stages. 

Take pride in trying, not in failure or success

Coming out is freaking hard and takes a lot of courage. Like a lot of things in life, many people attempt to do this and then fail, they back down, the moment feels wrong, they get panicked, or whatever reason. Failure isn’t the worst thing, not trying is. And the more we try, the more successes we’ll eventually have. And once you have some wins under your belt, it gets easier to do those things that were once hard. 

When being bi brings happiness, it’s easier to love this about yourself

For so many people, being queer is only associated with negative things in their life, but when you can start associating it with positive things it becomes easier to accept and love this part of yourself. When you have queer friends, when you have experienced the excitement of a crush on a boy and on a girl, when you go on dates, or someone sends a message that your posts about your feelings really helped them, those positive experiences will be associated with being bi. 

Add voices and writings that affirm you and your experiences

So often scriptures are used as a weapon against queer people. A lot of people think they know what the Bible says about queer people based on a few verses pulled out of context, but they’ve not put in any real study to the original language, situation or what those verses read like when put back in context. Nor are they aware that there’s also positive scriptures about queer people. I put together a collection of things I learned that I hope will help others. 

This year I’ve really been enjoying the Beyond the Block podcast, which has a Black man and a gay man discuss each week’s Come, Follow Me lesson. I also have liked the Faithful Feminists podcast. Both of those podcast highlight principles and concepts from the scriptures which are important for marginalized people. 

Find blogs, podcasts, books, videos, lectures, classes, twitter accounts and whatever else that helps affirm you and helps you understand yourself.

#queerstake

[yastaghr]

Nightmare’s Gang of Wranglers 3

Summary: The first ride and the first camp are achieved. The fire brings out something new in everyone.

Link: The first ride and the first camp are achieved. The fire brings out something new in everyone.

The first ride of the trip was always the most problematic. This trip was no exception. Nightmare had sighed when Ink had lost his stirrups the first time. The next three times had been annoying. After that it had ceased to be annoying and started to become funny. Rustle wasn’t going to let him fall, and it wasn’t like Nightmare himself hadn’t ridden without stirrups before. Just so long as he kept his heels down Nightmare would be happy.

But that was just the start of the problems. Dream was turning out to be just as annoying as he knew he’d be, but for an entirely different problem. That problem had a name. His name was Cross. Cross, apparently, hadn’t taken enough heed of all the stories Nightmare had shared with his gang about Dream. Cross was too thirsty for that. He was taking full advantage of his position behind Dream to watch his ass. Yes, he said it was because he wanted to be sure of the other’s seat, but Nightmare knew better. One, he knew that Dream’s seat was impeccable, and two, he could see the purple blush on Cross’ cheeks. He was just lucky that Dream didn’t notice. He would only pay for ogling a client, not for trying to go behind Killer’s and Nightmare’s backs.

The next problem was Dust. It was always like this; as soon as he thought Nightmare had gone out of his hearing range he started talking to his brother. Nightmare sighed. Blue didn’t seem too disturbed, but that couldn’t be said of his pony. Berry hadn’t ridden near Dust recently, so the gelding must have forgotten about his chattering. His ears were constantly swiveled back, but Blue seemed to be handling him well. His seat was good and his hands were soft even as he maintained control over the horse. That made Nightmare feel better about letting him stay there.

The last problem, and one that Nightmare had been predicting, was Ink’s paints. Their sloshing around was scaring the pack train. Blood and Sugar eventually had the whole line stop so they could redistribute the load. That seemed to calm down the mules, but Cherry was being his usual spooky self. That was okay. They were used to Cherry’s spookiness.

Nightmare was impressed when they made the first stopping place in reasonable time. He had allowed for much more malarky than actually occurred. Unfortunately it looked like they needed that time. The camp was in shambles. If Nightmare had to guess he would have said that a herd of elk had bedded down there recently. The trees were still leaking sap, the grass was laid flat by the weight of those sleeping bodies, and the tents that were the sleeping areas were torn to the ground. Nightmare sighed. It would take at least an hour to fix everything.

His crew immediately ground tied their horses and got to work. Dust and Blood saw to the grass, fluffing it up so that the horses could actually eat. Cross set to gathering firewood and wiping down the trees. Sugar looked after the pack train. Error used his strings to fix the tents, and Killer helped Ink to dismount. Dream and Blue had gotten down and were looking around.

“How can we help, brother?” Dream said instantly, Blue right beside him. Nightmare blinked his one eye at him. He hadn’t expected them to want to help.

“Why don’t you… help Sugar unload the food for tonight?” He eventually said. He still didn’t trust his brother, not after what he had done, but he knew that unpacking the mules would be very hard to mess up.

Dream and Blue nodded, ground tied their horses, and walked calmly over to Sugar. Good. They at least knew better than to spook the horses.

=====

Killer’s soft voice interrupted his focus on his brother. “Somebody’s got a crush, huh?”

Nightmare spun to face him. Killer had his signature grin on his face, and his soul was beating at a speed Nightmare recognized as happy. Nightmare relaxed slightly and said, “I didn’t realise Cross was being so obvious. He’s been ogling Dream’s ass this entire time.”

Killer chuckled. Nightmare didn’t see what was so funny. “Yeah, Cross. The big guy’s always had a soft spot for people who dote on the horses.”

Nightmare tilted his head. He didn’t particularly remember Cross being like that in the past, but Killer was miles away more observant than he was. That was why Nightmare trusted him to be his second in command. He was a general; Killer was his chief of intelligence. Neither of them could operate without the other. And they both needed Cross to keep the peace between them and guard against the dangers of the road.

“Well, he’d better be prepared to meet the consequences of his actions. Dream is a client, and he is definitely not a part of our relationship. What would you say would be an appropriate punishment? 15 lashes?”

Killer grinned. If there was ever a monster who was the definition of a sadist, it was Killer.  “Oh, at least. I’d say we edge him a few times, too.”

Nightmare shook his head. He had the final say in this, and he thought that that was going a bit too far. “It’s only been a few hours, Killer. If he continues this behaviour tomorrow, then we can think about edging him. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir!” Killer said, saluting. Then he wandered off to begin unsaddling the horses for the night and getting everything ready for supper.

=====

Blue was fascinated by the fire. He could vaguely hear the rest of the Star Sanses and Nightmare’s Gang moving around, setting up things for the night, cooking food on the other side of the fire, and, in Ink’s case, chattering away. None of that really mattered to him right now, though. His whole attention was consumed by the fire.

It had been so long since he had seen an untamed fire like this. When he was younger he saw them every weekend while his Dad was still alright and well. Then, after his accident, Blue had seen them every night as he struggled to raise a child all on his own. Then Stretch had grown up enough to say he hated the smell of smoke and that was that. Blue hadn’t realized how much he missed it until now.

Blue’s hypnotized state ended when one of Nightmare’s Gang sat next to him and passed him a cup. Blue looked into it. It seemed to have… ketchup?

“Here, drink it. I’ve never met a Sans who didn’t like a condiment, and you’re pretty cute, so enjoy,” The stranger said. His voice was deeper than Blue would have pictured, deeper and hoarser. Blue would have predicted the hoarseness after all of the talking this monster had done today.

Blue honestly wasn’t sure who the monster behind him had been talking to, but he couldn’t judge. One of his best friends still hadn’t stopped talking. Ink would have been hoarse had he been a normal monster. He wasn’t.  It wasn’t that he was crazy. Ink was the kind of anomaly that rules had to be built around. So was the dark boned skeleton Blue recognized from a few years ago. Now if only Blue knew his n-

“What’s your name, anyway? I’m Sans, obviously, but most people call me Dust. Not my brother, though. He still calls me Sans,” Dust said with a grin, his mismatched eye lights shining bright. The concentric rings of red and purple were almost as fascinating as the fire.

“I’m Blue,” he said, startled, “Technically it’s Dr. Blue, but I don’t actually practice at the moment, so most people call me Blue. My brother calls me Sans, though, too.”

The wide smile that shone from Dust’s skull was dazzling. Blue’s eye lights widened as he took it in. Wow, Dust was cute. A blush spread across Blue’s maxilla, along with a hesitant smile. Maybe he could do something about that? Stretch wouldn’t be happy, but he already wasn’t happy about this little trip. What would be the harm in having a little fun?

“Well, Dr. Blue, I’d love to have you examine me sometime,” Dust said, waggling his brow bones.

Oh, that was flirting! Blue knew what to do with flirting. He batted his eyelids back at Dust and leaned in. “Oh, I’d be happy to. I’m sure you have some pieces of your anatomy that can fascinate me for hours. I might even have one or two suggestions that would make your life more… pleasurable! Mweh heh heh heh!”

=====

Ink overheard his friend laughing and grinned from ear to ear. “Yay, Blue! I’m glad he’s feeling good enough to laugh. He’s always so stuffy! That was one of the reasons we took this trip; to make Blue relax a bit! He-”

“Stars, do you ever shut up?” Error growled. He was securing the last string to the ground with some kind of spike. Ink didn’t know the names of any of this stuff, and he barely knew Error’s name. As far as he was aware he had never left the city before. Then again, his memory was absolutely horrible. Not as bad as Blue’s dad’s, but still objectively horrible. Good thing he wasn’t objective!

“Nope!” Ink said, popping the p. “I don’t like it when things are quiet at all! It’s super scary and makes me feel isolated and alone in a place where no one can rescue me. The same thing happens if I see too much of the color white! It’s kind of a trigger, so I fill up the silence with as much noise as I can and make lots of art! I’m constantly repainting the walls of my apartment, and I always have some music playing at home.”

Error was giving Ink the funniest look. It was almost… sympathetic? Curiosity sparked in Ink’s mind. Why would anyone relate to an experience like that? Ink was about to ask when Error spoke up. “That’s stupid. You’ve got actual friends, idiot. They’re not going to abandon you.”

Ink nodded. “I know that, but that’s not how triggers work. Triggers are totally illogical. They’re weird little psychological phenomena that we don’t fully understand. A trigger can be anything from the smell of lilacs, to the taste of chemo medicine, to the feeling of tulle between your toes, to the sight of a specific crack on the ceiling of your house, to-”

“The sound of door locks? Those ones with a full bar you lock into place with a key?” Error asked suddenly.

Ink took in the sight of him. Error looked haunted. Interesting. Ink’s curiosity made him a promise: he would find out everything about Error and his past that he could to satisfy his own curiosity. If he was going to do that, however, he needed to win Error’s trust.

“Yeah! That’s definitely something that could be a trigger,” Ink said, then he went on, “and it’s not like you’d have to know why it was a trigger, either. Sometimes we just have something that’s triggering to us without any explanation. Dream is that way about moles. The little furry animal, I mean. Totally sends him into a panic attack whenever they show up in a nature documentary we’re watching. Blue now likes to pre-screen any movies we’re going to see, just in case. Actually, he pre-screens them for a lot of things. Useless sex scenes, for one.”

Error snorted. Ink blinked at him, feeling an unfamiliar paint combination roll over him. He couldn’t have put a name to it, but there were bits of yellow, pink, and green in there. Yellow was happiness of all sorts, pink was affection or love, and green was the need for something. It could be the need for information, or food, or a plan, or… anything, really.

“Don’t,” Error snorted, “Don’t tell me you’re one of those sex purists who thinks you should only have sex after marriage. That’s so stupid.”

Ink laughed his own unique laugh that couldn’t decide between being a chuckle and a giggle. “No, I just think that those stupid sex scenes take away from the body of the story. Sometimes they’re good, but mostly they’re just put in for horny fans. They don’t even make any sense. People just don’t hop into bed with perfect strangers at the drop of the hat. At least, not any sane people. Not that sanity’s earned its good ratings, mind you.”

“Well that’s true,” Error agreed with distaste. “Sex shouldn’t be some kind of spectacle for anyone to see. I know I wouldn’t want anyone but my lover or lovers to see me like that. I might be the most handsome skeleton in existence, but that doesn’t mean I want to show myself off.”

It was Ink’s turn to snort. “You? Handsome? Your bones are black, Error. Don’t you know that the darker your bones are the less handsome of a skeleton you are?”

Error’s grin was absolutely crazy, and Ink couldn’t help but mirror it. It looked like so much fun! “That’s what they want you to think! After all, so many people are cursed with white bones. They had to come up with some way to boost everyone’s egos. Telling them that white bones are best is a good PR spin! I bet even you believe it about your own bones!”

Ink blinked at him, then slipped out of his overshirt and bared his bones. They were covered in patterns, almost random, that had more black to them than white. “It’s not like my bones are all white, though. I guess that means that, by your definition, I’m ugly, too! Oh well.”

Error’s larger eye light was now almost as wide as his socket. The other one, the grey one, had wandered off. Ink wondered if he could even see out of that eye or if he just had lazy eye. Either way it was disconcerting. “Well… you’re not that ugly. You’re less ugly than all those bleached-boned idiots in the movies. After all, you have some black on there. And the contrast looks… kind of nice, if a bit blurry. D’ya mind taking a step back?”

“Why?” Ink asked, tilting his head curiously.

“It’s none of your business why, chatterbox!” Error screeched, “Just do it!”

Ink sighed. He’d been doing so well with winning Error over, but nothing worth doing was worth doing too fast. He stepped back a few paces. “Alright, Error. Is this good?”

Error was too busy studying Ink’s patterns to answer. Ink studied his expression, committing it to memory. It was so… fascinating… the way he was staring at Ink. The play of light on the black bone of his skull was so enchanting, and the lines of his mouth were inviting in a way Ink couldn’t place. He longed to sketch it. Maybe later, after dinner, although the fire wouldn’t be  the ideal light source. Needs must, though!

=====

Killer grinned as everyone took up their positions around the fire. The small blue skeleton and Dust were already seated, flirting with each other like there was no tomorrow. The artist and Error were arguing, but it involved more words out of Error than Killer had heard the entire time he’d been working for them. Blood and Sugar were sitting as far apart as they could stand, cooking the food and shooting each other longing glances. Cross was sitting at attention next to Dream and shooting him the most adoring looks. Dream seemed just about as oblivious as Nightmare could be. He was staring into space, zoning out. That left Killer to work on Nightmare. Perfect.

“Hey, Boss~” Killer purred as he slid in next to Nightmare, taking one of his tentacles into his hands and slowly massaging it. It was tense as hell. It was pretty obvious who was causing their leader so much stress. His eye light was fixed on Dream like it had been nailed in place.

“Yes, Killer?” Nightmare said distractedly, his eye light not leaving Dream, “What is it?”

Killer brought the tentacle up to his teeth, kissing it. “The tension in your aura is palpable, Boss. You need to relax a bit. Let me lavish you with all the attention you so richly deserve.”

Nightmare turned to face him, his eyebrow raised and his one eye light showing Killer his amusement. “Laying it on a little thick tonight, aren’t you? What are you trying to do, impress me? You know you already do. Or are you trying to distract me from Cross’ misbehaviour? I can see him over there. He’s acting like a lovestruck teenager.”

So are you, Killer thought to himself, a lovestruck teenager that’s fallen in love with his biggest rival. Out loud he said, “If you want to say that about Cross you have to say that about all of them. Dust is flirting with that small blue one like it’s his favorite hobby, Blood and Sugar are doing their Romeo and Juliet act, and Error is arguing so much with that artist that I wouldn’t be surprised if his voice wasn’t hoarse tomorrow.”

“The small one is called Blue and the artist’s name is Ink,” Nightmare said absently.

Killer blinked at him, then smiled his most winning smile - the one he wore when he was trying not to get caught at something sketchy. “You know, it would probably be a good idea if we introduced everyone before matching people up for the night. Why don’t I get everyone’s attention and you can tell people who they’ll be sleeping with?”

Nightmare tore his eye light off of Dream just long enough to narrow it at Killer. Then he sighed and shrugged. “Fine, then. No knives, though. I know you like to show off, but please, save it for another time.”

Killer saluted with the half-ironic, half-serious form that drove Nightmare crazy. “Got it, Boss!”

Then he turned to the center of the fire everyone was gathered around, raised his hands to his mouth, and hollered, “Heylalo, skellies! Listen up, the boss has something to say!”

Eight heads turned to face him with expressions that varied from annoyance to curiosity to mildly dissociative. Killer frowned slightly. Blood he could understand, but why would Dream be dissociating? Had something happened to him since he and Nightmare parted ways? Or was it just the general absentmindedness of a normal monster? Killer vowed to find out.

Nightmare’s grunt interrupted his thoughts. Killer turned to face his handsome datemate and listened closely to the orders of the night. “Now that I have your attention, I’m going to introduce you all and tell you who you’ll be sleeping with. Remember that these arrangements might change as the trip goes on, so if you can’t handle sleeping with someone please let me know. Blood, Sugar,” He pointed to the two of them in turn, “you’ll be sleeping together in the red tent. Ink, Blue,” Again he pointed to each of them in turn, “You’ll be sleeping in the blue tent. Killer, Dream,” He signaled who each of them was, “you have the yellow tent. Error, Dust, please take the black tent,” He gestured at both of them. “Finally, Cross and myself will take the green tent. My name is Nightmare. Now, does anyone have any questions?”

The boss studied each face in turn, as did Killer. They would compare notes later.

Cross was blushing and averting his eyes from Nightmare’s face. He knew he was in trouble for today, but that didn’t stop him from looking forward to being punished. It never had before.

Blue was looking at Dust with longing and a flushed face. The expression was mutual. Interesting. Maybe they should be paired up in a tent tomorrow night. Dust could use a bit of a chance to unwind.

Ink had clearly lost interest in the conversation. He was looking around at the clearing with his hand twitching in the air. Long strokes, short curves, and forceful jabs would have painted a picture if Ink had only been holding a paintbrush. Killer would have bet any amount of money that he was already planning a drawing or two of their surroundings. Artists were like that.

Blood was eyeing the food with hunger, as usual. After what he had been through it was hardly a surprise. Sugar was beaming at his brother. Only his practiced eye told Killer that he was ready for their night’s more… intimate activities. Hopefully this time they wouldn’t get caught.

Dream was eyeing Killer with something like anxiety, except moreso. It almost looked like fear. It did look exactly like the expression Nightmare had turned on him the first time they’d been asked to share a tent. Huh.

Finally, there was Error. Error, as usual, was grumbling to himself. Killer knew exactly what he was upset about. He hated having to share a tent with anyone. He was always on edge, worried that they were going to bump into him in the night. He knew better by now, though, than to complain. Nightmare had no sympathy for his disgust at the touch of others anymore. No one had ever touched him at night. That wasn’t going to change.

Nightmare nodded when he was satisfied that no one was going to complain. “Good. Now, Blood, please serve out tonight’s food to everyone. It’s time to eat.”

#bad sanses #star sanses #errorink #dustberry #killercreammare #error sans #ink sans #dust sans #underswap sans #killer sans #cross sans #xtale sans #dream sans #nightmare sans #wranglers au #nightmares gang of wranglers fic #yastaghr

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders Characters: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, switched!au, Dark Sides As Family (Sanders Sides), Sympathetic Sides (Sanders Sides), Morality | Patton Sanders is a Sweetheart, Virgil is doing his best, roman and logan aren't sure what to think about the new guy, janus is totally a dad but he only shows up for a couple of paragraphs, Fluff and Angst, It's not too angsty, for once, yes the title is from Descendants, remus isn't unsympathetic he just has zero social awareness, Happy Ending, Ambiguous/Open Ending, it's just a bit of a cliffhanger, it makes a second part possible but it's not exactly necessary Summary:

Anxiety, overly curious and maybe a little too confident, explores the subconscious. There, he comes face-to-face with Thomas’ Dark Sides. But after the horrid stories the Light Sides have told Anxiety, he’s baffled by what he’s found.

4k story posted below as well :)

It was a ridiculous oxymoron of sorts, but Anxiety loved exploring.

Virgil had a feeling that somewhere, in some alternate universe, he would hate the mere idea of leaving his small bubble of familiarity and safety. He didn’t think about that a lot, though. It didn’t matter; Thomas had grown up embracing Virgil’s input and warnings. Just beneath the surface of Thomas’ mind, he had dealt with his best friends’ antics and adventures (and was usually tasked with trying to get them out of the problems they got themselves into). He’d wake up and make his way down to the mindscape commons, the imaginary replica of Thomas’ apartment living room. The smell of breakfast would be wafting through the air, along with a steady stream of chatter. Maybe a clang or two.

Virgil was happy.

And he was bored as all hell.

Now, Virgil loved Thomas with everything he was; he was never going to stop helping Thomas. And there were times when Virgil was run into the ground with exhaustion, when he’d spent days and sometimes weeks stressing about upcoming events.

But there were other times when Virgil felt he hardly existed. When Thomas would summon the others and Virgil wouldn’t be invited to the conversation. When Thomas was relaxing without a care in the world and Virgil felt numb with how little his influence was needed.

He loved Thomas and he loved the other sides, but all too often he didn’t feel like he was a part of their comfortable conversations and peaceful musings.

So, naturally, Virgil explored the subconscious.

The idea simmered into existence in his mind when he was scrolling through his phone one morning, curled up on the couch. The television was playing some horror movie. He wasn’t watching, unlike the enraptured Creativity at his feet.

“That’s my cue,” Janus said from across the couch. He stood, placing his book down. Virgil and Remus looked over at him, and Virgil felt Remus tense next to him.

“Thomas!” the creative side chirped, with a wide, toothy grin. “Beat you there, Janny!” He sunk out. Janus sighed. He looked over at Virgil.

“Will you be there, today?” he asked. Virgil shrugged.

“If he wants me,” he replied.

Janus frowned. “And if he does?”

“Then I’m sure he’ll summon me.”

Janus didn’t look happy with that response, but he didn’t argue. He sank after Remus. Virgil remained on the couch.

It was then Virgil wondered what would happen if he knew other sides. Then when Janus and Remus were both needed by Thomas, Virgil could still have company in the empty mindscape.

Then he thought about Thomas’ subconscious.

The pieces just kind of... merged.

Now, Virgil had no idea how to  get  to the subconscious. He knew it was dangerous, from what Janus had told him. The embodiment of self preservation had never ventured anywhere near the idea of tampering with the subconscious. He hated the idea of the sides hiding in the darkness of Thomas’ mind that would corrupt him if they were ever brought to light.

Remus never said much about it, even when Virgil asked. The first few times Virgil had mentioned the existence of any other sides he’d looked at Virgil like he’d just suggested Thomas should step in front of a moving train. Virgil hadn’t brought that conversation topic up very much around Remus after that, but on the few occasions he’d slipped up, Remus had acted arguably more vehemently. One time he’d taken Virgil by the shoulders and pressed him against the wall he’d been standing in front of. His eyes had been wide with some wild emotion Virgil couldn’t work out. He’d gotten Virgil to swear never to bring it up again. Virgil had listened.

Until now, he guessed.

Now, he really wanted to know what was going on in the subconscious.

He found the basement and sunk down through it. It was strange, like rising up into Thomas’ real living room, except much slower and a little muddled, like sinking through mud.

He rose up into darkness.

Well, it wasn’t totally dark. He could make out the ground beneath his feet. It seemed smooth and clean enough; no sludge or blood or anything as disturbing as Virgil had wondered about. It was weird. But interesting. Maybe Remus wasn’t totally correct when he’d said that the subconscious was a horrible place full of horrible monsters and nightmares.

Careful, he thought to himself. You arrived five seconds ago.

There didn’t seem to be any light sources around, nor anything at all.

So Virgil walked.

A few times he may have seen shadows shifting and moving in the corner of his eyes, but not once was he attacked. No once did he fear for his life. A few times he got a little on edge when he thought he saw the glint of glowing eyes or heard footsteps behind him. But he wasn’t petrified. He wasn’t shaking. He wasn’t any of the things Janus had told him he would be if he found himself in the subconscious.

What if you can’t get out? a voice inside Virgil’s head whispered, and that made him pause. That was concerning. But illogical. Why wouldn’t he be able to sink out or something he sunk into? And he couldn’t test it out, now — he’d just gotten here! No backing out.

He didn’t know when or how it happened, but it must have been a few minutes until Virgil realised there were walls on either side of him. A hallway. Virgil steps muffled into carpet.

He walked to the open room ahead, passing frames hung on the walls, but the environment was still too dark to see anything in great detail.

The living room he emerged into was... not what he expected. It wasn’t a dungeon. It wasn’t rotting and falling apart. It wasn’t smeared in blood and guts.

It was Thomas’ living room, if he never paid his electric bills. It was missing the paintings and a few of the memorabilia on the bookshelf, but it was almost  nice, in a way. It felt a little off, if Virgil had to describe it, but it didn’t trigger the huge bouts of anxiety that Remus had told him it would.

Virgil peered curiously at the bookshelf, smiling to himself. Was that one of Thomas’ old school trophies? Who knew that would be here?

“Oh!”

The sound of shattering crockery made Virgil whirl.

The first thing he saw was the broken plate parts scattered across the carpet. He winced. That was going to be a pain to clean up. His gaze moved up to the side who’d been carrying them.

“Sorry,” he said, straightening up. “I shouldn’t be here. I was just exploring, and—”

“Oh, no, no!” the side said, beaming. Virgil tilted his head. Maybe he had naturally bright eyes, but it did look suspiciously like he was close to crying. Virgil hoped not; he was  not  the side to get caught with in the middle of a breakdown. “You can stay! You can mostly certainly stay, kiddo! Uh, here, don’t worry about the plates, um—”

He gingerly stepped over the mess Virgil had caused him to make, and rushed over to clasp Virgil’s hands between his. Beaming, he tugged Virgil forward. Virgil followed without complaint, but his hands burned where the side touched him. He wondered if that was normal. His friends weren’t nearly as physically affectionate as this side was currently being.

He let himself be led into the kitchen, where the side parted from him in favour of bounding over to the fridge. He had a lot of energy, Virgil noted. It reminded him almost of Remus, with less noise. He wasn’t as loud as Remus. That was.... good, actually. Sometimes the creative side’s antics did get a little much.

He rubbed his hands together, thinking about the strange sensation the hand-holding had left behind. He distantly heard Janus’ voice, telling him to stop fidgeting, and instead opting to shove them into his pockets to cease the nervous habit.

“What would you like, kiddo?” the side asked. Virgil blinked.

“Uh— what?” he asked.

The side leant back from the fridge. “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked.

Virgil opened and closed his mouth. “I— you’re feeding me?”

The side’s eyes widened. “You are eating over there, right?”

Virgil’s mind was racing. ‘Over there’? Did he mean... the mindscape? And why was he offering food? Virgil had practically broken into their home. Why was he being treated as a guest?

“Yeah,” he said after realising the side was watching him with round, concerned eyes. “Yeah, of course I am.”

The side relaxed with an easy smile. “Good!” he chirped. “So, what do you want?”

“To eat?” Virgil asked, and the side nodded brightly. “Um, I’m good, thanks. I don’t want anything.”

“You don’t?” the side asked. Virgil shook his head. “Oh.” His shoulders sagged and Virgil was worried he’d upset him, but not a second later he was beaming once more. “That’s okay! What can I do for you?”

Virgil didn’t know how to reply. What was this guy’s deal? Why was he acting as if he owed Virgil a favour? Why wasn’t he even a little baffled about Virgil’s appearance?

“Patton, who are you talking to?” called out a voice from the stairs. Mild panic spiked Virgil’s chest. Of course there was more than one Dark Side. He’d forgotten about that. This strange side had completely distracted him. “You didn’t bring in another stray animal, did you? I have told you before, those creatures are not—”

The new side stopped short of walking into the kitchen. He was tall — taller than Janus, but not quite reaching Remus’ height. He was wearing glasses, similar ones to the ones on... Patton’s face? Was his name Patton? Did the Dark Sides have names? Like Virgil and his friends?

“Ah.” The new side cleared his throat and adjusted the tie hanging loosely from his neck. “I see you’re not a stray animal.”

“Nope,” Virgil agreed.

“Is there any reason that you seemed to have found your way into our side of Thomas’ mind?” the sharp-eyed side asked, a little stiffly in Virgil’s opinion.

“Logan,” the first side hissed, upset. He smiled, though, when Virgil turned to fully face him. “Be nice.”

“I don’t see why I must,” Logan replied. Patton sighed quietly, looking downtrodden.

“It’s polite,” he said, but it was a weak attempt at defense.

Logan rolled his eyes but Virgil jumped in before they could continue; he didn’t want them to fight, especially because of him.

“It’s alright,” he said, shrugging. “I can go. I was just exploring around. I won’t stay.”

“You won’t?” Patton asked.

“Of course he wouldn’t,” answered Logan, speaking as if Virgil wasn’t there. “Why would one willingly want to stay in the depths of Thomas’ mind?”

“Oh, stop it,” Patton said. His voice was light enough but Virgil senses an air of seriousness in his tone. Logan heaved a long-suffering sigh. “You can stay as long as you’d like, kiddo.”

“Virgil,” the anxious side told him. “That’s my name. Just call me Virgil.”

The two sides glanced at each other. Virgil wasn’t sure what that look meant.

“Well, Virgil,” Logan said, as if he was feeling the name on his tongue, “what are you here for?” Virgil frowned. Logan looked exasperated as he elaborated. “What are you going to do while you are here?”

Virgil didn’t feel very comfortable staying for any amount of time, now with this side interrogating him.

“Logan.” Patton was frowning at him. It was honestly kind of a scary look. He didn’t look like the type to get angry very often. He reached for Virgil, curling his fingers — which were startlingly cold — around his wrist and leading him out of the kitchen. Virgil followed him into the living room, where he sat down on the couch beside Patton.

“I’m sorry about him,” Patton said. He fidgeted with his hands. Virgil thought about how to reply, at a bit of a loss.

The sound of a door opening and closing came from back near the kitchen, followed by new footsteps. There  was  a door back there? Why hadn’t Virgil seen that? He’d just suddenly merged into the house.

“Bad day, Specs?” a voice asked in the kitchen.

“We have a visitor,” Logan’s voice responded. Virgil had a chance to brace himself before he was fixed with yet another pair of questioning eyes. He shifted uncomfortably as the baffled gaze quickly turned guarded. It wasn’t near as bad as Logan, who looked cold and calculating, but the slight sneer on this side’s face didn’t do him any favours.

“Well, that’s new,” he muttered.

“Roman, this is Virgil,” Patton said with a beaming and very pointed smile. The new side rolled his eyes with a scoff. He left the room up the stairs, and Logan swiftly followed.

Virgil watched them go, relaxing now that their hostilities had been taken away, but when he glanced at Patton, he looked... regretful.

“I’m sorry about them,” he said again, looking down at the carpet.

“Do they not like me because... I’m a light side?” Virgil asked. He didn’t like using that term, but it had been coined early on by Remus, and the name had stuck.

Patton gave him a sad look. “If we arrived suddenly in the mindscape, do you think that your friends would be very happy?”

That took Virgil slightly off-guard. What  would  they do? Remus never liked the idea of the subconscious. Maybe he’d get angry. He’d probably pull out his mace.

Janus was more difficult to read. He had never been thrilled with the idea of these other sides, either. Maybe he’d be disappointed. He’d look at Virgil like he’d done something wrong.

Virgil looked down. “No,” he answered glumly, and stood. “I should go.” He moved for the front door — because there was a front door there, now (where had it been when he’d arrived?) — and heard Patton standing behind him.

“Uh—!” Virgil glanced back. Patton shuffled, looking nervous. “I know today wasn’t a great introduction, or series of first impressions, or anything, but— if— uh—”

“What is it, Patton?” Virgil asked, trying to use the tone that Janus often used on him or Remus when they were stammering too much to make sense.

It must have worked, because Patton brightened, and when he spoke next it was clear, like he had gained the courage to speak. “If you ever want to come back, you’re welcome to!”

Virgil considered that. As unwelcoming as the other two sides had been, he found that he felt safe with Patton. He had this feel about him that calmed Virgil’s often high strung nature, and he looked like he was happy to see Virgil. It wasn’t what he’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t unwanted.

“I will,” he assured Patton, who shone like the sun in response.

Leaving the subconscious wasn’t nearly as hard as Virgil had begun to fear it would be. The moment he closed the door behind him, he thought about sinking out—

And arrived back in the living room, just like that. No resistance, no complications. Clear and smooth, as it always was. He was in the mindscape commons, just as he’d left them. It seemed the others weren’t back from filming yet.

Virgil slowly collapsed back onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling. He wasn’t unable to quieten the chattering thoughts circling his head for a long time.

 Visiting the subconscious a second time, he arrived just as he had the first time; no door, just the slowly materialising of a darkened hallway.

“Patton?” he called, peering into the kitchen. It had been about a week since he’d first adventured into the subconscious, so it wasn’t much of a surprise to see that the shattered plates, or mugs, or whatever Patton had dropped had been cleaned up. “Pat? You here?”

He crept into the living room and stopped short.

The third side Virgil had met while in the subconscious — shit, Virgil had already forgotten his name — was sitting on the couch, a half-spilled medicine kit splayed out beside him. He was in the middle of clumsily wrapping his arm in white bandages with his free hand. Virgil quickly averted his eyes from the nasty looking wound running along the side’s arm.

He must have made a sound, because the side looked up at him, noticing him for the first time. He caught Virgil very pointedly looking away from his arm.

“This world isn’t exactly just abyss and darkness,” he explained, rather snottily. “Unlike your perfect little world of light, we have to deal with prowling creatures that do this on a daily basis.” He lifted his arm for emphasis.

“Things that... do that... are outside?” Virgil asked, feeling his anxiety spike.

“Well, not today,” the side said flippantly. “I’ve already dealt with today’s demons.” He finished wrapping his arm and stood, stalking up to Virgil, who realised with a silent hiss of annoyance that he was a whole head taller than Virgil. “Apart from you, it seems.”

Virgil scowled at him. “I’m not a demon,” he protested. “And I wouldn’t do something like that.” He pointed to the side’s arm, who huffed. Virgil couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed or skeptical.

“I suppose not,” he muttered.

Roman, it turned out — and that name definitely sounded familiar now that Virgil had heard it again — left every day to scout for subconscious monsters. Apparently they were a mix of Thomas’ fears and doubts. He had a way of talking that made Virgil feel like he was doing something wrong by existing. It wasn’t particularly pleasant to listen to.

Roman had finished packing up the medical kit and turned to shove past Virgil when he’d frozen suddenly, staring intently down at him Virgil had stared back, completely baffled, and thought about asking if he had something on his face.

He must’ve, he quickly decided, when Roman dumped the kit on the dinner table (causing the lid to crack open and everything to spill out again) and seized Virgil’s chin in a startlingly strong hand.

Virgil’s first knee-jerk reaction was to instinctively punch, kick or headbutt the side in self defense and escape, but he was still so caught off-guard that he remained frozen. This left him to stand there uselessly and endure whatever attack Roman was going to inflict on him.

Nothing more happened, though; no piercing pain of a blade nor blow of a punch. All Roman did was slightly tilt Virgil’s head and study him with uncomfortably focused eyes. He didn’t even look like he wanted to start a fight. All of the anxious side’s personal bubble alarm bells were ringing off the hook, though.

“Are you wearing concealer?” Roman asked finally. As he spoke, he lifted Virgil’s chin (almost gently, which was weird)  up, still searching his face.

Recovering from his initial shock, Virgil pulled out of his grip and looked away grumpily. He didn’t reply.

“You cannot blend,” Roman told him.

Virgil shot him a withering glare. “Thanks.”

Roman scoffed with a roll of his eyes, but this time he was smirking. Why was he smirking? What had Virgil done? Should he leave? Go find Patton? Was this going to come back to bite him? Was he doomed to be subjected to teasing from all angles now about how he was—

“Let me do it for you!”

Virgil blinked, wondering if this was still the same side standing before him. “What?” he asked slowly.

Roman nodded seriously. “Yeah. You really need a good lesson on makeup.”

Aaand Virgil’s walls were shooting back up. He rolled his eyes. “Peh,” he spat, turning away. “Whatever.”

“Why do you wear it?” Roman asked curiously, and Virgil paused. What was this dude’s deal? Did he hate Virgil or was he curious about him? “You don’t exactly need it. All it really does is cover up your freckles.”

Virgil stared at him, unable to reply. There was too much to unpack there — so much — and Virgil did  not  have the energy to start.

Roman took his silence a different way. “You don’t like them?” he guessed.

Virgil looked away, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. “My friends... tease me for it.”

Of course, that was the sugarcoated version. Remus had erupted in laughter the first time he’d seen the little spots kissing Virgil’s nose and cheeks. He’d rummaged around in Virgil’s draws before finding his makeup kit and laughed even harder. Janus had been attracted by the noise, and while he hadn’t outwardly reacted beyond the twitching of his lips, his cheeks had gone pink with amusement. Remus had ended up breaking the pallet he had been holding in his grip, by accident. Virgil hadn’t had the courage to replace it, since. 

Roman was staring at him, with widened eyes as if Virgil had relayed the whole story out loud.

Virgil shrugged. “I—”

“You don’t need to do that here.” Virgil stared at Roman, wondering if he was taking him so off-guard on purpose. The other side shrugged, as if he could read the incredulity on Virgil’s expression. “No secrets, down here. You don’t need to cover anything up.”

Roman grinned at him. Virgil studied his face, expecting to see malice or mockery. He didn’t, so he offered a shy smile in response.

Roman turned back to clean up the dinner table of spilled bandages with a nonchalant shrug. “But, since I assume you’ll be going back soon, I’ll let you and your disgraceful guise be.”

Virgil scowled, ready to snap a retort, but he realised Roman was grinning. He deflated, unsure of how to react. Roman shot him a smirk. “At some point though, I’m gonna have to give you a full makeover.”

Virgil’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “Ha.”

 The third time Virgil returned, he found Logan sitting on the armchair beside the couch.

“You’ve come back, then,” Logan said without looking up. He seemed to have better spatial awareness than both Roman and Patton.

“Where’s Patton?” Virgil asked nervously, uncertain about spending time alone with this cold side.

“He’s not here at the moment,” was all that Logan offered, which didn’t solve much. Virgil scowled.

“Figured that much,” he muttered. Logan didn’t provide him any sign that he had heard, or was listening.

Virgil scuttled forward, looking curiously around the room. He had left pretty much as soon as his conversation about makeup with Roman had been over. True to his word, however, he hadn’t put on any foundation when he left his room. The others hadn’t been in the living room; he figured there was a video going on. He’d been secretly glad, but then simultaneously (only mildly, mind you) disappointed when he found Roman wasn’t in the subconscious living room (what had been the point in being without makeup if the guy wouldn’t even see it?)

The sound of rustling paper tuned Virgil back into the present, and he watched as Logan flipped a page of the rather large book he was holding.

“What are you reading?” Virgil asked.

Logan looked up, looking distantly surprised. “It’s a fascinating piece of text about the intellect of other animals. There’s a theory that the sonar dolphins use could be transferred to sand dollops as some kind of writing. Of all the alien species on earth, dolphins pose incredible investigative capabilities as establishing some method of trans-species communication could be applied to actual alien species, should humankind ever encounter any.”

Virgil was a little lost, but what Logan continued to talk about did indeed sound interesting. So Virgil sat, captivated, and listened as Logan rambled on about marine intelligence and strange research into certain fish species.

In the middle of Logan’s excited ranting, he seemed to catch himself. He stilled abruptly, going rigid, and blinked spastically. He slowly closed his book and tore his gaze from Virgil’s.

“You do not need to listen to any of this,” he said.

Virgil tilted his head. “It’s interesting,” he said honestly. “I like the way you describe things.”

Logan looked startled. “You do?” Virgil nodded. Logan frowned thoughtfully.

“It’s calming,” Virgil said.

Logan smiled — the first time Virgil had seen him — and continued. “Well, there are multiple hallucinogenic fish species that produce effects that’re highly unpredictable but...”

Virgil sat comfortably and was more than happy to listen to the logical side talk on.

They must have sat like that for hours, Logan lost in his explanations and Virgil lost in the overloading of facts and information and Logan’s calming voice.

Movement caught Virgil’s attention and he looked up to see Patton walk into the room. He brightened when his gaze spotted Virgil on the couch. “Happy to see you back, kiddo!”

Virgil ducked his head, secretly mutually pleased. He watched in the corner of his eye as Patton rummaged around in the kitchen. “Do you uh... need help?”

Patton paused, looking over at him, and he saw Logan glanced up, too.

Patton beamed. “I think it’s been a while since everybody helped out with dinner. Logan?”

Logan smiled and put his book down. “Frankly, I agree.” He glanced over at Virgil, a silent invitation to follow him as he headed into the kitchen. Virgil happily complied.

The next few hours were filled with cooking and washing and dodging around each other in the kitchen. At some point, Roman returned and disappeared up the stairs. He came back down, stripped of the gaudy armour he had had on, wearing a clean shirt and bright smile, and joined them.

Virgil was baffled. This was... so domestic. It wasn’t anything like he had expected the first time he’d adventured down here. No sharp teeth being bared at him, no curses or horrible monsters being set on him.

Virgil stepped back to let the others take control of dinner, and simply watched them. They moved so in-sync, so naturally with each other. It reminded him so much of home, how compatible they were.

That made him frown, though. Why  did  the others hate these dark sides? They weren’t... scary, or mean. Just cautious. Careful. Virgil couldn’t blame them; he wouldn’t have been too thrilled to have a new side barging into his living room.

But now... they looked at him as if he was any other dark side. It was almost unnerving, how they acted like him being there was nothing different from routine. Maybe they were weird, and that was why the light sides didn’t like them.

“There.” Patton leaned back from the oven, satisfied.

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe I should head back, now." It had at least been a few hours. Chances were that the others had finished now. Maybe they were wondering where he was.

“Awe,” said Patton, his face falling. Virgil’s heart clenched in his chest and he wondered why he cared so much about keeping that smile on the other side’s face.

“Quite alright,” Logan said, stepping forward. “It is ideal that you retain a steady, daily routine in order to stay healthy. If... you’re sure you don’t want to stay for the dinner you helped make?”

Virgil shot him a smile. “I’m sure. Thanks.”

“Make sure you come back sometime soon,” Roman said, moving forward to put his hand on Patton’s shoulder. “I still have to give you that makeover.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and flipped him off as he walked out the door, hearing laughter behind him.

He arrived in his room, the place he’d sunk out of, earlier in the day, and stretched. He was ready for a nap.

His stomach grumbled, and he sighed. The smell of the dark sides’ dinner must have gotten to him.

Alright, he decided as he headed for the door. One snack.

Logan wouldn’t be happy with him, he thought with a smile as he made his way downstairs into the empty living room. He had mentioned in one of his rants about the importance of a healthy diet. Sorry, L.

He almost considered leaving the lights off — he could see well enough in the dark (he must have adjusted well to the subconscious) — but then decided he didn’t want to accidentally break something and wake the others up.

So he flicked the light on.

And was greeted with the scowling faces of two very awake light sides.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #fanfic #long post #alternate universe #kind of #LAMP

[liveonmtv]

cash machine || kth

pairing: kim taehyung/f!reader genre: fluff & humor. crack actually. crack cocaine. word count: 11.1k warnings: strong language, drinking, an unwated kiss (not from tae), unsanitary jokes (i’m immature), implied sex, vomiting extra: (fr)enemies to lovers, road trip au, rich kids au but it’s barely there also they’re on summer vacation, also this story takes place in the usa JUST to drag the trip out tbh

summary: Jungkook and Seokjin get a little problematic, you have anger issues and Taehyung is under the impression that he killed a man. Also, did you mention that you’re on your way to your unfunny cousin’s wedding? Go on a road trip from Missouri to Las Vegas and you’ll be in for a hilarious yet scary experience! 

a/n: hi! i’m just starting this account out, so reblogging would mean a lot to me. i’m a novice to writing, so criticism is welcome as long as you’re not rude about it. have fun reading (i hope)! i also have a jungkook fic planned next (:

song

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Jungkook has that look in his face, the one he makes where the person sitting opposite of him is about as depraved as he is. He’s given it to you while you were explaining to him how to scam desperate men under the preface of a faux premium Snapchat and he’s given it to Jimin when they were finishing their high school careers and decided to release grasshoppers in the principal’s office. 

However, if there’s one person that’s about as fucked up in the head as he is, it’s Seokjin. The man also suffers from SMSTS as well (Serious Misconception of Sexual Tension Syndrome, and yes, that’s quite a lot of s’s), which doesn’t hurt given the current affairs. 

While Jungkook is aware that Jimin and Hoseok are always up for a bit of mischief, he has ruled them both out as incompetents and moved on to the real deal. Jimin has these rare moments of sanity and Hoseok, as your most loyal little bitchboy, would probably tattle the situation with made-up details to you before the plan is even set in action. 

So, Seokjin it is. 

The story begins in a faraway land before Jungkook knew about the tragic facets of your family’s relationships. Though his friend group is on good terms with your siblings and your other close relatives are aware of their existence and somehow only have good things to say about them, he never thought they’d be invited to your cousin’s wedding. To be fair, you had to do some serious persuasion for your family to allow you to invite six more people to somebody else’s wedding so there’s that factor contributing, but still, the offer is out of the blue.

Somewhere along the way, you went on a tangent about how much you hate your cousin and how your aunt doesn’t have eyebrows and how bothersome it is to look at her face. Your horror stories were mostly you just being your usual dramatic self, but they also revealed that the [L/n]s aren’t what they appear to be. 

You begged and begged for them to accept the invitations, and though Namjoon and Yoongi, unfortunately, couldn’t make it, the others agreed. 

Then arose the problem of the sixth spot that couldn’t be filled. You would’ve just let it be but your parents insisted that if you’re going to ask for something, you should fulfill it until the end. It was Namjoon you’d asked to come first, but he was busy with visiting family back in Seoul, and Yoongi then declared that he didn’t feel like humoring you this once. And that was the exact moment Jungkook decided to strike.

“You want to play matchmaker?” Jin asks. And though he looks almost skeptical, his tone is definitely an excited one. “With [Y/n] and Tae, of all people?” 

“Well yes, think about it logically,” he explains as he is about to say something completely illogical. “She has that sixth spot to fill, she has no other friends and they’re perfect for each other. All the other shit we’re gonna pull is just for fun, though.”  

Jin laughs an evil laugh, always one to be up for evil schemes. Just another evil day in the evil life of Kim Seokjin. “Well, [Y/n] is Tae’s perfect mean girl. And that girl needs either therapy or to get laid, but like, same.” 

“See? You get me.”

“To be fair, I think that goes for all of us. No offense.” 

“None taken,” Jungkook agrees. “Anyways, I was thinking of a… road trip.” 

“Well you didn’t have to be so dramatic about it, this isn’t The Godfather. Though I do feel like I’ve definitely got a bit of Michael Corleone in me.” 

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly at the other fiend’s remark. “You can pray to god all you want. Here in these streets, the only thing we believe in is El Chapo.” 

“I— Okay…” 

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[11:05] LeBruh James: wtf is wrong with u

[11:05] LeBruh James: get help seriously

[11:06] jk the slump god: all i said was that u should invite taehyung as the 6th person to ur cussin’s wedding 

[11:06] jk the slump god: overreacting arent we 

[11:10] LeBruh James: what the hell is a cussin bitch im gonna kill u

[11:13] jk the slump god: not like u have anyone else to invite tho 

[11:13] jk the slump god: hes not that bad ur just being urself

[11:14] LeBruh James: ur literally Not helping ur case rn

[09:45] LeBruh James: none of the girls want to gooooo

[09:45] LeBruh James: fine if it has to be taehyung ig ill live w it

[10:30] jk the slump god: great he already said yes

[10:30] jk the slump god: btw we’re gonna go in las vegas at the end of a road trip u in?

[10:33] LeBruh James: HE SAID YES BEFORE I EVEN INVITED HIM…

[10:33] LeBruh James: EYE. OK.

[10:33] LeBruh James: on one hand i kind of dont want to see any of u but if ur all gone i wont have anything to do b4 the wedding so i guess im in by proxy

[10:34] jk the slump god: lovely doing business with u y/n-chan

[10:36] LeBruh James: call me y/n-chan again and I Will Put ur Dick-Chan in a Freezer-sama and then Cut-san it off

[10:39] jk the slump god: i dont think ur using the honorifics correctly tbh..

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“I don’t see how this is a good idea,” you state with a dramatic pout while looking out of the window. Your expression is solemn. 

Taehyung kind of can’t believe that you’re throwing a tantrum just because you had to sit next to him in the three-row SUV, but on the other hand, he’s kind of into it. You’re more appalled by the fact that he’s not as disgusting up close as you’d imagined him to be. Well granted, you’re being immature, but it’s your shtick so they take it with a grain of salt.

“Why’s that?” Jungkook asks obtusely. He ruined your life the moment he started calling you [Y/n]-chan and he has that bad case of crazy eyes he gets sometimes when you look at his reflection in the mirror going on right now. You’d be more understanding of his condition, hadn’t your trip started barely five minutes ago. 

“What do you mean why is that? We’re all unstable backstabbing lunatics, do you think we can survive together for six whole days?! Stranded or even in a hotel? And then the ride back to Springfield?”

“Hotel? You’re funny. It’s always been my dream to sleep in a motel,” Jin pipes up. 

“Seriously? No limo, now this.”

“Hotel, motel, holiday inn,” Hoseok starts singing. Perhaps if it was queen Britney, it would’ve curbed your temper but fate doesn’t seem to be that kind. 

“Hotel, motel, holiday inn! Hotel, motel, holiday inn! Hotel, motel, holiday inn!” 

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“So we’re not going to visit the Grand Canyon?” 

“It’s in Nevada,” Jimin explains. “We don’t have any business there except for going to the wedding. I’d be more down to do it if I wasn’t afraid that one of us, meaning [Y/n], would push one of the others, meaning you, in the gutter.” 

“Just a little visit?” Taehyung is talented at only hearing what he wants to hear. However, that doesn’t make the conversation any more productive.

“Well not to be the acrophobic buzzkill, but why are you so adamant about visiting the Grand Canyon?” This is the first time you’ve directly addressed Taehyung since the beginning of these mind-numbing two hours. Jin, hands still on the wheel, dares to take a peek at Jungkook and smile an asshole-type smile before almost accidentally crashing into a pole. 

“Watch the road!” Hoseok cries out. Everyone else either refuses to acknowledge what just occurred or decides to spare themselves from doing so.

“Jin says that he always wanted to sleep in a motel. I have another dream.” 

“To visit the Grand Canyon?”

“Not exactly. I want to take a shit in there and see if I can hear it splatter. Think that’s possible?”

“Maybe if you angle your butthole the right way—” Jimin’s explanation is cut short.

“Oh my god, you are disgusting. Shut up. I don’t want to hear it.”  

“What did I tell you about El Chapo, [N/n]?” 

“What about El Chapo?”

“Holy shit, I think I’m confusing conversations,” Jungkook admits. Jin offers no more than an eye-roll.

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Tulsa is a dump, really. Unfortunate that you had to make a stop here but also you’re satisfied because your right asscheek feels numb right now. Might have to take Kelly for a walk, though.  

Taehyung stumbles out of the vehicle after you and all six of you seize each other fleetingly before making your way towards the gas station, a tense sort of silence following. You’re first to speak up. “Y’know, I’ve been listening to your voices for so long now that I don’t wanna look at your faces.” 

“This tbh,” Hoseok agrees with your most profound sentiments as per the usual. He’s quick to match your pace, trailing after you like a lost puppy, successfully getting Taehyung out of his way. He puts his arm around your shoulders casually and you give him that sardonic smile that’s only really reserved for him.

“Don’t say tee-bee-aytch out loud. I get humiliation by proxy.” 

Jungkook makes an exaggerated gagging sound before nudging Taehyung subtly enough that Jin is the only one who sees the interaction. Though the eldest had agreed with his deranged idea, there’s one thing that Kook knows that Jin hasn’t come to find out. 

Taehyung has an ongoing problem or maybe he’s a masochist. He’s always been one to internally get attached to these girls who’d never give him the time of day, who can’t stand him at all. The tragedy-comedy that is his best friend’s love life started on a rainy day in second grade when a girl by the name of Seulbi punched him in the face and he was hooked on her for three years after. 

After the infamous Seulbi, came Yeonji from the cheerleading club who blew off his invite to his first-ever party when they were fifteen. She’d called him a loser to his face and he was smitten with her for a while, too. 

And then, you appeared in his life seemingly out of nowhere. Hoseok’s catty best friend with a tongue sharper than her stilettos and lipstick that goes perfectly with her skin tone. 

Of course, he was aware of your existence prior to that accident he calls his first conversation with you—be it from the exciting yet flat-out brain dead antics Hoseok would describe you’d gotten caught up in at the time or from the sound of your heels sinking into the floor promptly before you entered math class.  You were always late but claimed that the teacher should be grateful because you cut in line to arrive at school earlier. You always had one of those shitty overrated pumpkin spice lattes in your manicured hands. 

Simply put, Taehyung likes you. Though after your disastrous first meeting during which, blunt-natured and seemingly lacking a sense of self-preservation, he called you a stuck up moron and you threatened to make an attempt at his life. With your bullheaded nature, things never did solve themselves after that one instance.

It’s not something that he’s expressed outwardly, but Jungkook knows him better than he knows the back of his hand. Unfortunately, he knows you too, even if not as well and he knows how you can’t get a boyfriend because you either scare them away or you find out they’re only after a quick fuck and some money. 

Regardless, Jungkook writes off his inner ramblings as irrelevant before turning to Jin in what could be described as a conspirative manner. While clumsily handing the cashier gas money, he whispers something in the other man’s ear and Jin’s eyes literally twinkle like he’s in a low-budget porno. 

He nods, furiously so, and the cashier simply stares at them like they’re two idiots that somehow merged into one. It’s not a pretty sight. 

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“What? We’re sleeping out here?” Your whining is to be expected by now. Had any of your friends written an actual, physical, list of all the things you’ve complained about so far, it’d probably fill a notebook. Thankfully enough, said list remained as a mental compilation of your not-so-epic moments. “What about the motel?” 

“Oh, so now you want a motel?” Jin quips back with a smirk. “They always come ‘round.” 

Despite his boasting and apparent eagerness to go to a motel, that doesn’t change the fact that you all find yourselves in a campsite. You’re not an outdoor person save for going to parties or on a shopping spree with Hoseok. And well, your surroundings are a bit too green right now.

Taehyung is the next person to speak up, with a tense posture and his arms crossed over his chest, almost defiantly so. “Honestly, if you don’t want to be here, I don’t understand why you keep coming to these things.”

“Well, I don’t understand why I had to invite your dumb ass here either. I guess the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma.” 

“Yeah, I thought Namjoon or Yoongi would be more fitting for your taste of guest,” he says, outright taunting you now, as if to remind you of your failed love rendezvous with your now close friends. 

“Well yeah, but they both denied, so I had to invite you.” 

“Ah,” he gives a slight sigh and you dismiss the sadness you register in his voice as something deserved for annoying you, “that does make more sense. Lucky me, I guess.”

“Awkies,” Jungkook announces as if it’s something that needs to be announced. Hoseok simply shrugs, and though you’re definitely not looking forward to sleeping out in the woods, he seems excited to try something new. 

There’s something hilarious about seeing a bunch of upper-class kids trying to set up tents and start a fire. You’ve converted to the cavemen with Hoseok, seemingly unaware that engaging in a one-sided debate with a bundle of sticks won’t make them randomly engulf in flames while Hoseok is trying out a trick he saw in the movies.

Honestly, it’s enough of a miracle that you actually went out in the woods and helped without tripping your silly ass and getting lost among the catacombs. Granted, Hoseok would’ve been compassionate enough to look for you had you gotten lost, but you probably wouldn’t get over the trauma of being covered in mud. 

Taehyung notices you both struggling. Part of him wants to make amends with you and a bigger part of him wants to leave Jimin to scramble on his own. Not that he’s sadistic or anything, he just likes seeing others suffer sometimes for entertainment purposes. 

Anyways. 

He approaches casually, like the kind of casual where you can tell that the person has an ulterior motive that they don’t want to reveal. Hoseok appears happy to see him, like he’s a savior on a white horse, while you don’t acknowledge him that much except for a sharp question regarding what he wants. 

He greets the older boy with one of these grins you won’t admit you enjoy looking at before roaming through the pockets of his jacket. Now that you’ve noticed him wearing one, you come to the sudden realization that it is getting quite breezy. 

Taehyung has the habit of scrunching his nose when he’s looking for something and then unconsciously smile broadly after succeeding in finding it. You don’t like that you’re aware of that and you especially don’t like that you can pinpoint the repetitive action.

It appears that Taehyung was looking for a lighter, of all things. 

“I thought you quit smoking?” You simply give him an incredulous look. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer. Though he doesn’t reek of the putrid smell, you’re still hoping that the answer to that question is yes. Instead of soothing your curiosity, however, he uses the lighter to ignite a spark in the firewood and you guess that it’ll have to do.

“Well, that was quite pathetic,” you comment unhelpfully. 

“Better than Hobi’s attempts and uh, whatever the fuck you were doing.” 

Hoseok is enthusiastic to announce that the bonfire’s ready. You watch the clumsily prepped three tents in disinterest, not bothering to defend your attempt at enchantment to him. “Hoseokie, you’re gonna share a tent with me right?” 

“Hoseokie,” Jin repeats, but in good fun, “I thought you were gonna crash with me tonight?”

You roll your eyes before redirecting your gaze towards Jimin and Jungkook. By the guilty smile Jungkook gives you, you can tell he doesn’t plan on letting Jimin out of his clown clutches. You narrow your expression and jut your lip out disapprovingly. 

“Well, Mr. Handsome,” Jin interrupts whatever you have to say with a thank you, “since you and Kook have been jointed by the assholes since we got here, I don’t see what the problem is.” 

“I think you’re just saying that because you don’t wanna sleep with Tae,” Hoseok comments obliviously. 

“What he said. Also, these crackwhores are planning something, and I’m going to find out what.”

“Well, you’re in tough luck because Hoseok promised,” Jin argues, emphasizing the word promise. He has a shit-eating grin on his face and he’s not even denying your accusation. 

Taehyung coughs once. The second time is overkill and sounds even faker than the first one. “Sorry, but if [Y/n] isn’t comfortable sharing the tent with me, it doesn’t really matter what Hoseok promised.” 

You gape at him. This is probably the first intelligent thing that you’ve heard come out of his mouth. You almost reconsider your treatment of him after that, but then you remember that a guy being half-decent isn’t something you’re supposed to celebrate. You suppose that even he looks like a saint compared to some of your exes.

Everyone notices the conflict on your face but doesn’t say anything about it. Jin admits that Taehyung’s right with a wail yet the tension doesn’t dissolve, somehow. You excuse yourself by declaring that you’re going to get the blankets out of the SUV. 

“Damn, that bad huh?” Jungkook laughs. It’s the hyena laugh that kind of doesn’t suit his face but also the one he does when he’s having fun for no good reason. 

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“I heard in the girls’ bathroom once that this girl went on a diet where she only eats bananas for three months. Like, five a day,” you explain while you munch on your banana in front of the bonfire. Needless to say, you’ve come out to be severely underprepared in terms of food on your first day. 

“That sounds like a strategy to make yourself unhinged,” Hoseok retorts. He believes your story but he’s skeptical about that banana business. “I’d never do that.” 

��Me neither. Diets are stupid, anyway, can’t a bitch eat?” 

Jungkook reaches over and high-fives you, looking at you like you’ve just invented air or some shit. “Amen to that sister.” 

“By the way, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Jimin is the one to speak up this time. 

“I have quite the plan for you, alright,” Jin laughs. His next statement, however, is the embodiment of his immature nature. “But that banana talk had me all distracted.”

Everyone collectively groans. You’re not really sure if what he said would classify as a dad joke at this point; you’re now entering single-and-desperate-dad joke territory. Can’t say that you’d enjoy it coming from someone else, but Jin is Jin.

“Anyways,” he dismisses his previous remark with an easy-going smile and a wave of his hand in thin air, “we’re going to a breakfast place first thing in the morning. By foot.” 

His grin is mischievous. You think this is the worst idea he’s had yet and no one else present seems attracted by the prospect of it either, so you vocally oppose him with a raised brow. “Don’t you realize how likely it is we’ll get lost?” 

“Yeah, I also don’t wanna walk too much.” Hoseok’s always one to back you up.

“Technology doesn’t lie, [Y/n].”

“If technology doesn’t lie how come I had a D on my maths test in junior year when I used Photomath?” 

Hoseok agrees, remembering the incident. That day was truly one of sorrow. 

“Technology only lies if you’re gullible enough,” Jin now changes the narrative. 

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You sneak out of your and Hoseok’s tent with a brief explanation thrown over your shoulder. Something about getting your make-up wipes from the trunk. Hoseok mutters inspiring words of advice—be careful, it’s dark and who knows what animal puke is on the ground—and you stumble your way to the SUV. 

Shoving the keys in the hole proves to be a difficult task, however. You aimlessly jut it in, hoping to hit the correct place by some sort of miracle. This is the moment that you realize that your eyes aren’t so good at adapting to the darkness. 

“Hey, what’re you doing?”

You jump up out of pure reflex. Startled, you whip around with a bemused look on your face. You’re gonna get wrinkles, damn it. 

“Woah, girl jumps in heels,” Taehyung comments dryly. 

“Don’t sneak up on me, you idiot cokehead,” you retort. You’re not sure why you said that. He’s not a cokehead. 

“No, but seriously, what’re you doing?” 

“I’m trying to look for my make-up wipes.” 

Taehyung takes the keys from you. Without half as much fumbling as you’d done previously, he opens the trunk and you proceed with looking through your purse, only to come to the conclusion that you’ve forgotten your make-up lines somewhere. There’s now a new resolve, clear as day in your twisted mind—you have to find the supermarket you passed by on your way here and buy new ones.

“Did you find them?”

“No.” You scoff. An angry thaw and the trunk is now closed. “I’m going to buy some.” 

“Woah, calm down tiger. Can’t you just sleep with it?” 

“No! Do you know how bad that is for your skin?” 

“Well, we could find a river and you could wipe your face with the dirty water.” 

You give him a blank stare, barely suppressing a small giggle. “Do you understand how ridiculous you’re being?” 

“I’m being ridiculous?”

Silence.

“...You’re not planning to go off in the woods during the dawn of asscrack, right?” 

“The what? Yeah.”

Taehyung looks towards your tent only to see that the light is completely shut down. Hoseok must be asleep already. “I’ll go with you.” 

You roll your eyes. “Do whatever you want.” 

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“So, why do you hate your cousin so much?” Taehyung asks abruptly from behind you. 

Most of your walk has been a silent one, so far, except for an occasional grumble from you and an absentminded one-liner from him. There’s also the sound of sticks crumbling under your high-heels that’s slightly irritating. 

“Because she’s unfunny,” you reply seriously.

“You have issues.” This is probably the least significant reason someone has ever hated somebody else for, in the entire history of hatred. Strangely enough, however, Taehyung can’t help finding it endearing how outlandish you can be.

“I’m sorry, I must have Alzheimer’s because I don’t remember asking,” you snap with a roll of your eyes. 

“You know, I have a dog,” he begins dramatically. “And sometimes he shits on the carpet and one time he puked on me, but I still love him very much. He’s gang, you feel?” 

“I don’t see how that helps with my family situation.”

“I never said it’s supposed to help, I just wanted to talk about myself.” He snickers. You’re getting the most violent of urges. 

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Leering over the thin metal fence that looms over an otherwise mundane hill gives you an idea. Down the admittedly high hill, the supermarket is obnoxiously lit up. However, the hideous sight doesn’t deter you—this is what your nirvana looks like in the given moment.

With one bold move, you lift your leg up the fence and Taehyung considers you, your motives and perhaps even your life until now. “What are you doing?” 

“It’ll be faster if I go down the hill.” 

“You’re gonna break your ankles in these shoes,” he rebuts, his voice a tilted monotone. “Also, I can see your underwear like this.” 

“Perveeeeert.” This is your final taunt before you do make it over the short fence and onto the other side. Examining the hill from up close—but not before you roll your miniskirt down—you come to two conclusions. The first one is that it’s quite steep and the second one comes when you’re one step down, that maybe, just maybe, you’re a bit deranged.

With your back turned to him, you don’t get to see Taehyung experiencing the five stages of grief. There’s obvious conflict on his face and to be precise, his current dilemma is between worry for you and a lack of power to stop you. Perhaps had you turned around, you’d find the sight entertaining.

His movements are leisurely once he does get in motion. Taehyung’s plan is to simply help you up now that he noticed that you’re hesitating to go further than you’ve already gone. 

His voice cutting through the night’s silence startles you. “Hey, you really shouldn’t do this.” 

You stumble. 

As tragic as that is, there’s something else to placate you; you’ve never seen Taehyung move so fast. Not even during the blip test in high school. The rest of his actions are less endearing—he throws you over his shoulder carelessly, stumbles onto the sidewalk and drops you like it’s hot. And then your legs are a bit wobbly, but you pretend they aren’t. 

The unnerving silence remains all the way to the supermarket, then back to the campsite and even when Taehyung’s awkwardly using his phone as a flashlight in your face while you remove your make-up. There’s nothing to say, except maybe if he were to ask you a question that’s not to your liking.

(He’s not that bad.)

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Jin is in a hurry, but you’re not sure what for. It’s been practically less than a day since you started this road trip, but it feels longer. You’re conflicted about how to feel regarding that, but even so, Jimin and Hoseok’s enthusiasm is hard to ignore. 

The feline smile on your face drops the moment Jungkook basically drags you out of your tent, bare-faced and severely underdressed. Well, to be honest, you blend in with them just fine, but in your head, you’re severely underdressed. Something more boujee is usually your style, but you realize your predicament won’t magically change the longer you’re walking in what feels like the middle of nowhere. 

Tusla is gross, yes, but maybe Oklahoma is just gross in general. 

When you’re unhappy, you don’t get shy about it—honesty is the best policy, after all. So you’re going on one of those annoying tangents you like to go on like it’s second nature to you. Maybe it is. 

Taehyung drones out whatever it is you’re saying the moment you start talking about a pimple in your nostril that has hair growing out of it. He’s not particularly grossed out by this revelation, rather, he doesn’t like listening to you go on and on about everything you don’t like about yourself. 

“And I couldn’t put on that necklace you got me for my birthday,” you complain before linking your arms with Hoseok’s and feigning a sniff.

“That is pretty horrible,” he hums in agreement. “I think I have a rash on my thigh.” 

“See, if Jungkook wasn’t being horrible I could probably get some kinda product to smear on it.”

Taehyung feigns a loud yawn. Tagging along with you and Hoseok isn’t as tiring as he’d like to make it out to be. 

“What’re you yawning so blatantly for? I hate being interrupted.” You roll your eyes cockily. 

“Sorry, I almost fell asleep during this uninteresting speech of yours.”

You fume again and Hoseok reassures you with something along the lines of don’t worry, [Y/n], it’s very interesting. Then, silence follows. It always seems to end up like this between the two of you. 

“Well, if it helps,” Taehyung starts, tone breezy, “you’re still beautiful.” 

You feel your face heat up. Sure, boys have given you plenty of compliments before—you’re no stranger to it—hot, sexy and maybe pretty on a good day. But beautiful? Especially without any make-up on? This is definitely something new. 

Hoseok smiles. “Yeah, he’s right.” 

You don’t want to admit just how flattered you really are. “Of course I am.”

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You take the first thing you find to your liking once you reach the breakfast place. Actually, it’s more brunch than it is breakfast, but all that walking is making you starve so you don’t feel particularly inclined to be hung up on semantics. 

“It’s on me.” Jungkook sweeps in smoothly, giving you a flashy smile. 

“Fuck off. I’m still mad at you.”

“You might be, but not for long,” he argues with an obnoxious grin on his face. “They call it… The Kook Effect.” 

You shake your head. “I’m pretty sure you just made that up.”

“Yeah? Remember when you won a bet against Jimin and he had to call you Supreme Majesty in freshman year? And then you pretended that he did it out of his own volition.” 

“Oh, I’m not taking this from you and your dead trim.”

“My trim is fine, thanks.”

“Dead trim!” you repeat, almost frantic. You’re so caught up with Jungkook’s dead trim that you don’t notice that Taehyung is giving you a cheesy smile as he buys you your food. He looks like the greasiest gentleman alive when he hands it to you. 

“And what’s that about?”

“In junior year, at summer camp, they took away our phones because someone recorded the instructor jerking off. And then like, blackmailed him.” 

You quirk an eyebrow up at this, unsure what he’s hinting at. “Right.”

“Right. And then they took all of our phones for a month and you started crying about how your life is a living nightmare.” 

“Right…” you trail off, suddenly embarrassed as if that hadn’t happened a whole two years ago. But like, it totally was a big deal! “The no phone rule was the worst. Even worse than the public bathroom rule.”

“I did it. I’m making it up to you,” he explains. 

You feel your mouth twitch into a small smile, one that he hasn’t quite seen on you before. “I forgive you this once, then.” 

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“We’re going to a hotel after sightseeing,” Jin explains. It’s like he’s got everything figured out all by himself and perhaps with the help of Jungkook’s annoying personality. “I arranged the rooms and everything while you were eating.” 

“Quite epic,” Jimin comments absentmindedly. “Wait, rooms? Like, you mean who’s rooming with who?” 

“Yeah, I finished the registration.” He stares directly at you and then Taehyung. “You could switch if you wanted to, it doesn’t really matter.”

You give him a light glare, already having a brief idea of what he’s done, but don’t comment any further. With a sense of deja vu, you speak up again. “What about the motel?” 

“I wasn’t sure if we’re going to be passing by one today, so I thought hey! Better safe than sorry.” 

Everyone nods in half-agreement until Jin speaks up again. “Plus, you guys reek. You should shower. Couldn’t be me.”

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Predictably, Jin did set you and Taehyung up. You can’t tell what kind of game he and Jungkook are playing, however, the poor boy isn’t half as insufferable in your eyes ever since this road trip began, so maybe you should thank them. Still, you don’t trust them—their minds are as twisted as yours.

As the two of you are dragging your luggage towards your shared room, Taehyung reminds you that you’re free to tell him if you don’t want to sleep with him. “I could go to Jungkook’s room or something.”

You find the idea of being alone more unfavorable than you thought you would. Perhaps your high-school, drastically more histrionic, self would’ve found anything more pleasant than sharing a room with Taehyung. You’re a (slightly) changed person now, though. Or at least you’d like to believe you are.

“Let’s put it like this. I hate a lot of things.”

“You don’t need to tell me that, I already know,” he interrupts with a crude giggle. 

“But you’re not one of them,” you admit. 

There’s also the fact that the two of you are blatantly ignoring that you could switch with Jin and sleep with Hoseok instead.

No more words are spoken between the two of you that day. New Mexico isn’t half as bad as Oklahoma was. 

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You wake up before Taehyung does, punctually so. Rolling out of bed, you partly don’t care whether you wake him but at the same time, you try to avoid making too much noise before slipping into the bathroom. Though you’re definitely one to value your beauty sleep, yesterday’s incident left you paranoid over whether Jungkook or Jin would catch you unprepared. 

You go through your routine calmly and by the time Taehyung goes in the bathroom to take a piss, you’re ready to start doing your make-up. You stare at the foundation in your hand but before you can apply it, you hesitate. 

Do I need make-up to be desirable?

Of course, you’re aware that not all women who use make-up are insecure, or that it’s always necessarily toxic for your self-esteem. And you thought that was the case with you as well, but your doubts suggest otherwise. Swiftly, you put all of your stuff away, stick with your trusty lipstick and nothing else. 

“Morning,” he says, groggy still. 

“Morning.” You look over to him from the corner of your eye and he looks kind of dazed. “Jin says we’re staying here until tomorrow morning.” 

“Cool. Hotel’s nice. The scenery too.” 

“I guess.” 

There’s something cripplingly awkward when the two of you aren’t hurling insults at each other, you realize. 

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You’re off somewhere with Hoseok and Jin when Taehyung is hanging out with Jimin and Jungkook. Turns out their room has a nice balcony, and with the others out of the picture, there’s some kind of buzzed chatter about incoherent topics swirling around. 

Jungkook suddenly decides that it’s a good idea to start talking about his sexcapades. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe his mind’s slipping. Jimin kind of wants to admit how much he doesn’t care what his friend does outside of watching anime and playing video games, but there’s also a part of him that’s morbidly intrigued by Jungkook’s words. Like a dark spell or something. 

“I wanted to hit it off with [Y/n] in high school,” he admits bluntly.

The other two stare at him.

“Oh really? What made you change your mind?” Jimin asks, now more awake than ever. 

“Dunno. Like, she’s more like, the bitchy rival in rom-coms, not the protagonist. I liked her, but I didn’t think I could handle her,” he admits.

“Once we were clubbing and this guy was messing with me and I complained to her about it,” Jimin begins, leaning into his chair with a fond smile on his face, “and she was all like, I’ll show him. And I was like, what? And she was like, I’ll show him who he’s dealing with. And then I was like, okay, maybe don’t show him that much.” 

The three of them chuckle. Taehyung talks for the first time in a while. “Nah, I agree.”

“You dig it though, right?” 

Jimin gives him a knowing look right after Jungkook shoots his question with a drunken smile. He guesses that since Hoseok isn’t here, he can finally admit it. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. But I can’t get things right with her.” 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like, we’re either fighting or it’s really awkward.” 

“You’re on your own.” Jimin dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “I don’t think she hates you that much. It’s always Taehyung this, Taehyung that.” 

“True,” Jungkook agrees. “Like yes, maybe she’s complaining about you half the time and I know she loves gossiping but I’ve never heard her talk about someone else that much. Except maybe Yoongi. What I’m sayin’ is, you should give it a shot.”

“Why do you guys even fight so much?” Jimin laughs. “Whenever it happens, I like, forget what even happened to lead up to that.” 

“Well, you know me. I’m always too honest for my own good and when I hit her with some snark she starts getting all defensive. I just...” He sounds defeated by the time he’s finished with his explanation. Taehyung’s shoulders visibly slump and his frame slides down the uncomfortable chair. “I just want to get along with her.” 

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The fourth day is the first time you actually aren’t sure where you are. Save for supposedly being close to Nevada by now, you tuned out the rest of Jin’s explanation despite your previous attempts at keeping up with your location. 

Regardless, what’s important is living in the present. And the present for you right now is walking down a nameless street, in a mess of other tourists, with your pants uncomfortably sticking to your ass with sweat. In short, you feel gross. 

Taehyung doesn’t seem to be having the same problem, while you can’t even fake being unfazed. You envy him just the tiniest bit. 

A trashy souvenir shop seems to catch Taehyung’s attention. In the scorching heat and sand-yellow scenery of this town, however, even that seems more appealing. So when he urges you to go with him, you find yourself reluctantly agreeing. 

When you step in, the air conditioning of the otherwise homey shop welcomes you like taking a breather during an overcrowded party. You let an unconscious smile take over your face when you greet the cashier. She’s cute and her adorableness factor only spikes up when she practically beams at the sight of customers. 

“Hi! Please, feel free to look around.” 

“We will,” Taehyung answers offhandedly. Her gaze lingers on him. 

Most of the things don’t interest you. Actually, they’re hideous if you had to be completely honest. He doesn’t seem that enamored by them either, but you can tell he finds more redeeming qualities about them than you do. 

Your eyes almost bulge out of your face when you see the most live-laugh-love-esque decoration to exist. Like something your mom would laugh-react to on Facebook. 

The offender is no more than three inches tall and wide, a ceramic plate with a cartoony burger portrayed on it. It’s holding a flag that says two simple words: “Nice Buns!” 

You can’t tell if it’s the radioactivity of Jungkook’s cooking from earlier or if this thing is what’s making you nauseous. However, food-poisoning or not, you’re quite disgusted by what you’ve just seen. “Oh my god, the caucasity.” 

“Aw, you don’t like it?” Taehyung says with a mocking pout. “I think it’s cute.” 

“What’s wrong with you? It’s corny.”

“No, it isn’t. It might’ve been if it was a corn-dog, though.” 

You heaved an over-dramatic sigh. “You’re saying words that have no positive impact on my life.”

“I think I’ll buy it,” he declares, before checking the price and realizing he hasn’t brought enough money with himself. 

You shake your head. “I’m not gonna be an accomplice to… that.” 

“Well, of course not. This is your Valentine’s present.”

“Go to hell. As if I’d be your Valentine in the first place,” you reply sardonically before pushing him out of the way.  

Taehyung realizes something at that moment. Even outside your evident disinterest in him and his affairs, the two of you are completely incompatible. You, too quick to judge and be offended and him, too quickly to say the first thing on his mind, obviously don’t mesh smoothly. 

Neither of the boyfriends you’ve had that he’s spoken to is anything like him, either. If Namjoon and Yoongi have one thing in common, it’s that they’re both calm, collected and have a good head screwed securely on top of their shoulders. He’s not like that.

Even so, that revelation only makes the concept of being with you more alluring. 

Kim Taehyung is an idiot. But more importantly, with one glance towards the admittedly good-looking cashier making googly eyes at him, Kim Taehyung makes a decision.

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While you’re taking a shit in a nearby cafeteria, you receive a text from Taehyung. This is shocking by itself since despite the two of you having each others’ numbers, you never really text. 

[15:30] pain in the neck: im going on a date w/ the cashier

[15:30] pain in the neck: feel free to leave

[15:45] Princess Complex: i’m just gonna hang with jungkook thank god

Why is your stomach sinking?

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Once you meet up with Jungkook, you explain the situation briefly. He quickly looks you over, confusion evident on his face. “What? On a date?”

“Yeah, he just kinda left me in the toilet,” you confirm with a shrug. “Anyways, where do you wanna go?” 

It’s not like Jungkook is an oblivious idiot with the emotional capacity of your aunt’s mutated sixth toe, even if he may appear to be. But you never thought he’d call you out the moment your overly confident facade starts slipping. His gaze softens. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?” 

He isn’t examining you when he asks. No, he appears to be looking off, somewhere behind you. However, you remain ignorant to that fact. 

“Yes! Why would I care? I’d rather drink toilet water for ten years straight than spend any more time with that moron,” you snap, too worked up for someone who supposedly doesn’t care. 

“Is that how you really feel about Taehyung?”

“Yes! Yes, oh my god, let it go.”

Jungkook makes one more helpless expression, shrugs lightly, and you fail to realize that neither of those gestures is directed at you. “Let’s go to the arcade.”

“I’m not really into video games,” you lie as you run your hand through your hair, “but fine.”

“Hell yeah.”

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When Taehyung goes back to your room in the trashy motel, notably late during the night for a mere first date, the atmosphere is tense. There’s a crease in your brows when you unlock the door and obvious bite marks over your bare lips. He stumbles ahead to enter, but you continue blocking his path with your arms frigidly crossed over your chest.

“You’re late.” 

“And what’s it to you?” He’s never spoken to you so harshly. There are moments where his words bite, but never does he say them with an expression and tone that are so frosty.

“Nothing in particular.” You move out of his way, finally, and he enters. You briefly wonder if he’s had alcohol before you start talking again. “I’ve been stuck in this room for like, an hour because the keys are in me. Waiting for you...”

“Poor you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I heard what you said about me to Jungkook. You know, I’m starting to understand why you scared away all your exes.”

Warth washes over you in waves for a millisecond before it disperses into nothingness, a cold numbness that makes your back shiver. Your gaze on him is empty yet livid at the same time and he cowers under it. You’re not sure if the guilt on his face is a flicker of your imagination or if it’s genuine, but you hope it’s the latter. 

It’s never his words that are a big deal to you. It’s the way he speaks every syllable, so earnestly with truth laced in every letter, that makes you go off the hook. Because deep down, you’re aware that he doesn’t mean to be malicious or to offend, it’s merely him telling his truth.

You grab a few things impulsively with a mundane declaration, before storming off god knows where. “I’m not sleeping here tonight.”

When the door clicks behind your frame, Taehyung backs down and sprawls out across the bed. Truthfully, he regretted his words before he even opened his mouth. But he was so angry, be it with you or with himself.

It just seemed so unfair that you could blow him away time after time and yet, on his date the only thing on his mind was you. The mediocre make-out session and him awkwardly leaving out of nowhere didn’t help, either. And then you had to be so perfect, waiting for him instead of locking his ass out like he thought you would.

It isn’t the girl’s fault she’s raised to be as sweet as sugar while you’re more like citrus. He’s always had a knack for lemons, anyway.

The fact that you spent the rest of the day with Jungkook only aggravates him further, the younger’s words repeating in his head. I tried to hit it off with [Y/n] in high school, or whatever it was that he said exactly. All of this is his own fault, anyway—if he hadn’t been so temperamental, you would’ve stayed with him for the rest of the day.

Taehyung stares at the cheap lights hanging on the ceiling until his eyes hurt that night.

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Half-way through your trek to Hoseok’s room, you crumble. A sob escapes your throat and then another one. After these two instances, your tears don’t cease. 

At first, Jimin is excited to see you at their door but his smile slips the moment he realizes what a bad state you’re in. You’re practically making whale noises while desperately searching for Hoseok. 

“I’ll give you two a moment.” He gives you one final look-over and leaves with a not-so-threatening threat. “Or maybe thirty. You better be smiling and singing Toxic by the time I’m back, [Y/n].”

Hoseok rushes to hug you. “God, girl, what’s wrong?”

“I like Taehyung.” 

“Is that it? You’re a strong girl, y’know, I never pictured you crying over some pretty boy.” 

“No. I’m crying because I’ve liked him all this fucking time and I tried to run away from him because I’m scared. And he said the most horrible thing to me,” you explain as you bury yourself deeper into his embrace. “That’s why I’m crying.”

“I hope he isn’t allergic to hands, because he’s about to catch them. Actually, I hope he is allergic.” Hoseok isn’t one to ask about details. He lets you get it out of your system, makes a few promises (most often of violence) and then allows you to elaborate if you wish to do so.

You laugh, but it turns into choking considering how much snot you have running down your face by now. “He said that he understands why my exes run away from me. I mean, I— I said something rude about him first, but Jungkook was backing me into a corner and I didn’t know he would even find out about it, I just—”

“Forget about him, forget about Jungkook, everyone. Tonight is for Britney,” Hoseok commands more than he asks you.

You smile sadly at him before uselessly wiping your tears away and giggling like you’re on the brink of losing your mind. Perhaps you are.

“My 45-carat booger. Hey, let’s make Jimin do the chicken dance,” Hoseok starts off like he’s coddling you in his strange way of doing so, but then quickly turns diabolical. He throws some tissues at you and you accept them. If there’s one thing you’re truly grateful for, it’d be your best friend.

You nod, suddenly more excited than you should be. Hoseok’s right—you don’t need some pretty boy when queen Britney is watching over you.

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The next day, you’re wearing a full-face of make-up, and Taehyung notices it. Hoseok’s driving and you’re in the passenger seat, talking about some nonsense as usually do. The atmosphere is light, with Jimin and Jungkook occasionally joining in your conversation and Jin sleeping with his forehead pressed against the window.

Truth to be told, Taehyung feels like a zombie right now. Pretending that your scuffle with him meant nothing to you only convinces him further how little you care about anything that has to do with him.

“I think we’ll be in Las Vegas soon,” Hoseok announces cheerily.

On one hand, you’re happy to finally be seeing the end of this road trip. Though you’ve technically just been relaxing, you wanted to be done with your cousin’s dumb wedding and go back to spending an average amount of time with your friends. You want to forget how flippant things are between you and Taehyung, your quote-unquote friendship dictated by mood swings rather than actual feelings.

“Fuck yeah! I wanna get drunk in Vegas,” you say with a smirk. “It’s on my bucket list.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah.”

“You want to get drunk everywhere,” Jungkook corrects with a laugh. You can’t help agreeing with him. “And Jin will probably stay in the hotel and play Candy Crush or something.”

“Ew, ew, ew, a fucking millenial,” you exclaim in mock disgust.

“Jin can be a beast if he wants to. Remember when he twerked in front of the whole school on Taehyung’s birthday party?”

“Shit was wild, man.”

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No one except you, Hoseok and Taehyung himself is aware of what transpired yesterday. So Jungkook and Jin are still stubbornly placing the two of you together, yet you’re too powerless to fight it.

The hotel is a fancy one, courtesy of your annoying cousin. She’s been texting you and you sent a short message back to inform her you’ve arrived, but you haven't bothered to deal with her provocations any further. 

After dumping his luggage near his bed, Taehyung was straight out of the room and you started getting ready. And that was that. 

You feel more like yourself when you find the wine hidden in the fridge, a free present from the hotel. Or maybe your cousin’s way of making peace. Ha, as if that’d happen. 

When Taehyung comes back to get dressed, you’re already tipsy and acting like a fool.

“Drinking already?” There are many things that Taehyung wants to say to you. An apology he’s too sober to say and a confession you’re too drunk to hear, to begin with. 

“It’s pre-game,” you explain dizzily. “You know. I never told you why I hate my cousin so much. She used to bully me and she stole my first boyfriend from me. And we never got past it.”

With your trademark look, high-heels, acrylics, a fancy yet revealing dress along with whatever else you consider fashionable at the moment, Taehyung feels familiarity staring at your lopsided smirk. Though he’s gotten glimpses of other sides of you during these past few days, like how you like cuddling during the night, this is the epitome of who you are.

“Yeah,” he replies agreeably, though you’re not sure what for.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but Hoseok is waiting for me. So, this is bye-bye.” 

“See you there.”

“Probably not.” You snicker. Taehyung can tell that you’re still upset with him.

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You’re so wasted that the things happening around you aren’t really making sense anymore. While you and Hoseok were drinking together for a while, at one point Jungkook whisked him away, then there’s a blank in your memory and now you’re here. Alone. And you’ve lost count of how many drinks you’ve had. 

A man, that’s definitely a few years older than you, finally approaches you after observing you from afar. He says some sort of sleazy line—you’re not sure what it is, you’re not really listening—and offers you a drink. 

You consider him. He’s not your type at all and that pornstache isn’t helping his case but, when you look at Taehyung and see him talking and having fun while you’re being an alcoholic by your lonesome and moping about him, you quickly accept his offer. Pornstache or not. 

“Pick anything you’d like, kitten,” he purrs, in an attempt at being seductive. 

“Well first off I’m not a furry so don’t call me that,” you snap with a self-assured grin. And then you start listing off the most expensive drinks on the menu. 

This man is so enamored by you that he buys you all of them. You’re three steps closer to alcohol poisoning when you clumsily stumble onto the dance floor along with him, running your hand over his jaw in what you believe to be a sensual manner. He seems to dig it, but from an outsider’s perspective the two of you look like junkies trying to get off. 

Your experience in the club is romanticized. The dim lights are reminiscent to those few times you’ve gone to a rave and it reeks of alcohol, overpriced perfumes and sweat. You and your nameless pathetic fan mingle with the grinding crowd and begin imitating them. 

As the poet Lady Gaga once said, “redlight pornographic dance fight”. 

The act itself is indifferent to you. From across the room, Taehyung locks eyes with you and you’re not really sure why but you feel this sudden need to provoke him, even when you know he most likely wouldn’t care. You sloppily kiss your suitor’s cheek while looking at him intensely from across the room. A red trail from your wet lips makes its way down his face.

For the sake of pettiness, you might’ve gone further—I mean, you were already playing some weird game of tug-and-war but with clothes—but you don’t want to know the feeling of this guy’s lips against yours. He finds the mostly innocent action as an invitation, though, and abruptly halts your staring contest with Taehyung by forcing you into a greedy kiss.

Pushing him away, you give him a pointed stare and rejection is clear on his face. “Excuse me…” 

He’s a terrible kisser. 

Pushing through everyone that’s in your way, you make your escape through the first door you find. In your intoxicated parade, you fail to make sense of the words ‘CLOSED’ that are so blatantly taped over the entrance. So, you find yourself in front of a swimming pool. 

The cold breeze outside prickles at your skin unpleasantly, and a quick look around tells you that there’s no one around to put this in their cringe compilation. Apparently more disgusted than you’d initially thought, you puke your guts out in front of the pool. Now light-headed and somehow empty, you stare at your vomit and take a deep breath. 

“Hey, why’d you run away?” Your suitor from earlier appears to have followed you outside. You stare at your feet—doesn’t he understand that you wanted to get away from him?

“You’re a bad kisser,” you say bluntly after getting over your little trance. 

“Give me a chance to change your mind then,” he offers smugly, taking menacing steps towards you. You move away instinctively before you’re quickly backed into a wall, with his two hands trapping you in between. 

Your eyes widen with fear and you sink into yourself. If you had anything else to puke out, you’re sure you would’ve done so at this point. “I have sharp nails and I’m not afraid to use them.”

“Oh, she bites-”

The events that play out next happen so slowly, you’re not sure why you’re surprised. Taehyung appears, and you do see him in your peripheral vision, stares for a bit before knocking the guy out with a punch to his temple. He falls unconscious on the ground.

“Oh god, did I kill him?” he asks, a vacant look on his face. He imagined his first kill to be more thrilling, but on second thought, he’s not sure why he was thinking about that without being under the influence of substances in the first place. 

“I’d be happy if he’s dead, if that helps,” you comment dryly. 

“Do we dump the body in the pool or what?”

The two of you are drunk enough to consider it. Your mind is blank for a bit, before you finally speak up. “I’m trying to think of what I saw on How To Get Away With Murder, but it’s not coming to me. But like, on Blacklisted, there was this guy who like, made the corpses turn to gas or something!”

“You watch too much TV. Also, I’m pretty sure it’s called The Blacklist.”

“Whatever. Do you know how to do that?”

“No.”

“Hey, what’s going on here?” A new voice cuts in.

“You better come up with something convincing or we’ll have to kill him too,” you urge.

“Did you say something?”

“No.”

“Umm, awkward believe it yeah,” Taehyung begins, a strong start. “This guy slipped on her puke and hit his head. And he has a concussion now.”

“Man, that sucks,” the guy says. You’re relieved that he’s as trashed as he is, otherwise the situation would’ve went really badly, considering how Taehyung straight-up lied to his face. “I’ll go call someone over ‘ere.”

Once he’s out of sight, the two of you stare at each other and decide to flee the country. But then change the plan with the more economically-efficient idea to simply leave the club. 

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

“Why were you with that guy anyway?” Taehyung asks. Frankly put, neither of you know where you’re going, but you’re boldly leading him through the artificially-lit streets of Las Vegas as if you’re born there. Where you end up is a concern your sober selves of tomorrow should worry about.

“I wanted to make you jealous,” you reply, bold, like everything you do when you’re drunk is. 

“...I don’t get it.”

“You pissed me off so much yesterday. And you made me jealous when you went out with that cashier. But also, you killed a guy for me, so I guess I’m not mad at you anymore.” 

“Well aren’t you high-maintenance,” he retorts sarcastically, gaining what feels like a confidence spurt because of your sudden confession. “You don’t have anything to be jealous of, anyway. The only thing I had on my mind during that stupid fucking date was you.”

You freeze up. You thought that your own attitude was what made any possibility of him returning your feelings seem laughable. Even if it’s drunk blabber, alcohol is an honesty elixir, at least in your case. “Kiss me?” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice, attacking your lips so eagerly you’d consider it funny if you were in a right state of mind. Still, your reciprocation is just as hungry, so maybe you don’t have any room to laugh. He is indulging you, after all.

The wipeout that happened at the club happens again and you’re left to wonder how things escalated. From teeth clashing against each other in pure excitement, you’re left hovering over Taehyung’s form and straddling him unsteadily.

He reaches under your already high dress and the glimpse of your panties seems to excite him. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this,” he admits breezily. 

You smile, a teasing one, adjusting yourself better. “You don’t need to be so dramatic about it, it’s just underwear.” 

“Dramatic is how many times I’ve jerked off after we went to the supermarket and you flashed me.”

“Ewwww, we shared a bed like three times, freak,” you scold and he pouts when you distance yourself from him. 

“I was just trying to be funny!”

“Not funny. Didn’t laugh. It’s better when you don’t talk,” you instruct before leaning down again to kiss him. At least he’s having fun with groping whatever he can get his hands on. 

“You’re so annoying it turns me on. Always whining, it drives me nuts how much I really like you.”

You snicker. “Well, I sure am feelin’ the love here.”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

When you wake up, you register three things. Four, actually. First—your left shoe is missing. Second— Taehyung is knocked out cold next to you. Third—you don’t know where you are, except for the fact that there’s a garbage bin next to you. Fourth—your head is throbbing with pain and you’re so sore you’re not sure if you can walk. Needless to say, you had the wild night in Vegas you wished for in your bucket list, and you only half-regret it.

You see your shoe discarded near you and nudge it with your toe for a bit before finally gathering enough power to sit up and put it on. Or so you think, because the moment you’re propped in a standing position, you vomit like you did yesterday. 

Speaking of yesterday, the only thing you remember is that you and Taehyung were convinced that he’s now a murderer on the run, confessing your feelings for each other in an anti-climactic manner and then having like seven rounds of public sex. 

With a recap of yesterday’s events, you digress and put your shoe on before reaching in your purse. Surprisingly, you haven’t been robbed. Fishing your phone out, you come to the conclusion that you’ve been knocked out cold for way too long. 

Hoseok has generously spammed you with seventy texts, but you don’t bother to read them, already assuming that the gist is something about where the fuck you and Taehyung are. Instead, you call him immediately. 

“Hi,” you greet casually.

“[Y/n]! Where the fuck are you and Tae? We were so worried. Jin almost declared you two missing. But on the positive side, Jungkook didn’t care because he got food poisoning yesterday at the club.”

“I don’t know where we are, but he’s with me.”

“What do you mean?!”

“I’ll send you my location. I don’t have money for Uber, love you, kisses and hickeys,” you say in one breathe before hanging up quickly and doing what you said you’d do. 

At first, you thought this road trip was an opportunity for you to grow and mature. However, after yesterday’s shenanigans, you’re almost convinced your sociopathic tendencies are now higher by 5%. 

You start shaking Taehyung until he wakes up and swats your arms away. Now upon closer inspection, while you’re aware that you look bad right now, he’s not looking too hot either. The lipstick marks you had left on his face make it look like you’ve either slobbered all over him or that he’s a vampire, you’re not sure. And you’ve bitten him so much somebody could think he got attacked by a racoon judging solely on those bruises.

You quickly explain the situation to him as you’re fixing up your bra and top. Considering the fact that you were bordering on nip-slip territory, that was your priority. Smoothing your dress is easy enough, but your pantyhose is mysteriously ripped in some incriminating places.

He reaches out, rips out the fake eyelash that was pathetically hanging off the corner of your eye and throws it away. You take care of the other one, wipe off your ruined make-up and then wipe off the lipstick on his face. 

Your head hurts so much that you don’t know what to say to break the silence. Though you also don’t doubt that he’s in the position, and so, for the first time it doesn’t feel awkward between the two of you. 

“Hey, [Y/n], are we like… dating now?”

“I think so? You can be my date to the wedding if you want.” 

A dopey smile takes over his face. You realize you’ve made someone this happy before with merely being yourself. It fills you with a kind of warmth you’ve never felt before.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

“Your cousin won’t stop calling you,” Taehyung emphasizes as you’re pointedly ignoring your ringtone while you get ready. Considering the atrocious state both of you came back in, the process taking longer than usual shouldn’t be a surprise. Especially since you had to take turns for the shower.

Also the part where the two of you got into a fight over who should go in first—your thesis being arguably stronger once you mentioned the mud ingrained in the left sole of your feet—only slowed you down further.

“I know right? Can’t this pregnant moron get a life.”

“No, I think she’s calling you because we’re late to the wedding,” he elaborates. “You should pick up.”

“But I hate her!”

“You can roast her at the wedding and I’ll hype you up if you do what I ask.”

“Oh my god, promise?” 

“Promise.”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

“Look who finally showed up,” your cousin greets you with a tight smile. You can only return the sentiment as Taehyung dumbly trails behind you. 

Well, as much as you don’t like your cousin, the wedding is certainly nice. With a light atmosphere and a fancy ceremony, he can’t pretend he hates it—that much is certain. Though he can also tell that it’s a lot of money wasted on food that doesn’t look appetizing in the slightest the more he examines the buffet.

“I see you’re not wearing the dress I shipped to you. Is it too tight, perhaps?” She’s smiling fakely and sweetly as she waits for your answer to her provocation. Of course it’s too tight; what else could it be when she picked it two sizes smaller than what you usually wear. And she did it on purpose too.

Despite the rather mundane conversation happening, the tension is thick.

“I’m going to be quick. You look like a greasy manatee.” You give her your own uptight smile before strutting away, cueing Taehyung to follow after you.

“Pregnancy-shameeeeed,” he yells out as he offers her finger guns and speed-walks in your direction. 

Once he’s caught up with you, he speaks up again. “I know you could’ve been more brutal than that.”

“Oh please, I’m sophisticated, I’d never engage in some barbaric behavior.”

You both burst out laughing at your blatant lie. 

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

“Do you think they’re dating now?” Jin asks, looking at the two of you as you dance and joke around. Though he imagines that you could only be having a deranged conversation, one that isn’t as sweet and lovey-dovey as it might look from an outsider’s perspective, it’s still quite disgusting how smitten Taehyung looks with you. 

“I don’t care,” Jungkook answers. Him saying he doesn’t care is a metaphor for how much he doesn’t care about anything after his food poisoning.

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Oh definitely. I saw them making out near a garbage dumpster when we were driving back to the hotel.”

Seokjin chokes.

#bts scenarios #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #kim taehyung #taehyung scenarios #taehyung imagines #taehyung fluff #bts fanfic #mine

[fanfalc-616]

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Thirteen- Variation One

(Prevoius chapter here)

(Discord Here)

This chapter was originally an RP with @ablackswansweet, and there are two versions- one from both character’s POV. I have Swan’s permission to post this.

Zane warily eyes the young adult who enters alongside Martha. Does she intend to hurt him to force him to do something?

“What do you want?” He questions, hating the resignation in his tone.

He really has begun to give up.

The blond seems oddly excited, considering the circumstances. It looks as though he’s barely containing himself as he comes up to Zane.

He leans into the nindroid’s personal space, studying him closely in a way that once again makes him feel like a studied lab rat.

"I want to learn how you work." The blond smiles deviously. He then grabs Zane’s face and moves it around to inspect it from different angles, and Zane tries to cover up his winces of pain as some of his exposed sensors are touched.

The blond takes a few notes in a notebook before returning to Martha’s side, still with an evil expression.

Zane tries to hide his sigh of relief when the teen leaves. It had taken a lot of impulse control to stop himself from attempting to bite the blond- being manhandled in such a way is a very unpleasant feeling.

“Haven’t you done that enough?” He protests, shifting in his bonds to the best of his ability. “With everything you’ve done to me, I doubt that any competent mechanic would need any more research.”

He glares at the two while he speaks, wishing he still had his faceplate- if only to better emphasize his look of displeasure.

The young man laughs a little, seemingly more to himself than to anyone around him. Yet once again, there’s still an almost cruel aura around him that puts Zane on edge.

"Thing is, Original, I'm not exactly a mechanic. I'm just really, really interested by your wires and gears. And how well they respond to… Certains stimuli," he says.

The teen takes a few more notes before looking to Martha, seeming to wait for approval. She gives it with a nod.

Zane doesn’t quite grasp what is happening until wires are hooked up to him, the blond still seeming to almost shake in his excitement.

He then steps in front of the control panel and looks back to Martha.

Zane feels a wave of unease take over him. Something about this situation is concerning him, and it’s more than the fact that they likely plan to hurt him.

They haven’t given any orders. They haven’t asked any questions. And yet it seems that they plan to hurt him anyway.

They claim that this is training, but at this particular moment, it seems as though this shaping up to be more torture than an attempt at teaching.

“To begin with, my name is Zane, not Original. Second, if you are so interested in ‘wires and gears’ perhaps a robotics course would be a more healthy outlet for you.”

He’s well aware that his words will make no difference, but he attempts to convince the teen to leave him alone anyway.

After a few moments, he adds, “Why are you doing this? I can assure you that I have never meant to cause harm on any innocents.” He glances over at Martha on the last words, noting her displeased expression.

“You can begin whenever you like.” She tells the blond, who hums in response.

"Hey, Original?" He calls out, waiting until Zane looks at him to continue. "You talk a lot."

The young man then pushes a button, and Zane finds himself squirming in his bonds at the uncomfortable feeling. This is far from the worst they have done or can do, but it is still not a pleasant feeling.

He watches as the blond writes something else down, and starts to try and reason with the teen, trying to convince him to stop. He even uses proper manners, but it still seems to have no effect.

When his requests to stop are left ignored, Zane decides to take a new track.

“I suppose I am talking a lot,” he admits, “but not nearly as much as an old friend of mine. Jay couldn’t stay quiet if his life depended on it.”

While starting up a friendly conversation might seem illogical, Zane hopes that it will perhaps give him some insight on the one hurting him. Information about the blond may give him an opportunity to convince him to stop- and perhaps small talk will help him prove that he is seintent.

"Heh, yeah. I had a guy like that in one of my foster homes." The blond smirks, seemingly at the way Zane is surprised. "Didn't end well for him either. No one like a constant source of useless noise, don't you agree?"

Zane isn’t quite sure why he finds him so humorous, but he chooses not to dwell on it, instead trying to find an appropriate response to the words.

"How is your old friend doing now?" The blond smirks as he turns up the voltage, staring Zane dead in the eyes.

Zane struggles to keep a hold of himself, gritting his teeth and trying to maintain the conversation.

And endless source of constant noise? That could be a way to describe it, but Zane has always been fond of Jay’s rambling.

“I haven’t seen him in a while- I’ve been a little…” He glances down at his chains, wincing. “... tied up.”

At this point, it’s likely that the blond has a game of his own if he’s still choosing to continue the small talk- and the large smirk on his face confirms it.

He pauses a moment before continuing. “I don’t think I caught your name, either. What do you go by?”

The blond wears a faux-surprised expression for a moment before answering. "My name's Kyle. He/him, I guess. But I don't think you're going to need to know that."

He returns to slowly upping the charge of the voltage, seeming to reveal in the uncomfortableness that he’s causing.

"Tell me about your other old friends.” Kyle still doesn’t look away. “You said you were dating, right ? How's it like ?" That menacing smile doesn’t fade, and while Zane isn’t quite sure where he’s going with this, surely playing along for the moment couldn’t hurt.

He forces any sign of pain down, attempting to keep up a polite and friendly facade even as the pain increases.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kyle.” He lies. “I don’t recall mentioning that I was in an active relationship, but I suppose that the background research you must’ve done would cover that.”

It is obvious that they know about his boyfriends- how else would they have known to show him what they did in the sensory manipulation?

The pain is still increasing, and it’s becoming harder and harder to pretend as though he’s not hurt.

His breathing has begun to grow heavy, and he’s sure that there are flickers of winces being shown, but he still does his best to maintain his friendly appearance.

"Yeah, I read your file before coming here. Big fan, by the way." Kyle still wears a cruel smile, but it starts to turn more menacing, an evil nature with more purpose. "Wonder how they feel about your self-sacrificing nature," he snarls.

But then he pauses, gritting his teeth. He seems to be trying to keep a hold on himself, but Zane isn’t quite sure what could have triggered it.

Unless… is it possible that his self destruct could have harmed more the way it did Martha?

Zane doesn’t have time to dwell on the thoughts, as he’s suddenly blasted with electricity, and he’s forced to bite back a cry of pain.

Thankfully, it’s only high for a few moments before Kyle lowers it, allowing Zane to regain his composure with a relieved sigh.

Kyle redirects the conversation again. "So, your old friends ?"

Zane decides to instead address the major concern of what may be a part of Kyle’s hostility.

“When I was fighting the Golden Master, I meant no harm to any innocent people. I was built to protect those who cannot protect themselves. I… I understand that in some ways, I have failed this function, but I do my best to help those in need.”

Breathe in, breathe out. Keep calm. He can’t let the pain overtake him- he’s begun to sense that that’s what Kyle wants.

He debates saying more, but chooses to remain silent, waiting for a hopefully diplomatic response.

Kyle sighs and gives him a sharp glare that confirms Zane’s hypothesis. It was likely that his sacrifice had-

He’s cut off from his thoughts by a spike of electricity, and it takes quite a bit of willpower to prevent himself from shouting out at the pain.

Unfortunately, it appears that his pained reaction pleases Kyle, who is now smiling again.

"You didn't answer my question, Original. How was life with your… Boyfriends ? Kai Smith, Jay Walker and Cole Brookstone, yeah ?" He smiles as he emphasises the last names, a menacing threat behind his words.

Zane feels everything in his body go rigid, and with his concentration now centered on the others, he knows that he is having more acute reactions to the pain.

He hates the small whimper that escapes him, but he ignores it in favor of speaking, addressing the underlying threat of his words.

“You do not touch them.” He snarls. “If you hurt them, I swear on the First Spinjitzu Master that I will hunt you down to the ends of the-“ Zane finds himself cut off with a cry of pain as the voltage is jammed up.

"Calm down. I didn't even actually threaten them yet," The blond mutters to himself. Thankfully, it’s not long before he lowers the voltage, and when he does Zane is able to breathe again.

But his panic is still running high. He had all but directly said that-

"If I wanted to truly use them as hostages, I'd tell you I know which shop they go to every two weeks to buy supplies and food, which is the one at the end of the main avenue."

The voltage begins to increase, and Zane wants to be listening, but he can only just make out his words, in too much pain to think straight.

"I'd tell you we have live feed of them almost every day and everywhere they go."

Zane hates the loud screams escaping him, but he can’t even focus on them, all of his attention forcefully grabbed by the pain and the threats, the way he threatens the ones he loves-

"Or… I'd tell you how one of them already got arrested once, and how easy it is to transfer prisoners or fake an accident."

Zane can feel the way his body is reaching the maximum limits of what it can handle, he can’t handle much more of this, this will kill him, he can’t possibly-

When the power is shut off, Zane finds himself sobbing, thankful that it’s gone, the pain is gone, but he still has fear running through him, fear of what could possibly happen to the ones he loves.

Kyle walks up to him, and Zane hates the fact that he flinches, and he hates even more the smile the teen wears when he does.

"Don't you dare threaten me or her ever again. Remember who holds the power here," the blond mutters in his ear before going back over to Martha, checking his notebook.

Zane doesn’t have it in him to be ashamed of how much he had screamed when the voltage was on maximum power- or at least, what had felt like it.

He wants to retort, to tell the boy that will protect his boyfriends to the death, to tell him that he is more than a machine, to tell him that he will threaten him again if he has to.

But he can’t find the words. He’s too tired to come up with proper sentences.

The part of him that spends too much time with Kai urges him to tell the teen a string of insulting curse words, but Zane ignores it.

When the two leave the room, Zane doesn’t even bother saying a farewell.

What’s the point in it, anyway?

#the rights of a nindroid #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago zangst #psychological torture #torture #trauma

[pastel-garbage-does-art]

Breakfast Invitation

Hey!! This is my first time posting a fic to Tumblr-- but I’m hecka proud so... :)

This is an entry I wrote during this weeks writing challenge in a discord server I’m in! I hope you like it, and if you want me to post more fics here as well I might start doing that :D

Trigger Warnings -- slightly unsympathetic Roman, anGst... tell me if I missed something and I’ll add it!

Ship -- Hints at Moceit, but is up to your perception.

Plot -- Janus gets another visit from Patton after his name reveal, and makes a deal he may not regret after all... maybe mornings are more of his thing now.

Breakfast Initiation

Janus ran a hand through his hair, sighing quietly. He set his hat on the dark oak nightstand, then thought back to when he revealed his name. While it was reassuring to have Thomas trust him for now, it still hurt that practically none of the others did.

He shook his head, laughing dryly before taking his capelet off and tossing it in the general direction of his closet. He heard a knock at his door and immediately knew by the softness who it was.

"Come in, Patton." He mumbled, looking over his shoulder to see the door open slowly.

Patton peeked his head in, then gave a small smile and a wave. "Hey, Janus."

Janus took his gloves off, and indicated with one hand for Patton to actually come into his room as he set them on top of his hat. "Hello, do you need something? Or do you just enjoy my company?" He joked with a smirk, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh," Patton closed the door quietly, then walked over to look at Janus nervously, "Well, I kinda got the sense you were having some... icky feelings." He fidgeted with his cardigan sleeves, waiting for a reply. But Janus was slightly speechless. It'd been so long since anyone had genuinely asked how he felt, and he didn't know how to reply.

"No... must be someone else." He smoothed back his hair with one hand, smiling. He faltered as Patton crossed his arms.

"Janus, don't lie to me right now. Please." His firm tone softened, "I know I haven't, well, been the best towards you in the past," he ignored Janus' small huff of disbelieving laughter, "but I do mean it when I say that I'm worried. I haven't felt such a strong wave of negative emotion from anyone since I met Virgil."

"Are you done with the self-righteous speech?" Janus muttered, raising a brow. He could've been mistaken, but he swore that Patton flinched, a flash of hurt in his eyes. "We both know I'm fine." He didn't mean to sound so harsh, but he was tired of Patton suddenly trying to be a saint. It was probably the fifth time this week, and it was only Wednesday mind you, that Patton had casually 'dropped by'.

"Janus-- I really do mean it! Won't you just talk to me? I've apologized, and I know I was wrong, so come on!" Patton raised his voice, surprising both of them. "I didn't mean to yell, I'm sorry." He whispered, glancing down at his wrist as he messed with his bracelets.

Janus let out a breath, "Okay. If I tell you how I'm feeling, will you stop?" Patton hesitated, then nodded meekly. "Fantastic. Yes, I feel 'icky', but you shouldn't be surprised. I finally reveal that I'm not trying to do anything awful or be a bad guy, but now I feel more hated than ever." He leaned down slightly, glaring, but not necessarily intending it to be directed at Patton alone. "And now I have someone who keeps coming to my room to see if I'm..." he trailed off, the heat dying in his words as he realized something, mumbling the last part, "okay."

God, he was an idiot. Patton was Morality. Why would he of all people come here to mock him by pretending to care? He wouldn't. Turns out he just has such high built walls that he automatically assumed Patton was out to get him by worming his insecurities out of him.

"Oh. I see." Patton said quietly, looking away. "Well, we had a deal so... I'll see you around." The now-defeated side turned away, and suddenly a flood of guilt rushed at Janus. He grabbed Patton's hand, gripping it tightly, "Please, Patton, don't leave." He choked, desperation in his voice. Tears were welling up in his eyes now, and he realized just how badly he'd wanted someone to reach out to him all this time.

"I thought you didn't want me here.", Patton replied, sounding bitter but looking surprised. It was more a statement than a question, considering Janus had pretty much indirectly said as much.

"How could you ever think that?" Janus brought Patton close to his chest, hugging him and mumbling into his hair.

"Well, you made it pretty clear before." He replied, not pushing away, but not hugging back either.

"I... I'm sorry Patton. This whole time you've been trying to be nice to me, and I thought it was a trick. I'm so used to being on my own that I tried pushing you away so I didn't have to get hurt." He pulled back just enough to look at Patton face-to-face. "And in doing so I hurt you, didn't I?"

Patton frowned, then nodded, suddenly teary. He hugged Janus back, hiding his face in his shirt out of embarrassment. "I just want to do my best to right my mistakes, Janus. I know I've treated you bad, and the others have too..." He looked up at him, "I think if they see that I'm okay with you, they'll start to be nicer."

Janus sighed, "Alright. How about a new agreement?" He offered with a small smile. Patton was a bit hesitant given the first 'deal' they made, but nodded, looking up at him and wiping at his eyes under his glasses. "From now on I'll stop pushing you away, and I'll come to whatever breakfast or hangout you invite me to instead of refusing. And in return, I just ask you to be honest to me too and... be my friend."

Smiling, he could tell Janus was a bit nervous about his request. Patton nodded again, but this time he wasn't hesitant. "Silly, you don't have to ask me to be your friend with a deal. I already want to be!" It was a bit surprising to Janus as to how much that relaxed him, but they were both glad that they finally got over things. "Well, I guess now that we've agreed on that..." Patton grinned mischievously.

"Oh no, what are you thinking?" Janus narrowed his eyes, speaking in a mostly playful tone.

"Join us for breakfast tomorrow?" Patton gave him little puppy eyes, making him sigh and smile. So it was true that nobody could say no to that look, huh?

"Alright, I'll see you then."

"Yes! Patton~ did a good thing~!" Janus laughed, and a second later Patton followed suit with little giggles. "Night, Jan." Seeing the taller side's surprise, he quickly added, "Sorry, I won't call you that if you don't want me to."

At this point, they'd separated from the hug, so he put an ungloved hand on Patton's shoulder and smiled. "No, it's okay. As long as I get to call you Pat." He teased.

"Okay!" Patton beamed, making Janus melt a bit. "See ya then!" He left, still smiling warmly.

"Here goes nothing." Janus sighed, shaking his head fondly before getting ready for bed.

                                              ★★★★★★★★

That morning Janus went down to the living room, looking around a bit as he didn't usually get the chance to see the difference between the real world one and the one the 'lights' occupied.

"Jan!" He nearly jumped out of his skin, whipping to look at the kitchen. Ah, it was just Patton.

"Good morning Pat," He walked over to the kitchen, leaning in the doorway and smiling, "What smells so good?"

Patton beamed, "I'm making pancakes! They have blueberries in them too." He turned back to the stove to check on the one currently in the pan, then flipped it.

"Sounds good." Janus pushed off the wall and began walking over to Patton to see if he wanted help, but was hit in the side of the head with a projectile pair of headphones. "Ow--"

"Why Is HE here?" Hissed a voice from the living room. Janus picked the headphones up from where they had fallen to the floor with a gloved hand, then looked up to see Virgil glaring at him.

"Ah, Virgil, morning. I think you dropped something." He held up the headphones to show, and smirked.

Patton glanced nervously between the two, then smiled at Virgil. "Now, Kiddo, that wasn't very nice. I invited Janus to have breakfast with us, so please apologize."

Virgil opened his mouth to argue, then let out a frustrated huff. Nobody could argue with Patton over something like this, so he begrudgingly muttered, "Sorry."

"It's alright." Janus shrugged, not in the mood to fight with him. This took Virgil by surprise, so he just stared as Janus walked over and held the headphones out. He honestly already felt out of place, so he wasn't about to give a reason to be shunned again, even if he wanted to make a mean-spirited remark.

"Okay," Virgil replied in an annoyed tone, snatching the headphones from Janus' hands and putting them back on, crossing his arms and sitting on the couch.

Janus sat at the dining table, Patton having added a fifth chair for him. He idly waited, fiddling with his gloves before looking up at Logan, whose footsteps had paused in the kitchen doorway suddenly. "Hello." He mumbled, waving.

"Janus. Good morning, I was not aware you'd be joining us this morning." Logan walked over to the table, sitting in his spot and closing his book.

"Oh, Patton invited me last night."

"So you finally stopped rejecting his attempts to talk to you." Logan scoffed, not trying to be mean, but most definitely having been annoyed when Patton whined in distress to him.

"... That I did." He looked down at his hands on the oak table, and they fell back into silence, the only sound being Patton humming as he finished cooking.

Logan finally spoke again, looking up from his book to realize he made the other more uncomfortable than he already was. "Janus, do excuse me, I didn't mean to be rude. It's only that I've seen how upset Patton was every time you rejected his attempts. I still am 'on the fence' about you, but if he has invited you to join us then it is illogical for me to intervene."

Janus smiled slightly, "Thanks, Logan." The other only nodded, fixed his glasses, then continued reading.

"Alrighty, everyone!" Patton beamed, making the three in the room look at him. "Breakfast is ready!" He put the plated pancakes at all five spots at the table, then looked around. "Where's Roman?"

"No clue," Virgil mumbled, walking into the kitchen and sitting in his chair, Logan thankfully sitting between him and Janus to prevent any bickering.

"It is likely he simply woke up late. I heard him singing whilst writing down ideas late last night, so it must have taken a toll." Logan stated as he set his book aside and picked up his fork.

"Well, if he doesn't come down in a few minutes I'll go get him. Poor kiddo must be tired!" Patton sat down, and they all began eating in relative quiet, occasionally talking or asking Patton if he added something to his recipe. Janus smiled a bit. Sure, Virgil was still upset at him, but it was nice to spend the morning around others and eat something that wasn't days old or burned. Neither he or Remus were very good cooks, and food poisoning was common with them.

Roman finally bounded into the kitchen, "I have arrived! Excuse my lateness, I was getting extra beauty sleep!" He went and sat at his seat, and Janus watched him while continuing to eat, wondering why he hadn't said anything to him.

"Great, now I have to look at Princey's face?" Virgil teased, rolling his eyes.

"Haha, very funny Panic! At The Everywhere." Roman shot back, picking up his fork.

"Good morning, Kiddo!" Patton smiled at their banter, standing up to take his and Logan's plates as they'd both finished eating already.

"Morning Patton--" He cut himself off as he noticed Janus and stood up abruptly, literally whisking out his sword to pointing it at Janus, who leaned away a bit, dropping his forkful of pancake back onto his plate. "Caution! The Reptilian Rapscallion has infiltrated our kitchen!"

Patton put the plates in the sink and frowned, "Roman--"

But surprisingly, Logan interrupted, soundly moderately irritated, "Considering Janus has a plate of half-finished pancakes and his own chair at the table, he has not infiltrated anything. It is illogical to assume he was not invited, so please do put away your sword." He firmly stated, staring him down till he lowered the sword and sheathed it safely.

"Why is he here?" Roman glared at Janus, who stared back with a bit less intensity, not wanting to back down but also not wanting to cause more trouble.

"Because I invited him, Kiddo." Patton put a hand on his shoulder, smiling softly up at him. "It's alright." Roman stared at him in disbelief, then groaned and sat back down.

"So that's why you made blueberry pancakes!" Roman outburst seconds later, gasping as he looked back at his plate.

Patton laughed nervously, blushing in embarrassment. "Yep!"

"You dare initiate him without a group decision?" Roman narrowed his eyes at Patton, but there was no heat in his gaze. Virgil let out an annoyed sigh, setting his fork down after finishing his pancakes.

"Roman, I think we all know there is no stopping him. I'm clear proof of that." Janus looked at the emo in surprise, considering he threw his headphones at him that very morning. But he really did just look like he wanted this to be over, accepting that Patton was too kind to let Janus be shunned

"But..."

"No buts! Now eat up Roman! We have a long morning~!" Patton beamed.

Was Janus missing something, or did everyone but him know what that meant? Well... here goes nothing. He laughed quietly, a bright and happy noise, and the atmosphere lightened a bit as everyone resumed eating and chatting.

And that’s the end!

I hope you enjoyed :D

I actually didn’t add the second half to my entry, but I kept it in my post just because of the headphone toss lmao... I won first somehow,, Here’s Jamus’ drawing ^^

#sanders sides #janus #patton #roman #virgil #logan #sympathetic janus #ilovemyboys #idkwhatelsetotag