#also could be titled: deceit tries to solve everything

[4ragon]

Can't speak for anyone else but I for one would love an incoherent rant about the dark age of the law plotline

Alright buckle up kiddos.

So I have a lot of complaints with Dual Destinies as a whole. It’s a poorly paced mess, the final confrontation was deeply underwhelming, it has all these weird “Gotcha” moments where they put in the most bizarre, logic breaking plot twists and then undo them within ten minutes completely for shock value. And yet, despite all of these issues, there is nothing in this world that pisses me off more than the words “The Dark Age of the Law.”

I hate the Dark Age of the Law subplot more than literally any other thing in Ace Attorney. It is a complete failure of a story in literally every possible way. It not only doesn’t work within the context of Dual Destinies, it also completely flies in the face of everything we understand about the original trilogy! It!!!! Sucks!!!!

But no. That was too coherent. I think we should break this down.

First I’m going to start on a macro level. The Dark Age of the Law is the clearest indication to me that the writers of Dual Destinies never played another Ace Attorney game. They treat this Dark Age of the Law thing like this big bad, this shiny new toy, this never before seen wonder, but??? Corruption has been a CENTRAL part of every single AA game since game one!! Since case 2 even!!!

The Dark Age of the Law is this whole idea that people have lost their trust in the court system. And what do they site as the catalyst for this breaking of trust? Phoenix Wright’s disbarment and Simon Blackquill’s arrest.

And okay. Phoenix Wright’s disbarment is a reasonable one. Phoenix was sort of known for being this paragon of truth and justice, this man willing to do what it took to find the truth and protect people in need. His name being smeared through the mud could very well shake up the foundations of trust that the people had in the court system.

But Simon Blackquill? Simon FUCKING Blackquill shook up people’s faith in the court system?? Simon Blackquill is the reason that people are convinced that the entire system is full of lies and deceit? SIMON CONFESSED!! He didn’t even do anything corrupt!! He murdered a woman, sure, but he then immediately lets everyone know “Yes, I super did this murder. No one else.” And they treat it like it’s this big turning point??

LANA SKYE!! You guys remember Lana Skye? The Chief Prosecutor at the time, who was accused of murder, and who still went to prison for doing like a million other crimes after being blackmailed by the chief of police.

SPEAKING OF WHICH the fucking CHIEF OF POLICE was a murderous monster who blackmailed people and also murdered. Did that have no effect on people’s trust in the courts?

Manfred von Karma? Never lost a case in 40 years, literally everyone talked about how he and Miles were KNOWN to be corrupt? Also, you know, murdered a man in cold blood?

Blaise Debeste??? Chairman of the fucking ETHICS BOARD???????? Like!!! That’s some deep fucking corruption right there!!!! And he constantly talks about the mysterious disappearances around him of people who disagreed with him, does that not shake your faith?!

In Turnabout Sisters, as early as case 1-2, Redd White calls up the Chief Prosecutor (who also is not Lana, just to be clear) and demands his complicitness in covering up his own crimes. That’s how central corruption is to the entirety of Ace Attorney.

And you’re going to look me in the fucking EYES and tell me Simon Blackquill, some 21 year old nobody with no power or influence, who theoretically stabbed a woman and made no effort to cover that up, is the reason the courts have lost the faith of the people? You have the NERVE??? the AUDACITY??? the fucking GALL????? to tell me that SIMON is what caused this? The system was never trustworthy, and if it was, what the FUCK did Simon have to do with changing that???

Horrible. Terrible. Disgusting.

BUT

Let’s pretend for a moment that Dual Destinies existed in a vacuum. First Ace Attorney game you’ve ever played. Never touched another one in your life. If you were unfamiliar with the world that Ace Attorney has already spent six games establishing, does the Dark Age of the Law subplot hold up?

No. No it doesn’t.

So as I’ve said a million times before, it was clear that Dual Destinies should not have tried to juggle three protagonists. It just didn’t work. They learned their lesson and booted Athena out of that protagonist title in SoJ, and as much as I hated that decision, it was at least a much stronger overarching story for it.

Now. There were three main throughlines in Dual Destinies. Athena’s story centered on introducing her, of course, but it also was about her struggle to save a friend who needed saving from the law and also himself. It was very AA1 in that way.

Apollo’s story was a little harder to outline, because a lot of it is saved for the last couple of cases, but it’s really about his relationship with Athena. Coming to trust her, his trust in her being shaken, struggling to overcome that, grief, loss, yadda yadda, and I have my criticisms of how it’s handled, but that’s the gist of it.

And Phoenix needed a story. So they made up this stupid fucking bullshit garbage and dumped it in his lap and said “Here you go, best friend! Our dear money maker! This is what you’re working with!” And then they proceeded to use it to beat the shit out of Phoenix until he started spitting out dollar bills.

Okay no sorry I have no idea what the fuck I just said but liSTEN

The Dark Age of the Law storyline was clearly supposed to have some significant thematic relevance to the story, given how hard they were hammering it into us in case three. It was supposed to mean something, and I think it was supposed to mean something to Phoenix in particular. After all, he and Miles won’t stop TALKING ABOUT IT GOD MAKE THEM SHUT UP

The Dark Age of the Law subplot had nothing to do with that final case. Remove it, and nothing changes, because, again, Simon had nothing to do with the corruption in the first place, and the Phantom certainly had nothing to do with corruption. It’s so surface level. “Uh oh, people don’t like the courts. If you can solve this unrelated crime, everything will be fixed.” And then he does (also Athena should’ve been the one to win the case, but that’s a different problem) and nothing ever comes of it, other than “Hooray, you fixed the corruption!” He didn’t??? Miles what the fuck are you talking about????

If they had woven in the corruption throughout the story somehow, maybe it would’ve found some way to be impactful? But it was a floundering, half-thought-out subplot in an already bloated game that failed to give any meaning or help anyone develop as a character. Hell, it kept falling out of relevancy and only popped in to rear its head when the writers remembered it existed and decided to have yet another person remind us that THIS IS IMPORTANT GUYS NO REALLY.

Like! Okay. What if they tied it more to AA4? I mean Phoenix’s disbarment and subsequent return could’ve actually affected the plot. Have people actively mistrust Phoenix or something. Or maybe have it affect anyone in any way. Sure it divides the fucking high schoolers for that mess of a “power of friendship” storyline, but so could a plot about, I don’t know, electing a homecoming queen or something. It affected Athena for one case, but what did that even teach her other than “Trust your gut, sweetie, don’t do lawyer crimes!” Phoenix didn’t have an arc in this game, and he shouldn’t have had to, unless it was coming to grips with the fact that he was never going to get those 7 years of his life back and the smears against his character were always going to linger. But they didn’t do that, they just needed him in there for brand recognition.

I can handle a lot of bullshit in these bullshit lawyer games. That’s part of the appeal. But unlike most of the other bullshit, this particular threat was unsatisfying, meandering, and unnecessary.

[shadowturtlesstuff]

Dress

reputation-cressworth

so the song dress by taylor swift screams cressworth to be, the sort of mutual pining and honest love they have for each other. so i wrote a semi canon but not at all canon peice. (4k words)

                                              ><><><><><><

The night was lasting forever, time dragged on as people danced and drank and celebrated, despite there still being a murderer roaming the streets and slaughtering innocent women. They acted like they could never be injured by the killer just because of their class, when for all anyone knew the killer was in this room right now plotting. I hoped they started with me, just so I didn't have to experience this torture any longer; although it was highly unlikely seeing as they focused on lower class women. A pity, really, I could think of many who deserve it more. I could think of only one one person in this room that perhaps didn't deserve to suffer the fate three women already have. 

Audrey Rose Wadsworth.

Perhaps my only friend in this god-forsaken world. One that I cannot even spend time with, as one would like. It's an absurd notion but one that I can't ignore otherwise I've no job and I don't think Jonathan Wadsworth would take me on knowing I’m currently working for his rival, even if I quit myself and I did everything in my power to show off my exceptional talents and gain his trust. Especially if he finds out I'm madly in love with his niece; and have been for awhile. I must admit it was never my intention to do so, or to even be her friend, but when you are trying to solve the same crimes you tend to run into each. Often. And so overtime we became friends, begrudgingly on her part. Then, when we faced danger a few weeks back, and I thought I'd lose her over my actions and Oliver's inability to tell me the truth, we kissed. Since then we have been trying to navigate our feelings whilst also pretending to not know each other. It is incredibly difficult not to walk over to her now, take her hands and offer a dance. To then kiss her and watch her cheeks redden and her to smile at me. To know I made her smile. Each smile melts the coldness of my heart that I've spent years creating to protect myself. I believed I needn't ever need a friend nor wife. Yet, perhaps, someday Audrey could be both of those and we wouldn't need to freeze our hearts to protect ourselves.

 All night I've been trying to catch her gaze but her eyes refuse to meet mine, at least with my knowledge that is. I caught her staring when she believed I was otherwise engaged in something so that I wouldn't notice. I notice every time. It's been a fun game, the only good thing about this evening. It is someone's birthday, someone my father deems important enough to drag me along too. Even though he hates me, and I him. Even though I have no intention of finding a wife this way or taking over his business. Audrey Rose was an unexpected gift, at this party and my life. I hadn't realised she'd be here with her family but I should have assumed. Or asked, but we had only seen each other once since the kiss and most of that time was spent discussing corpses and the no longer occasional flirting. She is remarkably good at getting under my skin, at leaving me without words and making me want to just hold her in my arms for both our sakes. Her uncle and my boss would be furious if they found out we'd been sharing theories, but unlike my boss I want to solve the case to get a murderer off the streets and not the fame; Audrey Rose is utterly horrified by the grotesk way women are being violated. So the more we work together the faster we can solve it for good. 

‘You think they know more than us?’ I hear vaguely, I pull my eyes away from Audrey Rose and grimace. Mr. Douglas caught me staring but assumed it was over Jonathan Wadsworth and about the murders. 

“There's a high chance sir.” Mainly due to the man's ignorance and my inability to share my ideas with him. He takes a seat next to me so I sit straighter and force myself not to look at Audrey Rose. “I've heard the girl, what's her name?”

“Audrey Rose Wadsworth, sir.” I tell him as plainly as possible.

“Right, sure. I've heard she's helping him. I've no idea why such a pretty thing would waste her life pretending to be a detective but-”

“What?” I was going to strangle him. His complete and utter ineptitude towards Audrey Rose, to how women truly were versus what they are perceived as in society was astonishing. I would truly strangle him if I wasn't as shocked. And if I didn't have to hide my feelings for her. 

“I know I was baffled when I heard it too, she'll make herself unavailable if she keeps the way she's going.” he doesn't take his eyes off her as if he wanted to be the one to make her unavailable and not science. Even though that notion was outrageous. I rolled my eyes at him as a brilliant idea struck. 

“Hear me out, sir, what if I pursue her? I mean if she is one for science she will know about the case and I doubt she knows me so I can easily charm her and I can get whatever information I can to help us solve the case faster.” I try to explain my plan in a non desperate way. Hopefully he will think I believe Audrey Rose is incapable of figuring out deceit and that she'll just spill her guts to me; that I don't care about the case. When, in reality, I just want one dance with her. I'm exasperated in hiding my feelings and it's only been a few weeks. Maybe it would be a lot easier to try and beg for an apprenticeship with Jonathan Wadsworth than deal with this misogynistic self centered-

“Not a half bad idea. For once you have got a decent plan. Although maybe I should be the one to charm her, seen as your, well, you have as much charm as a brick wall to put it simply. So let me-”

“I'm more than capable.” I say and get out of my chair and start striding towards her before he can get there first. If he even opened his mouth to her she would berate him so heavily that he would have to hibernate until people forget. Not that Audrey Rose is forgettable in any way.  Maybe I should've let him try first just to see that. Alas, I need to at least have a conversation with her. I made my way to her table, her father and brother were conversing and her uncle looked about as miserable and irritated as I did. Audrey Rose just looked bored. 

She looks beautiful though, her pale green and blue dress offsets her darker features and highlights her dazzling eyes. The light reflects off her perfectly, showing her sharp features and illuminating her mothers necklace at her chest. When I finally reach her table her eyes find mine and red begins to line her cheeks and her brows furrow at the sight of me. I notice slightly her father and brother cease to be as they look at me as well. 

“May I borrow your daughter for a dance, sir?” I asked him. He looks confused but I'm sure he realized who I am. Who my father is. I'm sure his mind is filled with implications about what the title could do for him if we were to be wed. 

“Cert-”

“No.” her uncle interjects. Her father looks furious, brother amused and her aunt; I hadn't even noticed her aunt was there with I assume her cousin. 

“What do you mean no? She's my daughter I suggest you-”

“No. Mr. Cresswell, what are you doing? You do not wish to seek out my niece for the case do you? If so, leave now.”

I blink at the tone. Of course he'd see through it; however he is technically wrong. 

“No sir, I can see why you'd think that but I truly wish to dance. Your daughter is captivating.” I would rather seek the end of the killer's knife than continue this conversation. 

“I shall dance with you Mr. Cresswell.” Audrey Rose seems inclined to inflict the same fate as me. Without listening to the rest of her family she walks towards the dance floor so I follow her. She hesitantly puts her arms on my shoulders and I put my own on her waist. I feel lighter than I have all evening; as though I've had many drinks of champagne and Mrs Harvey's tonic. I give her a genuine smile and feel her own tension release. 

“I'm glad you saved me. I've been dreadfully bored.” She greets me in such an improper and Audrey Rose way that I laugh.

“I'll always be the one to save you Wadsworth. I am your Dark Prince. Be sure to think about me and my heroic nature whenever you're alone.” 

“Please.” She begins as we start to sway, “I have more important things to consider than you.” She tries to be serious but it is not her strongest ability when talking to me. 

“You look beautiful, Audrey Rose.” She rolls her eyes at me despite her blush. “The dress is magnificent, compliments you perfectly, although completely unnecessary, I'm sure you are perfectly capable of rendering me speechless without a dress on at all.”

Her eyes widen at such scandalous words and her cheeks redden even more but her eyes dazzle with the promise of mischief. “You claim I render you speechless yet you still speak? Are you lying or just horribly bad at compliments? Or, you hate the dress but need to charm me nonetheless?”

“Wadsworth, darling, please, do you really think that little of me? I'm merely stating the obvious, it's what I do best. And I don't need to charm you when you are already infatuated with me. If I were you I would be. And as much as you truly render me speechless with your brilliant mind, I adore your body too, an added bonus, but I will always be able to tell you how astonishing you look.”

She focuses on my face, searching for something, perhaps a lie but she finds none and smiles at me, the sweetest little smile, and I debate placing a chaste kiss to her smiling red lips to also show her how honest I am right now but know that I cannot. Not yet. So I pinch her waist slightly and she lets out a tiny squeak and pinches me back. 

“It is a good job you are not me then isn't it?” She recovers perfectly and has the audacity to look smug at me. I press my hand to my chest and gawk at her. I'm losing the battle of wits, unsurprisingly, so I move the conversation along to try and turn it back in my favour.

“I've enjoyed the game tonight, our secret moments in this crowded room no one knows about. Each little glance at me gives my heart a rush. Makes it worth being at this blastidly boring event. I've missed you.”

We remain in comfortable silence, my last confessions washing over us both. 

“When does this get easier?” She whispers to me, her eyes finding mine, glassy as she contemplates what is running rampant in her mind. “I want to stay with you all night, but after this we must return to our lives, I go back to being judged for my curiosity and you will go back to the animatronic villain the world thinks you are. When does it get easier Thomas?” 

I keep us spinning, holding onto her waist and not ready to let her disappear. She's right. It's a horrible wait to be away from her and having to wear my armour everyday. It's even harder for her to try and have a career in science and not have someone by her side, completely by her side. There must be something we can do, I can do, to make our lives better. 

“Wadsworth, how much does your uncle hate me?” A plan begins to form in my head. One I've been debating for a while. Her eyes narrow knowing I have a plan but she must be so tired as she doesn’t bother asking what and says: 

“He doesn't hate you, at least I don’t think he does. He- he isn't a person who gives positive opinions on anyone. Even me. But no, I do not think he hates you, just Mr. Douglas. Oh but he doesn't like that you are working against us. For him no less.” 

“It's not ideal, I despise him, he doesn't care about the cases, but of the fame; it makes me near vomit whenever he speaks about the women- or any woman for that matter.”

She hums in agreement, her uncle must have told her all this. “Audrey Rose, if I were to quit would your uncle offer me an apprenticeship?”

“I think so but why?”

“There are more benefits in working with your uncle than that egotistical man. The main one being right in front of me.” The words leave my mouth before I consider the consequences. I feel her grip on my shoulders tighten slightly, her gaze fixed intently at my eyes, seeking something, and her body has stopped swaying to the music. I smile, hoping to convey the utmost truth in my words. She sees it and begins to sway again, looking away and trying to calm her heart. I attempt the same. 

“You could talk to my uncle tonight, I'm sure he'd much rather discuss the case or anything remotely close to work rather than listening to my aunt.”

“Would you want me to work alongside you Wadsworth because if not I can-”

Her head whips up to me and I cringe, I've said something wrong, I just assumed she wanted to see me. “Do not finish that sentence Thomas. Of course I want you to work with me and my uncle.” 

“My brilliance is desperately needed isn't it? I mean you cannot resist my charm.” I smile and her own graces her face and the mere sight of her happy because of me makes my heart want to burst. I'm almost certain it will. She quickly acts unimpressed and rolls her eyes at me.

“No, I'm merely the one saving you from that- that man before he rots the only decent part of your brain.” She smirks at me and it's my turn to roll my eyes. 

“If you are the one saving me, will you be like the heroes in the books, because I do recall that they always give their saved maidens a kiss once they are saved?” 

Her eyes widen and her cheeks turn a deep red as she hits my arm lightly. I take that as yes as I laugh at her. The song is ending, and we've already had two dances. I should take her back to her table, I should talk to her uncle. I should do anything but kiss her. But I want to. 

Thankfully she has more self control and leads us back to her table. I stand awkwardly until she rolls her eyes at me and pushes the chair next to her with her feet for me to sit. I scowl at her slightly before meeting the gazes of all the males in her life and I revisit my early thought to perhaps dance with the murderer instead. Her father orders one of the waiters to bring a glass of champagne but I'd rather smoke. Not that this is a place to do so. The silence drowns me as the glass is set in front of me. My hands find the base and I begin to mess with the glass. Now would not be the best time to bring up the case because Jonathan Wadsworth is glaring at me. His brother elbows him slightly and then looks at me with a plastered smile. Jonathan promptly leaves in search of food and I contemplate what would be worse. Trying to follow him or stay. I steal a glance at Audrey-Rose but she has a smile dancing on her face. 

“So Mr. Cresswell, my son has been telling me a bit about you, what is it you do again?” 

“I'm a scientist sir.” His face drops and I look at Audrey Rose. 

“Surely a man of your title would pursue something other than that?”

“Science isn't about titles sir, it's just the pursuit of knowledge. You must want to know how things work, how things are made. I enjoy learning about the body, the world and how it works.” He narrows his eyes slightly and I feel as though I'm on a tightrope; any wrong word and he will push me off. Mr. Wadsworth looks at his daughter for a second before returning his attention back to his son. Once again I steal a glance at Audrey Rose and hers in on her own glass. So her father dislikes her pursuit of science. So he dislikes me too. I try and hide my contemptment and so I tap the table trying to get her attention and she looks up at me and I give her a warm smile, just for her. Only ever for her. She returns the sentiment and all I want to do is envelop her in a hug and tell her it is okay to want to pursue science. 

We remain in silence, I wonder whether I should go back to my own table but I cannot seem to be able to. Jonathan Wadsworth returns, taking a seat beside me. He is silent for some time so I speak before I begin bouncing my leg up and down. 

“Would it be okay for me to attend your school sir?” I look at his face and it reveals nothing. 

“Yes,” I sigh in relief, perhaps if I show my abilities there he will offer me an apprenticeship. I hear Audrey Rose also sigh, but for a different reason. I assume she has had no luck in being able to attend, and all it took was me asking. “On one condition,” Jonathan interrupts my thoughts, “you must stop working for Mr. Douglas.” It's a fair condition, he cannot have someone learning his theories on the crime and have them report back to someone. I consider asking to allow Audrey Rose to join me as my own stipulation but don't want to push my luck. Yet. I will ask in the future.

“Of course.” Tomorrow I shall resign, then make sure I spend lunch with Audrey Rose and discuss helping her attend the school. Not that she needs help, but I'm sure just offering her my assistance and giving her the choice to use it will be beneficial to her.

I return back to my table, albeit very reluctantly, and give some information to Mr. Douglas. I choose to ignore the surprise on his face over the fact I have some, despite me having had it for over a week now. I choose to ignore the look he gives Audrey Rose too. That is until I follow his now frowning gaze to where she is storming out of the room. He goes to stand, as though he could ever help, so I wave a hand at him and casually walk out after her. I find her nearer the edge of the garden, hands running over her arms and tears threatening to spill. 

“Miss. Wadsworth, is everything okay?” Cautiously I stand just behind her, ready to leave her if she asks to be alone; but she lets out a joyless laugh and spins to look at me. 

“Perfect, Mr. Cresswell. I am a woman in this absurd society so I must not dare think about anything remotely masculine. I must not be able to pick who I love but have my father arrange it without informing me.” The words she spits at me bite worse than the cold seeping into my bones. 

“Audrey Ro-”

“Blackburn. He chose Blackburn. He was never nice to me to be my friend, but because of him and my fathers scheming. If he hadn't been he would not have been this nice to me. I know I am not exactly the nicest person and that my interests disgust society but it was nice to have a friend.” She whispers the last part as though it pains her too. It pains me to hear it.

“Am I not your friend Audrey Rose?” The attempt at a joke is abysmal and I curse in my head at how bad I am at interacting with people, especially those I love.

“You are but you're different, you, I don't need to try with you Thomas. I have to try with everyone but you.”  I dare a step towards her and her eyes meet mine. We needn't say a thing for us to understand each other. 

“Wadsworth, I find it easy with you too. More than I even understand. This world is cruel and I wish more than anything to make it better for you, for it to be better in general. I- my father long ago gave up trying to marry me off, deeming me worthless and unable to love, and I still cannot figure out which is worse.” My voice becomes hoarse as I take her gloved hand in mine. “You are worth more to society than they realise, so please keep fighting for your freedom. I will forever remain your friend if that is what you wish to happen, to help you figure this world out.” I'll be more than your friend if you wish that too. I fail to add. Her hand tightens on mine and I fail to breathe properly. 

“Thomas,” she breathes out, it caresses me slightly, her voice smooth and sure, “you are not unlovable, your father is a fool. An utter fool. I want you by my side always, I fear I couldn't do this without you.” Closer she comes, impossible so, and I fear I may have to think about anything menial so I do not kiss her and inevitably ruin this. “What if, what if it was more than friends though?” Her question is hesitant, and my heart stops dead. We may have kissed, may have flirted, but a part of me never considered she reciprocated my feelings. “I- I’m sorry.” She stammers, taking a step back, misjudging my silent shock. I wince and keep her hand in mine. Her own shock widens on her face and I speak before she can beat me to it. 

“Wadsworth I'd like that too.”

There is a second of silence as it sinks in. “You would?” 

“More than anything. I care deeply about you. I shall court you like a proper gentleman if that is what you wish” I return to how we stood seconds ago as she snorts at my statement. 

“You are anything but a gentleman Cresswell.” The smile returns on her face as we both laugh. “It may be my favourite thing about you.” I flash her a devilish smile. 

“I am fully aware, love, that you love the scandalousness of my words. Would you like to go back inside or return home, I am sure I can get us a carriage to share.”

“Us? Thomas you do not live with me.”

“Yet.” I add. She rolls her eyes but does not disagree. “It would be ungentlemanly to let you return home alone; and purly scandalous to be in close quarters with you.” I wink as she retreats from me to where the carriages are. 

“Very well, you may escort me home. From a distance.” She adds with narrowed eyes and I laugh at her implications but follow her nonetheless. I follow her into what seems like a new life, new hopes, ones I never thought possible. Her dress swishes around her, sweeping around her ankles at her light steps. The green gems twinkle against the lamplights, her hair cascading down her back, covering the slight cut of the dress, hiding her skin. Devastating. Utterly captivating. Her footsteps stop as she realizes I have not moved. She turns to face me, brows furrowed. I blink and brush away my thoughts to follow her. 

“Are you alright?” She asks, falling into step with me. 

“Yes of course, I get to leave with the most dazzling woman at the party.” 

We link arms, pay for a carriage and start to head towards Audrey Roses’ house. We sit across from each other, but the carriage is small, and I happen to have quite long legs that are deliberately stretched out to brush against hers. I catch her trying not to stare at me so I nudge her and slowly she looks at me. “I am still watching for that kiss, Wadsworth.”

She blinks and I raise my eyebrows at her new forming blush. She had not listened to what I said at all. “Wadsworth?” I ask and she hums a response shaking her head slightly. 

“Cresswell?”

“My kiss? I am still waiting for it.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion then her eyes widened as she processed the words. I lean forward, even as doubt pricks at my mind that she doesn't want to kiss me and will throw me out of the carriage if I move any closer to her. But she doesn't allow those thoughts to take over me completely as she leans in too and her lips meet mine. Warmth fills me, as we press closer together, my hand holds her knee and tightens as she deepens the kiss slightly. The kiss is gentle, soft and somehow better than the first one. The one before had been rushed, a kiss to convey how much we were thankful neither one of us was hurt. This kiss held promise, one I fully intended to keep. I hold my best friend closely for a second longer before I pull back, I search for any doubt in her eyes but find none. I only find adoration in her bright green eyes, her flushed cheeks and slightly bruised mouth. No regret. No hesitancy. So I press a small kiss on her lips and lean back so we can regain our composure before we leave the carriage. 

“I should save you from boring events more often if it means kissing you like that.” Her answering smile leads me to believe that she'd like that too. 

(i love writing dramatic Thomas)

i am working on the asks sent, i have plans and ideas for them so watch on in the next few weeks for them. i also have a feysand idea that i want to do

tages:  @fangirling-again (thank you for editing)  @city-of-fae  @the-hoofflepooff @padfoot-sirius-black @goatahoan @kittycat2187 @loveyatopluto @goddess-of-writing @yikesitsmaddie @lovecakeandmore @boredbookwormgirl

[mediocrity-at-best]

Monsters

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Prompt: monsters

Warnings: Deceit, Remus, vomit

Pairing: Romantic Dukeceit -> Anxceitmus

Words: 1,892

@sanderssidescelebrations sorry I just couldn’t think of a good title for this one. In other news, I may eventually write more off this prompt as a kind of backstory because I have a lot of ideas now. ANYWHO, here ya go!

“Are you okay, Virgil?” said Patton’s gentle voice. Virgil jumped, then groaned, then took a giant swig of his mostly espresso coffee. He gave Patton’s general direction a despondent thumbs up and carefully put his head back on the table. Patton rubbed his back soothingly, and Virgil could imagine the cooing noises he would make.

“Is he hung over?” came Roman’s deep rumble of a voice. He threw himself down at the table with them, and Virgil could feel all the way down his spine as Roman’s chair and Remus’s were pulled back from the table with a screech. He groaned again and put his arms over his head as though that would block out the noise anymore than his boxy, noise-canceling headphones already were.

“He’s not feeling well?” Patton suggested. “I’m not really sure. He’s only communicating with grunts and groans.” Patton continued rubbing Virgil’s back. Virgil wished he was hung over like Princey thought. At least then there would be an end to this eternal torment. As it was, Virgil kind of wanted to gouge out his eyes and his eardrums. That could solve the problem of the massive migraine that was currently trying to kill him. But hey, the screams of hundreds of unrested souls could do that to a person.

“Well, I don’t know why else he’d be wearing sunglasses inside and with giant headphones on if he’s not hung over,” Roman said. Virgil wished he was hung over. If he was hung over, it would stop eventually.

“Migraine,” Virgil grumbled, face smashing into the table. He could feel the rumble of sympathy coming from Patton as he said something Virgil didn’t quite catch. He sat up slightly and drained the rest of his drink. He shoved the empty cup toward Remus. “More?”

“Should you really be drinking caffeine, though, since it makes your anxiety worse?” Roman asked, clapping a hand over Remus’s mouth to stop whatever was about to come spewing out. “Wouldn’t that just, I don’t know, make your headache worse, too?”

“What about caffeine?” asked Logan, taking the seat on Virgil’s other side. Roman repeated himself and Virgil tried his best not to puke from how the world was spinning around him even with his eyes shut and hidden behind dark sunglasses he’d gotten (read: stolen) from his roommate.

“Actually,” Logan said, voice cutting through Virgil’s headphones with a precision that made Virgil wince, “caffeine is a key ingredient in many migraine medications. It is clinically proven to help. And while the unfortunate, unintended side effect of heightened anxiety does occur with Virgil, it’s fair that he get to choose whether or not that’s worth it.”

“More,” Virgil grumbled again. Remus jumped up from the table and disappeared from Virgil’s limited hearing. More talking commenced around the table, and Virgil began singing a song in his head so that he could block out any wayward stimulation that decided to provoke his already pounding head.

Another chair was pulled out from the table, with a considerable amount of grace that all the other chairs had lacked, and that is how Virgil knew that Dee was there, and also that all of his friends had managed to find him slumped in a cafe, halfway between purgatory and hell. As was the life of a clairvoyant with shit luck. Virgil preferred to take his suffering alone with a side of lonely, thank you very much.

When Remus dropped the drink down in front of Virgil, he almost cried with relief and immediately began chugging it. Maybe, if life were so kind, Virgil could subsist on a diet of solely caffeine and noodles. It hadn’t worked yet, but there was still time to try.

“Bad day?” That was Dee’s voice, smooth and barely loud enough that Virgil could hear it. He winced anyway and nodded as he carefully dropped his head back onto the table. Nothing more was said that Virgil heard, and slowly but surely, the screams died down, too. It was almost peaceful and with his eyes shut to block out any unsavory spirits he may see he could imagine he was somewhere that wasn’t crowded with spirits.

Until a loud shriek of ”Help me, Virgil!” sound next to his ear and Virgil jumped so violently that his headphones flew off. Virgil winced again as the sound of every spirit in a hundred yard radius began assaulting his eardrums. The movement was so sudden that is sent the world tilt-a-whirling again and Virgil knew without a doubt that something regrettable was going to happen.

“Virgil, are you-”

“I’m going to be sick,” he gasped and staggered from the table. He slammed the bathroom door opened and dropped to his knees in front of the first toilet. Everything he’d eaten in the last day was coming up, and there was a hand on his back which could have been anyone and Virgil couldn’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed.

When he was done, the person behind him leaned forward to peer into the toilet and said, “Do you not chew your spaghetti? I could chew it for you and feed you like a bird.” Virgil let out a hiccup of a laugh, feeling the tiniest bit better. There was only one person he knew who would say something like that.

“Shut up,” Virgil groaned. He could barely hear anything over the dead. Reality felt kind of fuzzy which was probably not what it was supposed to be doing, but who was Virgil to argue with the universe? Certainly not the person the universe had fucked over with stupid psychic-seeing-the-dead powers from the day he was born.

Oh, wait, he actually was.

“Are you okay?” Remus asked. Virgil spit up the rest of what was in his stomach. “I think that’s a no. What’s wrong, Stormcloud?”

“It’s too loud,” Virgil said without thinking about it. Then he tensed up and puked again. Now Remus would think he was crazy because it probably didn’t sound loud in an empty bathroom to him.

“What do you mean?” Remus asked, wrapping an arm around Virgil. He might be done puking, he wasn’t sure, but he could tell that Remus was worried about him now because he wasn’t saying anything repulsive.

And if he’d made Remus worried, well, he sort of owed him the truth. He knew Remus wouldn’t care anyway. He was a werewolf. There was no room to judge.

“Mm-hm,” Virgil hummed. “All the dead people are screaming and I’m going to lose my mind if it doesn’t stop because it’s so fucking loud and-” Virgil stopped abruputly as Remus pulled Virgil toward him. He put Virgil’s head on his chest right above his heart and pressed his hand over top Virgil’s other ear. Suddenly, the only sound in Virgil’s head was the abnormally slow ba-boom, ba-boom of Remus’s heart. It was so loud and it was all Virgil could focus on. There was no screaming, no threats, no begging; just the echo of Remus being alive.

Virgil went limp against him and squeezed his eyes shut. It was the most serene he had felt in his whole life.

“Why, Virgil! You see dead people! Why didn’t you tell me? We could have such a fun time,” rumbled through Remus’s chest. Virgil didn’t say anything. It was quiet for once, he was going to enjoy this until his migraine left him the fuck alone. “Did you know I was a werewolf?” Remus asked. That did, unfortunately, require an answer.

Virgil sat back. “Yeah. So’s Ro, and Dee’s a naga and Pat’s a selkie and Lo’s a fae and my roommate is a vampire who thinks he’s a whole lot better as keeping secrets than he actually is. Sorry I didn’t say anything.” With the screaming back and the nasty visions floating around him and the taste of puke in his mouth, Virgil’s words came out kind of stilted and uneven. It didn’t seem to matter to Remus, who beamed.

“Oh, Virgil, I am happy as a maggot in shit to hear that,” Remus exclaimed. “The only reason Dee and I haven’t asked you out yet was because we didn’t want you to think you were getting into a relationship with humans when we aren’t. Ruined the surprise, I think, but what can you do.”

“Remus,” Virgil said slowly. “Did you just ask me out on the bathroom floor right after I puked in the toilet?”

“I like a guy who can get a little nasty,” Remus said and shimmied his shoulders. Virgil groaned, partly because Remus was ridiculous and partly because he might puke again. “So, what do ya say, Stormcloud?”

“Yes, but not right now because there’s still puke in my mouth,” Virgil said.

“Let’s go get that handled,” Remus suggested, “and then you can come back to our apartment and we can keep all those awful noises away. And then when we wake up tomorrow, Dee can ask you out!” He was grinning manically, and Virgil couldn’t help but laugh. It sounded like a pretty solid plan. Remus helped Virgil stand up and brought him over to the sinks to rinse his mouth out. Virgil took a couple sips of water, but decided that was enough or else he’d be spitting that back up too.

When Remus tried to lead him toward the door, Virgil’s legs gave out from under him. Remus, without hesitating for even a second, scooped Virgil up like a baby. He adjusted them until Virgil’s head was on his chest and Virgil had relaxed slightly.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired.” Virgil shut his eyes again as Remus carried him out of the bathroom. There was a muffled conversation at the table as somebody put his headphones and sunglasses back on for him, and he faintly heard Remus say, “Virgie’s not a normie either!” followed by exclamations and he did really want to hear what everybody thought, but the next thing he knew, he was being picked up out of a car and carried into an apartment.

“Hey, Virgil,” Dee said, plucking his headphones off for a second. Virgil winced, but it was quieter here, less to see and hear, so he hummed a hello. “Remus said you agreed to come over and I really didn’t want to have to take the headphones off to ask in the middle of the restaurant. Do you need anything? Food? Or water? Sleep?”

“Lights off?” Virgil whispered. “I don’t really sleep much like this. But I like listening to Remus’s heart. It makes all the other noises...stop.” Dee smiled in the softest way Virgil had ever seen, and then went to pull all their curtains closed. Remus sat down on the couch, still cradling Virgil, and situated them so that Virgil’s head was directly over his heart. The slow, steady ba-boom, ba-boom was taking up most of Virgil’s senses again.

“Do you need anything else?” Dee asked quietly. Virgil shook his head, and Dee sat down next to them. There was a quiet rumble as Remus said something Virgil didn’t catch, and then a softer one as Dee responded. Virgil took a deep breath and just focused on Remus’s heartbeat. It let the pain fade to background noise much better than anything else did, and Virgil finally fell asleep to the quiet ba-boom, ba-boom of Remus’s heart.

[the-sunshine-dims]

Green

title: green 

words: 2202

ao3 link

pairings: dukeceit (deceit and Remus,)

*warnings*; strong language, sympathetic dark sides , thoughts of abandonment, crying,  mentions of food, hurt/comfort, mentions of burns,

summary: Remus gets accepted my the light sides, deceit is happy for him but sad because he thinks Remus will abandon him. but then Remus comforts him

characters: deceit, Remus, Patton, Virgil, Logan, roman

____________________

Remus somehow unknowingly got accepted to the light sides 

he spends so much time there deceit gives up thinking he’ll see his friend  anymore, at least not as a friend,

deceit gets used to the dinners that Remus isn’t there, well at least he tries, but he never gets used to the silence, that damned emptiness, deceit hated being alone, he never had told anyone but he hates being alone, absolutely hates it!

Remus hadn’t noticed how much time he spends there,

  by the time he goes to hang out with deceit he goes around the corner expecting to see the normal: deceits room with the classic “go away” door matt.

 but now there’s a small sign on the door “please do not come in” scribbled on it lightly

and then he notices that the door is not locked, which is unusual, normally deceit keeps his door locked so Remus would stop running in with a bunch of garbage in hand, 

so Remus of course starts getting worried and did the Remus way of things; opening the door without knocking 

he sees deceit curled up in a little ball next to his bed in his pajamas (w-was he crying?) 

“hey dee-dee! sorry I stopped intruding-”

deceit immediately flinched and tried wiping the endless tears from coming down  when Remus was noticed

“hey dee-dee are you ok?” Remus said genuinely concerned about dee

“ye-yeah i’m fine’ deceit said trying to cover up his tears (and failing)

“… are you sure?” Remus walked closer to the crying deceitful side 

“y-yeah-” deceit couldn’t say another word or he would completely break down (more then he already has)

“dee… I can tell when something wrong! that’s a little bit of my job after all!” 

deceit flinched at that, deciding it was better not to respond

“dee… can I hug you?” 

deceit was a little surprised that Remus had asked he couldn’t tell if it was good or bad all he knew was that it was all influenced by the light sides… it didn’t matter what his brain was saying he nodded slowly

Remus didn’t hesitate for a second to wrap his arms around deceit in a oddly soft embrace, Remus grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around them for extra comfort

“hey dee-dee… you don’t have to but can you tell me why you were crying? the last time you cried was when Virgil left… again you don’t have to tell me!” Remus said hesitantly trying to connect the dots (and somewhat failing)

deceit hesitantly muttered something  before speaking a little louder for Remus to actually hear “I- I was- I thought you were ganna le-leave-’” deceit got out before letting out a sob

 Remus was startled by that (Remus startled?? yes.) Remus held the crying snakey side closer

“shh its ok… shhh i wont leave..i would never leave you like Virgil did… its ok shh” Remus shushed comfortingly as he began crying a little too, he wasn’t expecting any of this.. honestly he just wanted to hold deceit protectively forever

after about a half hour deceit fell asleep quietly in a comforting embrace (#letthesnakesleep)

“aww he fell asleep! its better then crying more… I don’t want him to cry…” Remus said tilting his head on deceit’s head gently

he was happy deceit had gotten sleep and Remus just noticed that deceit had eye bags,

 Remus realized he hadn’t seen deceit in a while… he was ganna change that, if he had gotten excepted by the “light” sides then he would bring deceit with him! deceit deserves to be listened to, if they would listen to Remus they would listen to deceit.

after about another half hour Remus had also fallen asleep —— Patton had decided it was a good idea to allow Remus to be a more active member of the famILY 

the others hadn’t really opposed to it but they could tell Virgil wasn’t the most thrilled, and roman got fed up with Remus easily (brothers ya know)

but Virgil knew Remus didn’t really wanna actually hurt anyone and roman just didn’t really care as long as Remus didn’t touch his sword 

so Patton invited Remus for dinner, again, and again, and again, until Remus kind of came on instinct ______ Patton didn’t know why but he felt on edge, Patton knew he was missing something but he couldn’t tell what it was, Patton knew he was missing something! it made Patton a little mad he couldn’t figure out what he was missing

then around dinner Remus doesn’t show up, and that’s all it took to worry Patton.

Remus was gone, they looked everywhere even his (very messy) room, they still couldn’t find him

it wasn’t until Virgil decided that it would be a good idea to check deceits room or at least ask him if he had seen Remus recently or knew where he is

when Virgil knocked and didn’t get an answer Virgil got more worried he already was, Virgil turned the door nob seeing if it was locked it wasn’t, so Virgil finally hesitantly opened the door

he saw the two wrapped around each other absorbing each others warmth

“hey pat Remus is fine!” Virgil yelled after closing the door

“hmm! did you find him!? did deceit know where he was?” Patton asked quickly walking over to Virgil

“well deceit definitely knows where he is, but deceit didn’t tell me…  cuddle puddle.”

Patton made a small happy lil gasp “aww!! so we should leave them be! we can talk or hang out with Remus later! maybe we can hang out with deceit too,”

Virgil chuckled “ok pat lets go tell the others- Roman. not to destroy the mindscape looking for him”

——-

Remus woke up quietly a couple hours before deceit but didn’t want to wake him up or leave him alone so he just stayed there quietly cuddling closer letting deceit absorb his warmth

when deceit woke up he noticed the still lingering Remus around him 

“m’  sorry…” deceit muttered close to tears again, unknowing Remus was actually awake, he felt awful, ‘what if he had just ruined Remus’s chance at finally being listened to?’ his mind said

Remus wrapped his arms tighter around deceit 

Remus tilted deceits head to face him, “you don’t need to apologize… I mean I don’t apologize even when I do something wrong most of the time and you didn’t even do anything wrong!’ Remus laughed softly, trying

to make sure deceit knew  everything is ok

Remus wondered how long deceit had been crying before Remus came in, ‘how long has he thought I was ganna leave him completely? how long has he thought he would be completely alone?’ Remus thought

“thanks…… can- can we have more blankets? I want comfy!” deceit smiled wetly

Remus laughed “sure, but lets go to the kitchen first so you can eat,”

“ok” deceit smiled

Remus picked up deceit surprisingly deceit didn’t squirm or protest “now lets go!” Remus smiled as deceit quickly grabbed the blanket from the ground and readjusted himself a bit so he wouldn’t be cold,

Remus wandered into the kitchen deceit In his arms

he sat deceit on the couch 

“hey! I can help make the food! I-” deceit said 

“nope, you should be resting you have bags under your eyes, and since I don’t know the last time you’ve slept~ just sit tight, okay?” 

deceit decided not to argue, he let out a sigh “fine, but~ later we have to make cupcakes,”

Remus let out a loud a laugh “deal, it also says a lot that you’re to tired to lie,” Remus ruffled deceits hair causing deceit to blep 

“… fair… also no hair squish!” deceit swatted at Remus’s hands,

Remus laughed “ok sir blep-noodle! now i’m ganna go make pancakes,” and with that he walked into the kitchen.

deceit grabbed the remote, turning on a show, just so he had something to pay attention to, to pass he time —————- after about an hour or so, (deceit wasn’t paying attention to the time) Remus came back with two plates of pancakes,

“dee-dee! I got the food! and I only got burnt twice!” Remus beamed at deceit before handing deceit the plate

deceit gave a airy chuckle “thank you, and i’m proud your getting better at cooking but I think we should get that number of burns down to zero.”

Remus laughed “ok. now eat you sleep deprived snake, and then after we eat we can watch movies! though tomorrow we have to find a solution the- uhhh- thing? because we cant have you being sad or lonely!”

Remus smiled dee

deceit sighed “okay” then they both began eating

—————–

 a while later (no one was keeping track of the time) they turned on a couple movies and cuddled until deceit fell asleep, using Remus as a pillow,

 —————–

 when they woke up they ate and watched a couple more movies.

 Remus paused the movie and looked over at the side latched onto Remus’s arm “hey dee-dee should we go to the light sides and try to solve the problem soon?”

 deceit looked at Remus and gave a contemplative look, “hmm I guess so, do you mean right now or-? because if its right now I have to change out of my pajamas”

 Remus laughed “nah, not right now, we’ll go chat with them when ever you feel like you can, talking can be hard when your tired.” 

deceit nodded “okay, well i’m not as tired as I was a couple days ago so I think I’ll be fine,” deceit smiled at Remus and Remus smiled back

“ok so are you fine with going now?”

“sure but-”

Remus stood up and swooped down to pick up dee

“lets go!”

deceit laughed “Remus- pfft- no we have to change!” deceit giggled

 “if they say anything bad about your snake pj’s then I’ll fight them!” Remus laughed maniacally causing deceit to burst into a fit of giggles

Remus beamed at the giggling deceit, he began running to the light sides area 

“Remus- no-”

“Remus yes, owo”

deceit laughed again

“Remus-“ deceit laughed again  "actually, this probably isn’t the weirdest thing they’ve seen, they have Virgil, Virgil goes to bed at 4 am and if you got to the kitchen at 3 you see him sitting on the fridge.”

this caused Remus to laugh  “yep!” 

Remus burst into the light side living room with deceit in his arms

“what up bitches?!” Remus yelled with a laugh

Patton yelped “oh- hi Remus! hi deceit!” Patton said deciding not to mention the fact about them being in their pj’s

roman on the other hand- “why are you in your pajamas? did Remus wake you up and bring you here?”

deceit stared at Remus “that wasn’t anything bad about the pj’s, no fighting.”

Remus laughed “fine~”

Patton, Virgil, and roman looked at each other confused

“have you two eaten?” Logan asked

“oh don’t worry Logan! I made sure he ate!” Remus said happily

“good, deceit i’m guessing the reason you’re in your pajamas is because of Remus?” Logan continued

deceit giggled “no, he didn’t pick me up off the couch and run me over here”

“oh don’t act like you don’t like being carried” Remus chuckled

deceit hissed and Remus booped his snoot causing deceit to blep again 

“noo! I am powerful fear me! I am an agent of chaos!” deceit squeaked 

the two abrupted into fits of giggles 

Patton beamed a smile at the two giggly bois

deceit remembered people were there. his face turned bright red and he hid his face in Remus’s shirt with the logic of ‘if I cant see them they cant see me’

and deceit stayed there for about a half hour while Remus talked to the other sides, and deceit just absorbed Remus’s warmth, ignoring the outside worlds existence 

and then deceit heard a muffled Remus asking “if I can join the light sides then can he? I don’t want him to be alone,” deceit tensed

“I mean, you’ve talked about him, and pretty much confirmed that he doesn’t wish Thomas harm, plus he doesn’t deserve to be abandoned. so yeah he can be a light side,” said a more serious sounding Patton 

Remus smiled

deceit readjusted himself “hey Remus can you set me down? its getting uncomfortable, plus I wanna go get a hoodie, its cold.” deceit whispered to Remus

Remus nodded and set him down to the confusion of the others, deceit walked off

“is he coming back or-?” Roman asked

Remus shrugged “depends if he finds a hoodie or he finds a warm place to huddle in,” 

“does he usually wander off to find warmth?” Logan asked

“eh sometimes, though when  its winter I go with him! he’s a cold danger noodle!” Remus laughed 

they continued to talk for a while before Remus left

————–

“i’m pretty sure we’ll need more blankets,” roman laughed “first because I want to make pillow forts and second because cold snake,” 

Patton smiled “agreed” 

“am I the only one who has the feeling that we’ll randomly find deceit in a pile of blankets in the middle of the floor?” Logan asked

Virgil laughed at that “oh that’s definitely ganna happen.”

————–

end

[inkribbon796]

I’m Sorry that it Took so Long for me to Change

Summary: Logan gives Virgil some calming words. Set after: Are There Healthy Distractions.

I wrote this immediately after the new Bloopers came out, I couldn’t help myself. This is also make-up for missing last week’s upload.

The title comes from Relient K’s “Who I am Hates Who I’ve Been”, cause that’s got all kinds of Virgil vibes.

Virgil was lying on the counter. Roman and Patton were off in the Imagination, doing whatever adventures they wanted while Virgil stewed. He was demolishing a bag of Lays, knowing that in about a half-hour he was going to regret it but that was a problem for future Virgil to solve.

In the moment, his thinly veiled apology to Thomas had been playing on repeat. Yeah, Thomas had said they were still friends, but what if he meant that only about Rico? Virgil had been a bad guy, a villain. He’d ruined countless parties and social engagements, kept Thomas from taking opportunities that could have made him rich and famous. It could have been the thing to make Deceit, Roman, and Remus happy.

A train of thought that was made worse when he remembered all his frantic thinking was probably making Thomas anxious when he needed to do other stuff far more important.

“Virgil?” Logan called out.

“Shit,” Virgil hissed under his breath, “what?”

“You seem distressed,” Logan commented, adjusting his glasses. “Perhaps I could be of some assistance?”

Virgil propped himself up on one forearm and craned his neck back to look at Logan. “Yeah, you can rewind time to when Thomas was fourteen and keep him from getting anxiety in the first place.”

“Impossible and inadvisable,” Logan adjusted his glasses. “As time travel has not been discovered yet and you would not be nearly the Side you are now.”

“Yeah, that’s the point,” Virgil grumbled.

“Is this still about the party?” Logan asked. “I thought we had come to an understanding about it.”

“Yeah that understanding is that I ruined a perfectly good night,” Virgil scoffed. “Not the first time.”

“I don’t understand,” Logan commented, coming to stand on the other side of the counter. Virgil was quietly grateful for it so he didn’t have to keep cranking his neck. “Thomas had fun rewriting Frozen.”

“Yeah, but he could’ve had fun at the party too if I didn’t take over, I am pretty sure everyone around us could hear us shouting at each other,” Virgil commented.

“Yes, undoubtedly someone did,” Logan agreed.

Virgil groaned loudly, starting to pull his hoodie down.

“But if you had not reacted, I am more than certain Roman or Patton would have said something,” Logan reported.

“Oh yeah,” Virgil rolled his eyes, his words partially muffled by his hood as he pulled it closed. “Cause Patt’s a real wordsmith.”

“While he may not be as confrontational as you or I,” Logan reminded, “when pressed he is more than capable of arguing his point and winning.”

Virgil just made a frustrated groan. Logan for awhile just watched him, clearly trying to think of something. Finally the silence got to. Virgil first. “He hates me.”

“Who?” Logan asked.

“Thomas,” Virgil groaned. “I ruin everything.”

“Did Thomas tell you that?” Logan asked calmly.

Virgil didn’t answer, pulling on the strings even tighter.

Logan took the long minute-long silence as his answer. “Perhaps it would be best to ask Thomas directly instead of deciding on a conclusion.”

Virgil went quiet again. Logan leaned on the counter, “Virgil, please, could you explain how you reached the conclusion that Thomas hates you?”

Angrily, the anxious Side pulled open his hood to directly glare at Logan. “Geez Lo, you what that chronologically or in order of how bad it was?”

“I don’t follow,” Logan looked confused. “Thomas has accepted you as a vital part of his personality, he has on numerous occasions listened to your advice.”

“Only cause I scream louder than you,” Virgil countered. “I’ve always done that.”

“Sometimes your “screaming” as you inadequately put it, has saved his life. You ensure he checks the apartment is locked before leaving for the store. That he checks the expiration date on the milk before he drinks it. That he regularly cleans out rotten food that could contaminate clean food. Thomas takes the time to listen to your urgings.”

“Yeah,” Virgil sat up, pent up from his racing mind and the fact that Logan was just as blind to what Virgil was as Patton had always been. “Then why do I keep him up at night when he desperately needs to sleep? Or keep him from talking to people when he goes to a party? Remus wouldn’t have hit him as hard as he did if I hadn’t kept him awake all night.”

“You were not alone in that,” Logan urged. “Patton was just as worried.”

“I made it worse!” Virgil argued. “I always make things worse. I can’t do anything but make it worse!”

“Why do you insist on shouldering the blame for every decision Thomas makes? We are a team, we help him evaluate his choices, but in the end Thomas is the one who has the final say.”

“No,” Virgil spat. “You three help him, I’m just the parasite leeching off you guys. I’m the bad guy.”

“You are not “the bad guy” you are one of us,” Logan reinforced. “Just because you were erroneously classified when you were discovered, doesn’t make you any more of an antagonist than the rest of us.”

“I’m a Dark Side, I can’t be anything other than the bad guy!” Virgil shouted, the room darkening.

Virgil flinched at how loud he had gotten, realizing that he was crying. His brain filling with static as Thomas’s anxiety pitched up.

Internally Virgil began to spiral, Thomas felt confused, his hindbrain trying to find the source of danger but couldn’t find it because it didn’t exist and Virgil was making it all up because—

“Virgil,” Logan interrupted.

The dark static cleared a bit as Virgil whimpered.

“When will you realize that you are not the odious ne’er-do-well you paint yourself to be?” Logan pleaded. “Thomas always knew, everyone did. Roman partially told him when Thomas began to accept you.”

“He did?” Virgil croaked out, his voice sore from crying.

“He did lump you in with the others,” Logan reminded. “By virtue of that, if you were in the company of Deceit and Remus, you had to be a “Dark Side” as Roman put it. Everyone knew of your origin, you were not exactly secretive.”

“Oh,” Virgil commented lamely.

“He does not hate you,” Logan tried to explain. “If you still do not believe me you could always ask Thomas himself. He is more than willing to listen to you when you have an issue to bring up. Even if he doesn’t heed all your advice he listens. Which is more than Deceit or Remus can say.”

Virgil looked down at his hands, “Why didn’t he say something?”

“Probably for the same reason he has never forced one of our preferred names out of us,” Logan answered. “He waits for us to come to him. A bit of a passive choice on his end but I know you and Deceit value your privacy.”

Virgil looked down at his hands, his mind zeroing in on the dirt, the way his nails looked uneven, and the hangnails around it. He was already starting to bring his hands up to his mouth when Logan was speaking again.

“Perhaps we should watch a movie, Thomas is not too busy right now,” Logan suggested.

“Yeah, cause that really worked last time,” Virgil grumbled while starting to bite around one of his nails.

“I believe there is a possibility I could be coerced into watching Gravity Falls again, specific episodes are very charming and I do know that you like all the cryptids in that show.”

Virgil’s mood perked up a little, “Grunkle Stan is pretty cool.”

Logan offered his hand and Virgil jumped down from the counter, walking over with Logan to the couch as Thomas was already settling in to have Gravity Falls in the background of whatever he was working on. Virgil’s mood was improving little by little.

[yezzbub]

Idk what this is supposed to be, but I guess this is close to my own character analysis, review and reaction to Between Two Worlds! This is so late but I believe that it's better late than never😂 I'll also try to be as objective as possible (but I think that's gonna be hard especially when I talk about Philip/Phillip😂)

Again this is only about what I think and how I interpreted the series and the characters, no hate lol AND this is really long I swear by the stars :>

A. Title

Okay, so the title 'Between Two Worlds' initially made me think that it's gonna be about two people living in two different worlds and upon watching, I could say I'm partially right😂 so I like how it's suppose to symbolise the lives of two different families living in two different worlds. And when I say worlds it's not literally Earth and Mars, what I meant is like worlds as in how they live their lives.

So the Walfords are in the upper-class of society, they are rich, powerful, famous and feared especially because of their patriarch, Phillip. Their lives include deceiting, scaring, and messing with the lives of other people for their gain and pleasure🥺🥺🥺 in short, this fam is really problematic and chaotic😅

On the other hand, the Greys live a simple life in a simple house in a simple village. They have a loving family, yes, they had problems but it's normal for a family to have some problems.

B. Music

I really really love the music. That piano (I think it's piano) thing that is playing in the opening of every episode gives me the chills, the goosebumps. It makes me feel so many emotions like excitement, fear, and thrill,like it leaves me on the edge of my seat😂😭😂

C. Settings/Location

Deym, the location fits the story. I noticed that the main locations are their homes, it's where they mostly spend their scenes so I'm gonna focus on that. That high-rise apartment where the Walfords live screams privilege, fame, power and wealth. They are indeed powerful, they are at the top of the food-chain lol and they live at the top part of that apartment, a symbolism of their place in society _which is at the top. _I'm pretty sure their place makes them act like how they act all through out the series🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️.

On the other hand, the Greys' residence is located in a village(?) or subdivision of some sorts which I think is a simple place and a simple house symbolising their simple life that is away from the drama, away from the spotlight. Simple life gives simple problems I suppose😂😭😂😭😂

D. Families: an overview lolzz (Walfords, Greys, Konigs)

So like I've mentioned, the first two families seem to be the exact opposite of one another. Again, for me, the Walfords are so chaotic and so problematic🥺 the actions they did to one another just don't sit right with me, I think it's so twisted. Like it makes me realize how the grudges that people hold against others could make them act like that. It baffles me so much how they could even do that to each other?😳🥺 Are you so so hurt and so mad that you'll let your husband die in front of you and that you would just sit and chill on the stairs while he's suffering? And are you so hurt and so angry with your wife that you would imprison her in a cage so you could get back at her🥺 these people needs to chill and I think they need to let go of their grudges🥺😭🥺😭

For the Greys, well what can I say...they are pretty much normal, like they are how a family should be, what I could call the ideal. Again, they had problems but that problems were addressed and somehow solved🥺 I just like how the matriarch seems to be a perfect mother with a perfect relationship with her kids and the people around her but she's really like everyone else. She made mistakes and she wasn't even aware of the impact of her actions/words to her kids until her daughter mentioned it 🥺 but what I admire the most about her is that she's willing to take responsibility for her actions and to make amends(which I think the Walfords lack hehe)

Lastly, the Konigs. One word to summarize my thoughts about them: ugh. As much as how the Walfords have made a really bad impression on me, I think that these Konigs are worse than them lmao😂😭😂 this fam consists of the dad who is an unfaithful son of a gun who screwed the Walford matriarch and his hoho own daughter. The mom has some mental illness I'm not really sure about the specific illness which made her go to rehabs and kindaaaa drug dependent, and lastly, the daughter, she is a sly and a bad bitch with bad motives connected to bad people. I feel bad for the Konig youngling tho🥺 she's a bitch but I think no one deserves to be treated like how she was treated by her own father...that's a real disgusting act🥺😭🥺 so yeah, ugh.

E. Characters

Imma focus on them 👆 bec why not

1. Phillip Walford 👀👀

My babe, He is the Walford patriarch, he is a rich bastard who heads the Walford empire or whatever, who also suffers from a heart condition that he eventually needed to undergo a heart transplant. He's vicious and cruel and he's an I don't give a shit about your feelings kind of bastard. A man who probably suffered a lot from the trauma he had from his childhood oh poor bub😭😭 I also have every reason to hate him but I don't because I feel bad for him and his face and emotions,, it just makes me wanna hug him lol😂😭😭

He's like "I'm actually a nice guy but don't fuck with me" kind of man. He's also nosy and he sticks his nose to other people's businesses (Bella's plastic surgery) but I think he hates it when other people stick their noses in his business😂😂I love his sassy remarks and his nonchalant attitude especially towards his wife. He has reasonsss, he does that to punish her for something she had done years years ago that was something hehe quite unforgivable but hoho I could feel it and I could see it...I could feel that he is a jealous man who is in dire need of love and affection. That maybe he's actually still craving for her love and affection...but too bad, years of hostility towards each other had slowly burnt away the love they actually have for each other🥺

I like how he felt so bothered after the heart transplant because he felt that he's changing, he's getting softer, and getting more humane which he doesn't like because he thinks that his enemies would exploit that weakness against him🙄 I like how the badness and viciousness is so engraved to his bones and soul that the mere softness he's suddenly showing to those who surrounds him scares him a lot like a lot...

I also think that he really wants to forgive his wife,,,,but maybe his stubborn pride is hindering him from completely forgiving her...I also think that the reason he went out of his way to find his donor is, make a foundation for Danny, and like he really wanted to meet the Greys is because he somehow sees his ideal family when looking at them,,,it's like his what if, and a _I wish _and I think that's sad🥺😭🥺😭

This baby would have his world torn apart if he knew what his wife schemed on him

2.Cate Walford

She's Phillip's wife. I feel sorry for her especially for the first few episodes because her husband does not show her affection and love,,,he doesn't give her his time,,, he's giving her a hard time,,,and when she thought another man is giving her what she craves for,,,,her husband drove this man to his death or so they all thought lolzz I also like how she is actually a caring person, friend, mom, and wife👀👀

I know she did something unforgivable, she watched her husband have a heart attack, BUT she was initially really worried, she panicked like "Oh no, my husband is having a heart attack. What do I do?" Then she remembered that Phillip drove someone to their own death so she went ".....maybe you deserve to die, monster, how does it feel like tasting your own medicine you gave to others??" I don't forgive her for that tho hehe but that gave me a glimpse to what kind of person she really is.

Also, she's a very lucky woman and I'm veryyyy jealous because she has Phillip, a business tycoon and very jelly husband and eventually Dr. Julian, a well-known cardiologist, as her number two👀👀 I like her tandem with Sandra and I just went 🥺😭 when she opened up to her, like a girl talk of some sorts, it must have been so hard for her to keep all her thoughts and her regrets only to herself for a very long time. She's also pretty clever in a sly way because she schemed a plan against her husband to bring him back. Like bring her old husband back, the loving and caring Phillip Walford👀👀 she's determined to have their love back🥺🥺 BUT I JUST KNOW HELL WOULD BREAK LOSE IF AND WHEN PHILLIP FINDS OUT HER SCHEME HOHO

3. Bart Walford

He's the Walford heir and he's handsome but not as handsome as Phillip lol👀👀👀 he's wise and at the same time dumb🤭🙄 Wise because it would probably take some skills and some brains to appease investors to invest in their company and he did that when Phillip wasn't around. Dumb because he fell in love with a bitch with bad motives and he can't see it!!! 😔😔He loves her so much, he's basically blind ugh🥺🥺🥺

But I do admire how he's so ready to face and fight the whole world for Georgia,,, he'll do everything for her,,,he tries so hard to understand everything about her,,,his world seems to revolve around her and I think that's sooo bad😔👀👀 I mean I don't think that you really should make a person your world because if that person betrays and leaves you, your whole world will crumble apart and you're basically fucked🥺😭

As a 'son' , well,,,,he's a pretty nice who helps his 'father' scheme something to bring down threats for their business🤭👀 I like how defiant and fearless he could get when he got fed up with Phillip😂😭😂😭 I also like his relationship with his mom, they're closer than I initially thought and that he even helped her against Phillip🤭👀 so I therefore conclude that badness is not really innate in a person lolol😂😭😂😭

4. Georgia Konig

Ohoho,,, one word to describe her: bitch🙄 she's so good at manipulating people around her to get and do what she wants. She appeals to the emotions of people around her, making them feel sorry for her. I hate her so much. On top of that, she killed her own father,,, I wouldn't really blame her, he's really disgusting...

She wants to get a part of the Walfords' riches so she paved her way in through Bart. I just hate her so much because she's taking advantage of his feelings towards her🙄 little baby doesn't deserve to be treated like that, little baby deserves to be loved for real

To be honest,,, I don't really think she really loves him. I'm pretty sure that she feels something towards Bart but it's not real love, maybe she does like him a lot but she doesn't really really love him. She's just sticking with Bart because of his inheritance because she wants to have some of it and since she knows he's really into her...well,she took advantage of him🙄😭

I like her dry remarks tho, maybe it's just me but she makes me snort and chuckle sometimes. I also like her voice cause I think it's beautiful and really seductive, and really suitable for her character. She plays crazy pretty well for me too👀👀

5. Sandra

Oh, one of my favorite characters! Deym, she is so precious and I love her so much! She is a nurse that worked for the Walfords for a few months. She is bubbly, nice, loving, caring, and fearless. She puts the arrogant and stubborn ass of his boss in place which I love the most! She's not afraid to talk back to Phillip lol😂😭😂😭 she even called him an over privileged white man with anger issues when he's too stubborn while she's caring for him,,, that line was gold😭✊

Behind her smiles and witty remarks, she's actually going through something very hard in her life. Her son got disabled after getting involved in a skateboarding accident, her husband left them because of guilt, and since then she's been taking care of him🥺 which makes the working for the Walfords situation a saving grace for them.

Together with Cate, they schemed something against Phillip. They made him think that he has Danny's heart. She doesn't really want to fool the old man but because she was promised a fortune,,, for her son,,, even if the means weren't good,,, she said yes. It just shows her big respect and big trust on Cate, but I think, however close they are,,, fooling people isn't just in her moral compass so she'd probably get guilty about it😔

6. Sophia Grey

First off,, I think she's a great mom. I like how she really exerted effort to make the right things even if it costs her a lot. However,,apparently she has a trait which makes her act like everything is about her when it's actually not BUT atleast she could swallow her pride and she would actually try to make things right, which I think, deserves an applause👏👏 I mean that's rare for a parent to admit they're wrong👀👀

She's a loving mom, wife, and friend. She's not perfect but she makes effort on making herself a better person which I think the other characters lack lmaoooo😂😭😂😭I like how her love for her children is so big, and she's pretty much a normal mom. She is supportive of her children's shenanigans and all she wants is to see her children happy🥺

If she found out that she got lied to, I think she'll lose her respect for the Walfords👀👀

7. Danny Grey

We only got to see so little about him but here's what I think: he's handsome lol,,, he's athletic of course, a loving son, a loving fiance possibly a real husband material, and a PASSIONATE man! I mean the love he has for his family, his fiance, and his sport is just so great🥺🥺

It's sad how we only got to see so lil about him since his death is the drive of the plot, so okay,,,

8. Bella Grey

Oh, babyyy🥺🥺🥺 she's Danny's sister who's a very veryyyy talented girl! She plays the piano, she's musically inclined, she's pretty, soft, precious, and lovely! I'm gonna fight anyone who says otherwise😤

She felt as if she's only a shadow of his probably popular brother which makes her feel invisible. She thinks she's plain and that she's just sooo thankful that she's talented or else she's just nothing🥺😭🥺😭 I think it's sad how she resorted to plastic surgery to make herself seen and noticed. It's sad how she thought that changing herself would make her seen which made her think that she is the problem but babyyy nooo!! 🥺😭🥺😭

I love her relationship with her mum! They're like bestfriends and it's so lovelyyy🥺💖I love how she has strong intuition noticing and feeling the Walford's patriarch's seemingly uncharacteristic approaches on them👀👀 so yeah, I love her🥺💖

9. Dr. Julian Lee

He's the hot cardiologist of Mr. Walford and Mrs. Walford's number 2 lol😂 he's a well-known doctor so he probably have the skillz and the brains no wonder Cate fell for him. So, he's pretty much a good guy despite having an affair with a married woman because in my eyes he seems to treat her better🥺🥺🥺

I like how he banters with Phillip and their exchange of spicy words are gold👌I see how hurt he was when Cate decided to break up with him because it seems to get better with her husband BUT HE LET HER GO OMG,,, maybe he truly loves her?? Because he just wanted her to be happy?? I really would have wanted to see more of him🥺😔

10. David Starke

He's the coach and he's a widower who fell in love with Sophia Grey. Hmmm,,, he's pretty hot too lmaooo... He's a giant! He's also kind of a low-key asshole,,,

He was pretty okay during the first few episodes, he's always there to give support to the Greys, maybe because he's really a nice guy or maybe it's because he loves Sophia and he sees her as his wife 👀👀 I just kinda hated him when he started being a dick to Bella's friend who was just joking! He said something like he doesn't like his humor and that that kind of humor is the last resort of being likeable if the person is not actually attractive and I was like whut bruh??? WhAt?🥴🥴

I'd love to see how his relationship with Sophia would continue especially that he was initially jealous of Phillip bec he was tooooo close to her (David doesn't know the reason why) and it was hinted in that godforsaken ending that they learned about the lie,, I would have wanted to see how he would react and how he would confront the Walford patriarch about it😔

11. Mikael

So he's the bearded buff diver guy. He was an ex military (?) and is now a mercenary. He's close to Georgia, I'm not just sure if it's just because of her money or something else. So he's pretty much a fucked up guy. He's clever, he's strong, he's hot, he's handsome, he's scary, and he's probably crazy too.

He does anything and everything, as long as you will pay him his price. He's also the type of guy who you should be afraid of getting on his bad side because he will make sure he would get back at you.

12. Bishop Welles

One of my most hated character, he's an enabler and I hate him😤 he's that calm old bishop who threw shade to Phillip Walford, a well-known business tycoon, during his friend's funeral. Like,,, he's saying that Phillip must have done something driving the death of his friend, Mr. Konig. Making Phillip withdrew all donations to that church lol

He also never believed Georgia's testimonies that she was being raped by her own father and even called her father to get her. He made her life worse.

F. Plot

To be honest, I liked the plot... I love how it started with having glimpses of how these families live their different lives away from each other. I like how the main motif of this series is revenge, greediness, and how family relationship differs,,, I really love how the plot is so new to me that it hooked me up into watching the whole thing making me look forward into it for every week. I remember doing the math so I could watch it live, having a mini heart attack when my Internet was being nuts lagging at the pivoting moments of the show, and squealing every time Philip goes to view lmaooo😂😭😂😭

I honestly like the twists and all, I really liked how the story went until that fucking ending.

8 eps in and I was like 😳 "gosh, there are so many happenings how would everything be resolved for the last two episodes??" and "there are more bombs to be dropped yet hcndkaodns." Then the writer went "haha, nonsense plot twists and cliff hangers go brr" and he basically ruined a good show I HATE IT SO MUCH. Maybe IF they're gonna renew the series and will have a season 2 where everything would be actually resolved like how a decent plot happens, then okay, I'll forgive you, Mr writer. But leaving us, the viewers, hanging like that after that wtf kind of ending is just too cruel and just too selfish 😔✊ I even recommended this show to my friends and they're pretty fine with it and like me, they think the plot is cool up until that stupid ending...

It was a real roller-coaster ride of emotions, I love how it made me feel. The constant 'oh my god, I love where this show is going' and 'this is so good' made me feel so happy except that ending...It was actually my stress-reliever although the plot is sooo stressful to the nth power lol

Will I recommend it to other people?? Well,,,, sureee why not?! I mean if I want them to know why I'm simping over a 60 year old big man, oh why not🤭🤭 For the story?? For revenge maybe? I want them to feel robbed off a good ending and I want them to hate the ending too as much as I hate it lolololll kidding aside, welp, yeah, I'd still recommend it to make them feel the roller coaster of emotions I also felt🤭👀👀

[becca-becky]

Accepting Duplicity, Part 2/2: Can Selfishness Be Good?

Relationships: Janus & Everyone, basically

Summary: A 'what if' scenario: what if Janus took Virgil's role as the first Dark Side to try and interact with the Light Sides? (just imagine every episode pre-AA that had Virgil in it and just imagine if Janus was there instead of Virgil)

Notes: Janus's title is Duplicity, but his nickname is Vill, short for Villain because he dresses like a disney villain (original, I know). This entire thing is just if SvS, Putting Others First, and Can Lying Be Good had a baby and it was AA Part 2

Words: 3633

Also on Ao3!

*+*+^+*+*

When Janus woke up today, he was not planning on encountering the others in his room. And no, he wasn't speaking backward this time.

"Excuse me," He said with a smooth voice before appearing in his usual capelet and hat, "What are you doing in my room?" He sneered.

The others just screamed at the sight of him. Figures.

"Vill? Oh my goodness, I am so happy to see you, that's weird," Thomas said excitedly.

Janus blinked before slowly saying, "All of you just didn't scream in unison upon seeing me,"

"S-sorry," Logan stuttered out, uncharacteristically nervous, "You do this thing where you kind of just- appear ,"

"Wait, wait, wait, what is going on with my hair? Oh, come on, I just washed it like- yesterday. How did it get like this?" Thomas whined as he took off his hoodie and tried to fix his nest of a head.

Roman brightened and threw a hairbrush at him. "Welcome back, Thomas!”

"Thanks, Roman," Thomas quickly tidied up his hair and threw it back. Roman let put an 'ow' as Thomas went back to the task at hand, "Vill, you don't understand-"

"-come on-" Roman muttered.

"-for some reason, I wasn't feeling your presence at all,"

"Yes, yes, I'm well aware," Janus said idly, "It's because I wanted to- test something, you could say. Although a more proper term for my disappearance would be 'ducking out',"

"Quack," Patton mumbled.

"What- ducking out?"

"Quack, quack,"

"That's a thing you can do?" Thomas asked Logan, who muttered back: "For this video, I guess,"

"I decided to try and remove myself from the equation for the time being, since all of you seemed so adamant that my presence wasn't welcome or necessary,"

"Well, I wouldn't-" Patton started to say before he could only mouth the movements of speech. The poor dear was telling a lie.

Janus shot a sympathetic look his way, "Don't act like I'm not telling the truth, Morality,"

Patton shut his mouth.

"Well, it's because it was kind of unnecessary for you to be there during Thomas's problem solving," Roman said, a grimace set on his face.

Janus snorted, "Oh, what, I'm not allowed to be here but you, Mr. Hopes, Dreams, and Aspirations himself, are?"

"We aren't the same-"

"Noooo, of course not, especially since we both encompass what Thomas's wants and needs in life. Definitely not,"

Roman frowned and began to open his mouth.

Logan interjected, anticipating another argument, "On behalf of my fellow sides, I'd like to... apologize for our negligence towards our treatment of you. I can't imagine it was pleasant,"

Janus sighed, "It comes with the job,"

"But, I truly don't think any of us anticipated how important you are, Duplicity," Logan said earnestly. Roman and Patton gave him a look but he just gave them one of his own, daring them to argue.

Roman sighed, and nodded reluctantly, "Without you, Thomas didn't want to do anything except for work and he couldn't even put on a show for the camera despite that! He just said whatever came into his head and he had a nonexistent filter for everything. It really made me feel bad because then it was like I was useless-" Roman slapped his hand on his mouth and chuckled nervously.

Logan paused before continuing for him, "Precisely, Vill, you encompass so much more than Thomas's selfishness and deceit. You exist to keep him safe,"

"I mean, self-preservation is basically the only reason I'm here," Janus mumbled, "But I'm glad you see my purpose, Logan,"

"B-but," Patton stumbled, "I mean, I get why he’s important, but he’s still not- like us..?" He tried to say in the most polite way possible.

Janus smiled at that, "And why should I, Patton?"

"Say what?"

"Why should I be like you?" Janus reiterated, "And how am I different than you or any other side?"

"O-oh, because lying isn't- it's not, uh, I mean-"

"Tell me, Patton,"

"Because lying isn't good," Patton spit out, his frustration and adamancy clear in his tone, before putting his hands on his mouth in shock, "I- I'm sorry, I don't understand what came over-"

Janus waved his gloved hand, pretending like his statement didn't hurt him, "Don't soften the truth, Patton, we both know it only makes things worse. And to answer your -to be frank- incorrect statement, I'll say this: how can you be so sure that lying isn't bad? And what makes you or any of the others ‘better’ than me?"

"Because you aren't being honest and the others aren’t- you know, bad?"

"And how is that a bad thing, and what makes the others good?"

"Because it's- it's not- it's not ethically right, first of all, and second, there’s nothing- ethically compromising about these two,"

"And how can you be so sure?"

"Well, um, look. How would you feel if someone lied to your face about something that they didn't have to lie about and you trusted that person?"

"I'd feel hurt," Janus said curtly, already understanding where this was heading.

"And that's because you trust them to tell you things that aren't lies because you trust them to not break your trust," Patton rattled off, moving his hands around aimlessly.

"Okay, those are way too many 'trust's in one sentence," Roman said, cradling his head in his palms like he was getting a headache.

Janus ignored him, "That's only one scenario, Patton. What if you had to tell the truth about a hamster's death to a child? Would you lie to them and simply say that 'your hamster ran away' or something more comforting? Or would you tell them the blunt truth? That their hamster is gone and won't ever come back to them? And you’re still not answering my question, Morality, what do the others have that I don’t that makes them ‘good’?"

"W-well-"

"Patton, just hear me out on this. What if not all actions have the same moral consequence in different situations as moral philosopher Jonathan Dancy says? I’m paraphrasing here- but he said it's truly impossible to quantify the ethical weight of moral principles since situations can be so different from each other for many different reasons. So, curiosity during a rather morbid experience and continuously probing the people who experienced it isn’t exactly ethically right in that specific situation. Or let’s say pride; you got a callback for an audition for a- um-"

“-an Alfred Hitchcoppalucas film-!”

“-yes, that, but your friend -who also auditioned- didn’t get the callback. Now, it’s fine to feel pride in your accomplishments but you don’t just shove it in their face, because that’s just needlessly cruel. It’s all in the matter of how far you go with it,”

"Yes, but that still leaves the fact that at least lying for selfish reasons isn't the most- morally decent thing to do-" Patton argued.

"That's you making your own judgment call. Surely you know when it's necessary, to tell the truth in a situation and when it isn't? That's the whole point of moral particularism. I'm just trying to say that lying isn't the most black and white thing to do. And even then, morals aren't black and white and shouldn't be perceived as such, since morality is more of a- spectrum of grays,"

Roman snorted, "Are there 50 shades-?" He was quickly shut up by Janus with a snap of his fingers.

"Those grays vary in shades of light and dark, but they're all the same color, and that's the mindset you should have as a figment of morality simply because life isn't simple. It gets more and more complicated as it goes on. People are never truly evil or good, it's only dramatization and opinions that shape people's perception of them. Sure, there are some people who are the darkest shades of gray imaginable and some who have shades that are so light they're white, but that suddenly doesn’t make them incapable of doing good or bad. And that's why I'm here,"

"To darken Thomas's shade of gray?" Patton muttered, confused, continuously shifting his eyes between Janus and Thomas.

"No," Janus quickly said, "No, definitely not. I'm here to-"

"-show that I have a capacity for deceit, among other things," Thomas finished for him.

Patton gasped, "Kiddo..."

"Patton, Vill isn't that bad. He really isn't, or at least, he really can't be. If he was, then I would've been better off without him a few hours ago,"

Patton looked at the floor, "But Thomas, he's still-"

"We're all capable of doing bad as well as good in life, Pat," Thomas said softly. "You know that, I know that, so why are we fighting it?"

"I just want you to be a good person," Patton whispered

"And I just want to keep him safe," Janus said. Patton looked up at him, a small frown on his face. "I know you don't like me, and I know you certainly won't try and do so today or tomorrow. But- but at least trust that I want what's good for Thomas as well. I'm self-preservation, for Christ sake, I'd be going against my job description,"

"Well, then why do you always act like the embodiment of a Disney Renaissance villain all the time?" Roman blurted out.

"Roman?" Thomas asked tensely, but Roman soldiered on, rambling incessantly like if he won’t get his thoughts out on Janus now, he won’t have another opportunity later.

"What? He's a creepy cookie! You're a creepy cookie, Duplicity!"

"Roman!" Thomas repeated.

"You're like an oatmeal raisin cookie that's primarily composed of raisins, no one wants that, least of all-!"

"Pump the breaks, Princey!" Thomas said.

Roman's eyes widened like he was somehow realizing, just now, that he said all of that, "I- I'm sorry," He placed his hands on his face in embarrassment.

"You pump those breaks,"

"I'm sorry, I just- I'm feeling a bit more truthful? Just getting all of my thoughts out there, I'm-"

"Take it easy, Roman," Janus warned.

Roman groaned into his palms once more. “Ye-yeah, I got that,”

"But to answer your rather blunt question, I was under Vi-" Janus halted before continuing as though he didn't pause his sentence, "-the belief that a dark persona would help you listen to me, that maybe if I played the villain, you- you'd listen to me. But gradually, I realized that perhaps it wasn't working as I anticipated," Janus said sheepishly. "So, I needed a bit of a break from that whole spiel to attempt and- reinvent myself, you could say. I wasn't planning on leaving you for so long, and I -maybe, possibly- thought you would enjoy the lack of my presence,"

Roman snorted, "Look how well that-" He quickly shut his mouth with one look from Thomas.

A silence passed. It was stifling and Janus was about to ask if he could go back up to his bedroom so he could be actually comfortable but Logan spoke up before he could do so.

"Well, that sounded monumentally unwise and incredibly out of character for you, Duplicity,"

Janus growled, "What? Is the embodiment of selfishness not allowed to take a break?"

"Vill, you are an incredibly important survival instinct, and it's astounding that you don't realize that, even with you saying you understand your purpose," Logan sighed, "I realize that we have undermined your presence more times than Roman can count-"

"-hey-!"

"-but you simply must understand that without you around, Thomas would suffer," Logan summoned a graph and marker and gestured to the title. "The relationship between selfishness and performance can be expressed on this curve, known as the Yerkes-Dodson curve. It's named after the psychologists, R. M. Yerkes and J. D. Dodson. They-"

"Get on with it, Calculator Watch!"

Logan frowned, hurt flashing in his eyes as he reluctantly continued. He didn't even seem to realize it. Janus tensed. His room was beginning to take a bigger hold on them than he envisioned.

"Up here is where you want to be-" Logan gestured to the point of the parabola, "-the optimum degree of constructive tension. Yes, too much selfishness pushes us to this side of the curve, and performance is hindered, which is less than ideal. But without you at all, Thomas is not just on this more overworked, under prepared side of the graph which is also not ideal when you're trying to get things done. He's all the way down here,"

"By the horn of a unicorn, that was going somewhere! I thought I'd have to drag our attention away from that stupid graph like it's somehow more important than me because my self-worth is incredibly poor and I just want someone to-" Roman slapped his hands over his mouth, flashing Janus a grateful look.

Janus stared at him with wide eyes but turned his focus back to Logan, "So, without me, aren't you always on the other side of that- um-"

"Yerkes-Dodson curve, yes," Logan ended for him.

"I was blanking on the word 'parabola', but that works as well,"

"There are ways I can work on that, Vill. But I'd rather work on it with you than without you at all," Thomas said earnestly.

"I doubt you can guarantee that with Morality around," Janus said softly, stealing a glance at the side in question, who just looked down ashamedly.

"We can all work on that, Vill," Thomas amended. "It's important because you need to be listened to. You're an important part of me -all of you are- but I need to recognize how much you need to control for me to function well. You're kind of like Roman, in that sense,"

"Well, we're both multi-faceted and we do encompass a lot of your wants and needs," Janus muttered.

Logan added on, "You're what holds Thomas back from overworking himself, you're there as a protective instinct first-"

"-and you're there to make sure Thomas gets what he wants!" Patton exclaimed, startling Logan.

Patton noticed Logan's stiff form and wide eyes and quickly apologized. "Sorry, was that too loud? I was worried I wouldn't get another chance to speak and I wanted to share my thoughts before I forgot them if Vill went on another-" Patton shut his mouth and didn't continue, however, did shoot Janus a thankful look, who reciprocated it with a concerned look of his own.

"Duplicity," Janus looked to Thomas, "In small doses, you're what encourages me to treat myself a bit when I've gotten a lot of work done. To take extra time with my appearance so I'll like who I see in the mirror, and to know when enough is enough. I- I'm lucky to have you the way I do,"

"Agreed, constant narcissism isn't pleasant for others around you, nor is it healthy for your mental health if it continues to the point of a lack of empathy," Logan said, not noticing Patton and Janus's flinch. "Whether it's a symptom of a different issue, or a narcissistic disorder, or the unfortunate result of something someone is going through,"

"And I don't want to downplay any of that, but I think maybe I could benefit from trying to hear you more,"

"And I'm grateful for that, but that doesn't-" Patton cut Janus off.

"Vill, you're what helps make Thomas happy. You're the- encouragement he needs to go out and do something for himself, like getting a hot dog or a new Frogger game. And that small action, even if it isn't much, makes me grateful for you. I- I never truly realized how happy you made me whenever you encouraged Thomas to get something he wants or to take a break from studying or practicing. And I think that's as good a sign as any that you're willing to help Thomas, even if it's through small gestures. And that happiness, that drive, makes us... better," Patton said before bursting into tears, starting to ramble.

"I- I'm so sorry, I thought you were the worst person ever and now it’s like I’m confronting these two different versions of you and I just feel really sad all the time and it's not because of you, I just keep acting all happy and hoping that the bad thoughts'll just go away-"

"-I still think that curve is useless, Logan, I can easily just poof it away and then we can focus on something actually important like me because I have an incredibly small ego and I just think that our time would be better spent-"

"-well, first off, it's called a Yerkes-Dodson curve and second of all, this is the episode where I finally got listened to and now you're starting to complain? It's almost like no matter how hard I try, you never listen and just argue with me even if I’m trying to help-!"

The three lapsed into separate, overlapping arguments, venting about all of their issues and letting their emotions cloud their filters. Janus winced, "Uh, oh..."

"Uh, what the heck is going on?"

"These three have been in my room for far too long and now they can't handle the... effects of staying here for this amount of time,"

"And what are those effects?" Thomas practically yelled, trying to be heard over the three venting sides.

"Saying whatever is on your mind in full honesty and with all of the emotional clarity without thinking of the consequences. And in combination with that , they’re driving you far over the other end of that parabola, not realizing or caring about what the others are saying and simply caring about airing their frustrations to nobody in the hopes that someone will hear and listen to them,"

"What?!"

"Hold on. We're getting them all out of here. Thomas, do not forget what you've learned. Now, think of truths. Not facts, per se, just things you personally know to be true about yourself or the world around you,"

Thomas took a deep breath, trying to ignore the yells, insults, and crying and just focused on himself. "I like cats, the sky is blue, musical theatre is really important to me-" He continued listing things off as Janus sank the gradually quieting group back down to the living room.

The group popped back up again and Janus began to scold them, "Well, that was an incredibly idiotic thing you all did, but I wish I could say I was surprised,"

Roman looked at Janus, astonished, "You... rescued me,"

"I wouldn't say rescue, but I am self-preservation and you were airing out problems I had a feeling would be too… personal for us to discuss at the moment," Janus amended.

"Incredibly right, just as you keep Thomas away from joyless and unwanted situations, you also enable him to find an escape out of them," Logan said.

"Thanks, Vill," Patton said, his tear marks glistening on his face.

Janus felt his human side flush at the praise and waved his hand, "No big deal, Patton. But I still find it hard to believe you all went through that for- for me,"

Thomas smiled, "It was worth it to regain my good ol' self-care,"

"That's right and just like you saved us, it's the cautious people that work that hardest to save others and themselves from harm, whether it be mental or physical. Sometimes it's better for a society to preserve itself than be needlessly selfless," Logan added on.

"I'm glad to have you back, Duplicity, and I promise to make sure you feel listened to and strive for a better balance from here on out," Thomas's gaze refocused on the camera, "And to all of you out there-"

"Wait," Janus found himself saying. "Good lord, I might actually be considering it,"

"What?"

"If you truly want to strive to make me feel listened to, I- I'd like it to be halfway,"

"What do mean by that-?" Roman started but quickly cut himself off as Janus began to take off his glove.

"I know this might feel... unnecessary but I would still like to be on an even playing field with you all, even if it makes me a bit uncomfortable," Janus explained haltingly, flexing his fingers experimentally.

"Oh, Vill, you don't have to if you don't want to," Patton said, concern laced in between his words. The others nodded along with him, clearly in the same boat. But Janus lifted his bare hand, motioning them to silence.

Patton quieted, staring at him with a furrow in his brow.

He took a deep breath and held up his right hand right by his face, as though he was under oath.

"My- my name is Janus," He stated before quickly flicking his eyes at everyone's expressions and putting back on his glove, ignoring the clear shock and confusion from the others.

"J-Janice?" Roman snorted.

Patton and Logan glared at him. "Why's that so funny?" Thomas said with an edge in his voice.

"W-well-" Roman noticed the flash of hurt that passed through Janus's eyes and changed his answer, "-because, um, it's... not,"

Patton hummed, "It's not what I was expecting, to be honest, but I like it!" He commented brightly.

"The name comes from Roman mythology, correct?" Logan asked. Janus nodded, too stunned by the positivity to respond.

"It was... unexpected-" Roman said, shifting his weight on his feet, "-but it must have taken a lot of trust to tell us that... Janus."

Janus gave him a slight smile as Thomas began saying his pre-end card monologue. Something about learning new things about yourself and how the 'bad' things about yourself can have pros about them at times.

In truth, he wasn't paying much attention, he was busy being confused over the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest that came after the fact.

Oh god, did he have a lot to tell Virgil and Remus.

[autodidact-adventures]

Siberian History (Part 6): The Time of Troubles

By the late 1500s, Russia was one of the largest nations on earth. Its many principalities had been united by stealth & force under the reign of Moscow, and now that the Khanates of Kazan & Astrakhan on the Volga River had been subjugated, Russia was now a multinational state.

From Ivan the Terrible onwards, the tsar claimed to rule by “divine right”.  This was already common in Europe, but the Russian tsar's power was autocratic and absolute.  One contemporary wrote about Ivan, “like Nebuchadnezzar, he slew, had beaten, elevated, or humbled whomsoever he wished.”

The state bureaucracy was growing, and near the top was the Boyar Dumar, the royal council made up mostly of men of noble birth.  There was also an inner cabinet of councillors, whom the tsar could consult.  But it was said of Ivan that he often did so “in the manner of Xerxes, the Persian Emperor, who assembled the Asian princes not so much to secure their advice...as to personally declare his will.”

Russia had a population of about 13 million people, mostly impoverished peasants who worked on large estates, or worked their garden-like plots in tiny hamlets across the land.

The old aristocracy had been humbled somewhat, and the service gentry had arisen to take its place.  The difference between the two was that the old aristocracy inherited their titles & land by inheritance, whereas the service gentry were awarded estates for service to the tsar.  However, the service gentry would eventually acquire many of the prerogatives of the aristocracy, including titles and inheritable estates.

Russia had no true middle class, independent merchant guilds, or any mercantile economy of the sort that was beginning to grow in many European countries.  The gosts (“great merchants”) were appointed by the Crown.  All offices & positions were in the employ of the state, i.e. “state service”.

Travel within Russia was restricted, and travel abroad was almost unknown, “that Russians might not learn of the free institutions that exist in foreign lands.”  Police surveillance was widespread, and people had the “duty to denounce” – no matter what rank or standing people had, they had to politically inform on each other, and report whatever they knew or heard about disloyal acts or thoughts.

Punishments were harsh, and torture was common.  People could be torn to pieces with iron hooks, beheaded or impaled, branded with red-hot irons, have their limbs cut off, or beaten with the knout.  The “knout” was a short whip with a tapered end, and attacked to this tapered end were three tongs of hard tanned elk hide, which cut like knives.

The roads were poor, and there were no inns between towns for travellers.  Alcoholism was a major problem throughout the nation.  There was little intellectual curiosity – even a simple knowledge of astronomy, such as the ability to predict eclipses, could lead to a charge of witchcraft.

One foreign diplomat said that the habit of oppression had “set a print into the very mindes of the people.  For as themselves are verie hardlie and cruellie dealte withall by their chiefe magistrates and other superiours, so are they as cruell one against an other, specially over their inferiours and such as are under them.  So that the basest and wretchedest [peasant] that stoupeth and croucheth like a dog to the gentleman, and licketh up the dust that lieth at his feete, is an intollerable tyrant where he hath the advantage.”

Foreigners saw the Russians as a semi-barbaric, insular people and state, arrogantly self-assured as the true bearer of Christianity, but rife with ignorance, supersitition and immorality.  One visitor to Muscovy made up a rhyme about it:

Churches, ikons, crosses, bells, / Painted whores and garlic smells, / Vice and vodka everyplace – / This is Moscow's daily face.

To loiter in the market air, / To bathe in common, bodies bare, / To sleep by day and gorge by night, / To belch and fart is their delight.

Thieving, murdering, fornication / Are so common in this nation, / No one thinks a brow to raise – / Such are Moscow's sordid days.

But it was not as bad as foreigners claimed.  The common people were genuinely religious, and a renaissance was taking place – through trade and other contracts, Western cultural influences were beginning to have an effect.  These influences, combined with Russia's rich Byzantine heritage, might have brought about a true renaissance, but these currents would be overwhelmed by the bloody legacies of the immediate past.

Ivan the Terrible's tyrrany had divided the nation in two; and the social enmities he had created would outlive him.  In 1581, he killed his eldest son, Tsarevich Ivan Ivanovich, during an argument.  When he died himself in 1584, his son Fyodor succeeded him.

Fyodor I was absent-minded and reluctant to be monarch, and he relied heavily on the boyars appointed to be his guardians.  Plots sprung up, a power struggle ensued, and Boris Godunov became the dominant figure behind the throne.  Boris was a noble of Tatar origin, and his sister was married to Fyodor.  Soon, he was recognized as Lord Protector (as the English called him), and the de facto head of state.

Under Godunov's reign, trade prospered, revenue increased, taxes decreased, and peace returned. Fugitive peasants returned to their homesteads, more arable land was cultivated, grain prices fell, and granaries recorded large surpluses.  Construction increased, with stone walls around Moscow and Smolensk; many new churches, expanded port facilities at Arkhangel, and the completion of the Ivan the Great Belltower in the Kremlin, reaching upwards in three tapering octagonal tiers.

There was military progress as well.  Godunov made headway against the nomadic peoples in the southern steppes (between Russia and the Crimea), established a series of important fortified towns, recoered territory lost to Sweden during the Livonian War, and pushed Siberian conquest eastwards from the Ob River.

When Fyodor died in 1598 without an heir, Godunov was offered the crown.  He denied it three times, to demonstrate the inevitability of his succession, and looked to the masses for his support.  At his coronation (in the Dormition Cathedral on September 1st, 1598) , he declared: “As God is my witness, there will not be a poor man in my stardom!” and tore the jewelled collar froms his gown.  Jealous nobles called him Rabotsar, which means “the Tsar of slaves”.

There are no known contemporary portraits of Godunov, but this is what he probably looked like.

After Godunov's coronation, favours were announced, army & administration officials received a substantial salary increase, merchants were granted tax breaks, and the natives of Western Siberia were exempted from taxes for a year. Godunov said: “We take a moderate tribute, as much as each can pay...And from the poor people, who cannot pay the tribute, no tribute is to be taken, so that none of the Siberian people should be in need.”

But this could not solve all the problems.  The biggest problem was the competition among landed proprietors for peasants to work their estates.  The more prosperous of them tempted peasants away from their smaller holdings.  Many of these small holdings were held on military tenure, so their decline affected the security of the nation.

The government tried to solve this problem by binding the peasants to the soil.  Peasants' freedom of movement had already been severely curtailed over the years, but now new decrees pushed them towards serfdom.

The service gentry squeezed everything they could from their peasants, who were already near breaking point because of state taxation.  As a consequence, violence spread.  In Russia's heartland, bands of highwaymen (who were once peasants) ransacked monasteries & manorial estates.  Along the southern frontier, legions of the disaffected accumulated.  Things were moving towards rebellion.

From 1601 – 03, protracted crops failures led to famine and mass starvation.  Godunov distributed money and grain from the public treasury to those who were destitute, but widespread hoarding & profiteering by landlords & merchants (including the Stroganov family) not only negated his actions but made it worse.  

Whole villages were wiped out. People ate cats, dogs and rats, as well as bark and straw.  Human flesh was sold in public markets.  An eyewitness wrote that every day in Moscow, “people perished in their thousands like flies on winter days.  Men carted the dead away and dumped them into ditches, as was done with mud and refuse, but in the morning, “bodies half devoured, and other things so horrible that the hair stood up on end” could be seen.  A court apothecary rescued a little girl from starvation, and entrusted her to a peasant family; he later learned that they had eaten her.

Thousands of unemployed labourers, and peasants abandoned to their fate by uncaring masters, scavenged throughout the countryside, or fled into the wilderness. This was the Time of Troubles, which lasted from 1598 to 1613.

It was beyond Godunov's control, and his standing fell.  He was a legitimate tsar, properly elected; but he couldn't claim any dynastic link with Russia's “sacred” past.  People soon began to see him as a ruthless usurper who had taken the throne through violence, crime and deceit.  Rumours spread that he'd murdered Tsarevich Dmitry Ivanovich (Ivan the Terrible's 9-year-old son by his seventh wife); that he'd poisoned his own sister; that he'd poisoned Fyodor I himself.  Godunov's spy network uncovered many plots, but discontent was still growing stronger.

There was an uprising in 1603 by peasants, fugitive slaves and bandits, which the army put a stop to. The people began to long for the protection of a “born tsar”, romanticizing even the worst parts of their past.

Then a rumour sprang up that Tsarevich Dmitry had miraculously survived his assassination, and was about to retake the throne.  The pretender (known later as False Dmitry I) was backed by the Poles, and in October 1604 he crossed into Muscovy, leading an army of mercenaries and volunteers.  This False Dmitry was conventionally ugly, “a strange and ungainly figure with facial warts and arms of unequal length”.  He was a charismatic leader, and many people joined his cause.  His army was over 16,000 men by November.  Godunov, feeling helpless, turned to sorcery & divination to try and alter his fate.

False Dmitry I.

Godunov died on April 13th, 1605, from poison or a stroke.  His wife and son were murdered within the next few weeks, and the Kremlin was stormed.  False Dmitry I ruled for nearly a year, from June 10th, 1605, to May 17th, 1606.

Then he was toppled by Vasily Shuisky, who became Tsar Vasily IV.  Shuisky had the right pedigree, but not popular support.

New uprisings and foreign invasions followed this.  In June 1607, False Dmitry II, again backed by the Poles, advanced on Moscow.  This led to Vasily IV's deposition in July 1610, and the installation of a Polish tsar, Vladislav I (he would later become King of Poland, in 1632).

Vasily IV (17th-century painting).

It seemed as if Muscovy would be partitioned.  Russian popular armies rose up in the north and east, and advanced with patriotic fervour.  On October 25th, 1612, the Polish garrison in the Kremlin capitulated, and the foreigners were driven out.

On February 21st, 1613, a national assembly elected a new tsar.  This was Mikhail Fyodorovich Romanov (Mikhail I), the grand-nephew of Anastasia Romanova, Ivan the Terrible's first wife.  The Time of Troubles then came to an end.

[theeternalspace]

Title: (Honey you Should) See Me in a Crown 3/?

So it’s late here, I’m hot and sleepy but here! Have chapter three of this train wreck! This is... well, not a lighter chapter really, but it a bit of a breather from the heavy torture to see what else is going on in the world and get a bit of plot. And then more pain. 

Also there is no unsympathetic characters in this story, but the fake Anxiety is a mean boi who has a lot of mean thoughts about the characters so be aware of that. 

Previous || Next

Masterpost

Summary: A fake Virgil has been sent into the mindscape. How will he fare? 

Word Count: 4.8k

Characters: Fake!Anxiety, Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Roman Sanders

Trigger Warnings: Possession/Corrupted Side, Evil!Roman, blood, illness, confusion, lots and lots of negative thinking. If I missed any let me know and I will edit.

~

So this was the area where the main sides lived. Anxiety wasn’t impressed by it, hunching deeper into his purple and black hoodie, suspicious eyes darting around as he stepped out from the Imagination and into a hallway that was at once familiar and completely new to him. He wasn’t really very fond of this hoodie either. What had been the problem with the old one? It was all black, it was comfortable and he didn’t have to stand out while wearing it. All and all, it had been a perfect hoodie. Perhaps he could wear it in the comfort of his own room - the memories he had taken told him that the other main sides didn’t come in unannounced and that the ‘others’ didn’t come in at all. Which was almost a shame, Anxiety had all sorts of ideas as to how to distract them from the Boss and what sort of fun he could get up to now he was off the leash. Ideas that would be so much better if he could somehow rope in Deceit and the others.

Perhaps once he was back in the safety of the room that was now his, along with the hoodie, he could plot how to approach them without giving the Boss’ game away. It wouldn’t do to upset the new Creativity, Anxiety giving a little shiver of fear at the thought of making this version of Roman angry. He had to toe the line, follow orders. 

Which wouldn’t be so hard when the main order was to distract the two idiots left running the place so that they didn’t notice until it was too late. Anxiety could do that, his gaze still shifting around, on alert for any threat as he headed down the stairs. 

It was all so... bright. There were no shadows, no place to hide, to watch events from a distance. He was supposed to protect by his fearsome reputation but how could he possibly do that when everything was so disgustingly... soft? These idiots had no idea what sort of monsters lurked in the darker corners of Thomas’ mind. They saw Anxiety, Deceit and thought they knew the worst of what there was on offer? The fools were going to get themselves overrun and corrupted, as surely as Creativity had been and Anxiety wouldn’t do a thing to stop it. He would rather enjoy seeing them be broken and changed for the worse. 

Just think what Thomas could get up to, when he wasn’t shackled by such petty ideas of good and evil. 

His name would be in lights, that was for sure. Just perhaps not the sort of lights that they had originally hoped for him. It was perhaps not the best thought for an Anxiety to have, but as much as Anxiety had claimed that title for himself, he knew he wasn’t an exact duplicate of the Anxiety that had come before and was now enjoying his Boss’ own brand of hospitality. There was some of Creativity in him too, some Intrusive Thoughts, some darkness that let him enjoy the thought of a dark Thomas in turn and being feared, respected. Having them cower in front of him. That promised to be more than entertaining. 

What could the memories of the old Anxiety do against the rush of power that was that? 

“Virgil, there you are, did you find Roman? Is he okay?” Morality came out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel as he spoke, a so painfully obvious fake expression of concern on his face. As if Morality cared about Anxiety or even Creativity. Anxiety tried not to let any of his discomfort show at the use of that name. It didn’t feel right, not when he was different to the Virgil they knew. But he had to play the part and that meant trying to embrace the name as best he could. At least until things changed and he could find a name of his own. Or the Boss killed him. Whichever way it went and he was loyal to Roman, he would follow him anywhere. Even to his death. It was one of the few things that the two of them agreed on, their loyalty towards the other side, even if it manifested itself in different ways. 

“Yeah, he needed a little help but we managed to solve the problem,” Anxiety replied, the not quite a lie rolling off his tongue with ease. He couldn’t do an outright lie on the off chance that it summoned Deceit but a different type would hopefully slip by without being noticed. He pulled his phone out of his hoodie pocket, doing his best to appear casual about the whole conversation. 

“I think he’s almost... embarrassed honestly. Princey needed some help. He said he was gonna go fight the Dragon Witch or something. Just a way to boost his ego I guess, give him a while and he will come swanning back with some grand tale we all have to listen to and pretend to be impressed by.” 

The trick would be not to press too hard, not to make it seem like he was trying to convince them not to go looking for Roman. Anxiety had other ways to stop them if it came to that, but he was, by nature, lazy and he didn’t really want to have to go to those lengths straight away. The aim was to distract them, not to go to war with them. 

Not to mention, they would be far more suspicious of his intentions if he was that obvious. Logic especially, despite his name, was the sort to want to do something because one of the others tried to stop him. Some Logic he was. The Boss would make him better. The Boss would make all of them better, just as soon as he was done playing with the original him and getting whatever he wanted from him. Anxiety had no idea what that was, but then it wasn’t his job to know that. 

“Oh come on Virgil, his tales are very entertaining,” Morality protested, Anxiety successfully managing to hide the smile he wanted to give and just as he had hoped, the moral side had latched onto his slight dig and so been distracted from the fact that Creativity was still within the Imagination. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Anxiety mumbled, and he didn’t want to push it too far. From what he knew of Virgil’s memories, he rarely disagreed with Morality and he had to play by those rules for as long as possible. The wimp, always agreeing with the other side, always going along with whatever plan he had because it was better than showing his own views. It was pathetic, how scared he was all the time. Convinced that if he dared to show any original thinking, then they wouldn’t be friends with him anymore. 

 “I just wish he could... be more open you know?” Anxiety finished, pushing aside those thoughts for now. 

“I get it kiddo... come on! Wanna help your old man make some dessert after dinner? If Roman’s busy it’ll just be the three of us but we can still cook up a storm, whatcha say?”

That... sounded like hell. He didn’t want to have to spend any more time with Morality than he had to but Virgil was apparently a masochistic moron who enjoyed the company of this blind but sunny idiot. Morality might be upset, or worse, suspect something if he said no and Anxiety couldn’t risk that.

“Sure,” Anxiety agreed with a tight smile, following Morality back into the kitchen. He could do this. It couldn’t last forever and as soon as possible he would make some excuse and get out. That, at least, was the sort of thing that Virgil would do. There was only so much socialising either of them could do. Anxiety was rather looking forward to getting his hands on his new bedroom. There was a lot of stuff he would no doubt have to throw away, but at least there he could express himself properly. 

The Boss could end this at any moment and while Anxiety was determined to do his job to the best of his ability, he was equally determined to have as much fun as he could. For as long as he could. Who knew what could happen tomorrow. All he had to do was think of an excuse to get out of this ridiculous ‘family bonding’ that Virgil willingly subjected himself to. 

He watched as Morality bounced around the kitchen, pulling out various pots and pans, collecting what seemed like a ridiculous amount of things in order to make what looked like some kind of pasta and garlic bread dish. Who knew you needed that many vegetables and green leaves in order to make a sauce? Why didn’t he just click a jar into existence like any normal side? 

Why did he have to make something complicated? What was wrong with a power bar or some takeaway if they wanted to be more elaborate. It was less work and Anxiety felt as though he had already done more than enough of that already today. Well. Convincing Morality had taken less work than he expected. One of the perks of looking like his precious ‘dark strange son’ he supposed, but it had been enough for him. 

Anxiety opened his mouth, his mind working away, a dozen possible excuses coming to the forefront as he tried to decide which one he was going to use to get away from this room. He never got as far as actually speaking. 

A sudden stabbing pain shot through his body. Anxiety gritted his teeth against the sudden agony, turning his head away from Patton and towards the wall as though that could mask his expression. Without conscious thought, his fingers twitched towards his thigh as he tried not to make his discomfort too obvious. 

What on earth was the Boss doing to the original? 

Not that he particularly cared one way or another. Not until it became so violent that it actually spread across the blood bond and affected him too which seemed to be exactly what was happening now. It had to be bad, really bad. Maybe there would only be one Anxiety sooner than he expected and that was almost enough to make him smile through the pain. Almost, but not quite. Anxiety certainly didn’t smile. It would ruin his whole look and unlike Virgil, he had no intention of softening his edges just to be accepted. He was here to spy on the others - and to keep Thomas safe - not play happy families with them. 

There was another stabbing pain in his thigh, Anxiety unable to stop his whole leg from twitching in pain, a soft little curse slipping out from under his breath. 

“Language!” Morality sang out from the other side of the kitchen and just how good was his hearing? Anxiety had been attempting to be quiet and yet he had heard it? That was just annoying. Yet another thing to add to his list of what annoyed him about the light sides and he was going to fill a whole mental notebook at this rate. Maybe he should actually conjure up a book once he was back in his new room. Something to keep himself sane with, he could write down all the disgusting, fake things they had done during the day.

Maybe, he could even show the Boss. It would be a good way to record down information he needed, as well as working out his issues with the idiots. Not to mention, it would be just pain, good, spiteful, fun. 

The bubbly side moved up to him, his head cocked to the side like a rather stupid dog. That was a pretty adept description now he thought about it - all wagging tail and soft dumb eyes with nothing going on behind them. Anxiety repressed another curse and he had wanted to get away from him, not have Morality come closer. 

“Virgil? You okay there kiddo?” Morality asked, his face still that mask of syrupy concern, acting the worried parent. It was a good act, he had to admit. Not good in that he was enjoying it in any way, but good in that he seemed able to keep it up permanently. 

It was sickening. How could the old him stomach all this? All the sticky sweetness, the fake honey that made him feel so dirty, and then worst of all the lies? Morality was just stringing them all along for the sake of his own superiority. He liked having the three of them dancing to his tune, following his outdated and boring ideas of what was right and wrong. 

There was no way he could be sincere in caring for Virgil. Who could have possibly cared for that screw up? 

No, it was all just to keep Virgil under control. All the better to make sure he didn’t get in the way of what Morality wanted. Just like the Boss was doing, but at least he was honest about it. He had said from the first second of Anxiety’s existence that his whole purpose was to make him ‘sing’, to break him and have him dance to his whims instead of Morality’s song. Anxiety much preferred the honestly of his Boss. 

“I’m fine,” Anxiety muttered, staring down at the floor and hoping that the lie would be believable enough. Or if not, then Morality would accept that he wanted to be left alone. Not everything had to be talked about and explored in any great detail. As though they really needed to talk about feelings, ugh. 

“You don’t look fine. It’s okay Virge, you’re allowed to be feeling rough. You’re allowed to admit if you’re under the weather,” Morality lectured, lifting a hand to press it against his forehead. It took everything in Anxiety not to slap the touch away, to growl and snarl as he wanted and how dare he think he could touch without permission. How dare he put himself into Anxiety’s personal space as though he has any right to be there. 

The nausea that rose in his stomach for a moment was only partly due to the pain still throbbing in his leg. It felt like a fire, radiating out from one single spot on his leg. 

Although. This could be just the chance he had been waiting for. The way out of having to help make a meal. He would have to be careful. Play the sick card too strongly and he ran the risk of Morality transforming into a mother hen and insisting on nursing him, which would be so much more worse than a meal with them. He sighed, making an attempt to look reluctant, almost embarrassed. 

“Okay, maybe not fine. I think I just pulled a muscle or something? Seriously... Pat, I’m good.” 

He shrugged his shoulders, adopting that casual slouch that was as much a part of Anxiety’s persona as his outfit. It felt comfortable, slipping into the role for real. He wasn’t the warm, nurturing type. It felt much better to be the edgy emo. Why would Virgil ever try and be something he wasn’t? 

Anxiety started to limp towards the fridge. It was only half acting, his leg still throbbing from the phantom pain that was spreading out from a spot in his thigh. It ran along his veins, something hot and unpleasant. Anxiety had to keep reminding himself that he wasn’t actually bleeding. If he touched his leg, his hand wouldn’t come away sticky and wet. 

It was infuriating that Virgil wasn’t even here and he was still ruining  his day. Anxiety was going to have to get Virgil back for that. It didn’t matter that Virgil had no idea they were connected in this way, or that he wouldn’t have done it on purpose. It didn’t even matter that the Boss had been the one to actually injure Virgil - as far as Anxiety was concerned it was still his fault. He reached the freezer, hand curling around the handle. Without looking back at Morality, he spoke, pulling it open as he did. 

“I’m going to get some ice and lie down for a bit okay? I’ll get myself some food later.”

By the time Anxiety turned around, ice pack clutched in his hands, it was to find Morality visibility deflated, a disappointed and resigned look in those brown eyes. No doubt disappointed that he would only have Logic for company that evening. It was hard for Morality to manipulate Logic - oh, he could still do it, of that Anxiety was sure, but he tended to need the others to sweep the logical side along in the direction that he wanted. So much the better. The two of them probably wouldn’t get any silly ideas like going to look for Creativity tonight.

Morality nodded slowly, taking a step to the side which finally opened up Anxiety’s escape route. He was so close to getting out of this. 

“You’re right of course Virgil. You go rest it. I’ll bring some food on a tray up for you kiddo, so you don’t have to walk too far. I’ll leave it outside your door, just make sure you do some easy stretches.” 

That was. Surprisingly nice of Morality. Not the niceness itself - he expected that. What was strange was that Anxiety couldn’t see the point to it. If he left the tray outside without trying to talk to him, then he couldn’t try and guilt him into joining them for some family bonding. 

Was it to make him feel guilty? Obligated? Ah. Yes, that had to be it. Do something nice and pretend you didn’t want something in return. And then, down the line, after Anxiety had made the mistake of accepting the gift, then the trap would be sprung. Easy, Anxiety just wouldn’t touch it. Except then he might knock and there would be more interactions. Okay. He would take it inside but not eat it and then with Morality tried to use it against him, he would be ready. 

He grunted instead of answering properly and limped out of the room and started to climb the stairs. It was time to do some redecorating in his new room. 

--

The world was a confusing mix of pain and the complete absence of sensation. Was he ill? Virgil had been ill once or twice before but it had never felt quite as bad as this before. He remembered having the flu, long after he had properly moved upstairs into the main side area but at the same time long before he had been accepted by them. He remembered lying in his bed, shaking and shivering. The world had shifted from hot to cold back to melting again in the blink of an eye. Just like now in fact. 

Did he have the flu again? 

Virgil felt so weak, so terribly weak. When he could focus enough to think at all, those were the thoughts that consumed him. How ill he felt, how he could feel the cold sweat across his body. Sometimes, he was aware of other things too. Such as the brush of a wet flannel across his forehead, a cooling relief to the fire that was raging under his skin, albeit only for a moment. As soon as the flannel had passed, that coolness shifted to new cold sweat, a shiver wracking his frame. Could you be both on fire and freezing at the same time? It certainly felt like it and that meant there was no real escape from the torment. 

Over the sound of his own laboured breathing, he could occasionally hear a soft voice promising that things would be alright. Virgil always wanted to answer that voice, but his throat was so dry. Even swallowing was painful, talking felt far beyond him.  Every now and then - but far too rare for his liking - something cold would be lifted to his lips and Virgil would be able to swallow a mouthful of blessed water. It was never enough to soothe the ache in his throat, instead it only seemed to make him that much more aware of how much it hurt. 

He wanted another mouthful. He always wanted another mouthful, Virgil able to make a pitiful sound or two that could have been a request for more. It was the same routine, with Virgil only ever remembering after he made the sound what would happen next. The glass would come close again, would hover against his lips and then pull away without another drop.

Despite knowing it was futile, Virgil couldn’t help but try and follow that glass as it was pulled away from him. Every time, his body refused to work as it should, his head falling back into the pillows with a pained little cry. Every time two sounds would come to his ears. One, the soft clink of a glass set down upon a table somewhere. And two.... And two. Well, it almost sounded like a laugh. But that had to be the flu talking surely. Why would someone help him, only to laugh at him? 

There were rare moments of clarity as well. Moments when he was alone and the fire and ice had shifted to mere hot and cold. Seconds that told him the problem was coming from his leg. The slightest movement would set off the pain, would leave him helpless and broken upon the bed. In those moments, more than ever, it felt as though he was on fire and the source of the flames was his leg. You didn’t get the flu in your leg. You didn’t get any sort of illness in your leg, not like this. But if it wasn't the flu, what was it? 

Virgil tried to snatch at those thoughts, to knit them together into some kind of cohesive thought process. All too soon, however, that moment would pass and he would slip back into semi-awareness, moaning softly from the pain. 

He had no idea how long he existed in the haze. It could have been an hour, an afternoon, an eternity. Time had long since lost all meaning but gradually, he could feel himself start to float upwards, towards a lighter shade of darkness. The murmur of a voice became somewhat more distinctive, so much so that Virgil could almost make out what was being said. He didn’t want to wake up properly. Virgil knew that much. The real world was dangerous. It was sharp where his current world was all soft edges and pain yes. But even the pain had an element of softness to it, a detachment to it because he could slip further back into the dream world at any time. 

He wasn’t ready to wake up.

Something pressed down on his leg. 

The world exploded, Virgil arching upwards in an agonised scream, the sound torn from his vocal cords as he thrashed in the bed. Where the energy was coming from, Virgil didn’t know. He didn’t know a lot of anything right now, except the pressure was still wrapped around his leg. That almost but surely not, laughter sounded again. 

“It’s okay little bird, its okay. Hush sweetheart.” 

Virgil know that voice. He could recognise the sweetness, the melody to it. Roman. Roman was here. Roman had to be the one who was looking after him. Roman had brought him drinks and wiped his brow and was now sitting with him so he wasn’t alone. It both comforted and scared him. Why would it scare him? It was Roman, and Roman was his friend. Was his family and now that Virgil was starting to under the meaning of that word, having Roman here meant so much more to him. 

So why did Roman sound so... so gleeful? 

“Your leg got infected but it's going to be fine. I’m going to take care of you, okay?” Roman again, and infected? His leg? What had happened to his leg? Why couldn’t he remember? At least he finally knew why he was sick, even if he didn’t know the ‘how’. 

The pressure vanished once more, Virgil feeling his whole body go limp as he left out a sharp exhale. The pain was still there of course, sharper than before, a throbbing, piercing agony that kept him from slipping back into the safety of the daze.

“Come on darling. Open your eyes for me. Let me see those beautiful browns,” Roman coaxed. Dimly, Virgil could feel his hand against his face, fingers dancing lightly against his cheek. He wanted him to open his eyes? But that sounded so hard, that sounded like effort. Roman had been looking after him, had taken care of him and the least he could do was try and look up at him like he wanted. 

With a great force of effort, Virgil forced his eyes open. It felt as though he was prising open a really strong set of magnets. Finally, light spilled in, the world blurry and made up of a mass of odd shapes and colours. He would say it didn’t look like his room but it was hard to make out anything in this state. It certainly was lighter than he remembered his room being, but perhaps Roman had simply managed to convince the curtains to remain open. If he had been unconscious, he wouldn’t have been able to keep them closed on purpose.

Virgil blinked but the world remained out of focus. A shadow fell over him, a blend of red and black colours swirling together and it took him longer than he would have liked to realise that he was staring up - probably - at Roman. 

It wasn’t his usual colours. Why was... why was Roman wearing something else? For that matter, why was he in his room at all? It wasn’t safe for them to be in his room and Virgil was sure he would have dragged himself to the one place he felt truly safe the moment he realised he was hurt. 

Like an animal crawling into some dark corner to die. 

Something was wrong. His anxiety was finally kicking in, his mind screaming at him, that something was very wrong. Beyond his leg injury. 

“-ear me? Songbird, come on darling, I need to focus, just for a moment, please?” 

Songbird? What kind of nickname was that? Roman was really slipping in the whole insulting nicknames based on his looks and interests if all he could come up with was a songbird. That was nothing like Virgil. Anyway, what was with all the darling and pet nicknames in general? That wasn’t like Roman at all, and Virgil knew he was missing something important. Something that was hovering just out of reach, an elusive memory that he couldn’t quite latch onto. If only he could remember how he hurt his leg. Somehow, Virgil just knew that was the answer to all his questions. Roman started to talk again. 

“Going to let me take care of you? I’ll make it all better I promise. Just say yes. That’s all I need to hear sweetness. Yes and I’ll get you some water, I will get you fixed even better than before...” Roman sounded so sincere, so persuasive as he made his offer. It sounded wonderful, Virgil was already so sick of being sick. Of being weak and helpless. He wanted to be better, no he needed to be better. Who was going to look after Thomas and the rest if he was ill?

Virgil didn’t understand why Roman was asking instead of just helping, but maybe he was making a real effort with consent and stuff. He was pretty sure that kind of thing didn’t count when you were ill and needed to be looked after. It was... nice, to think that Roman wanted to look after him. Even nicer to think that he cared enough about Virgil and his issues to get permission when it wasn’t really needed at the moment. Roman was the best type of friend. 

Not to mention, water would be amazing right now. 

“Yes...” Virgil mumbled, forcing out the word, his throat protesting painfully against even that. He couldn’t see the smile on Roman’s face but despite that, Virgil couldn’t help but give a little shiver, as though someone had just walked over his grave. He closed his eyes as he felt another cool flannel pass over his forehead, trying to still the nagging doubts that were pressing in on him. 

Letting Roman help him was the right thing to do. 

So why did he feel as though he had just made a terrible mistake? 

tag list;

@jittery-glittery @applecannibal @cookiethedevil @i-will-physically-fight-you @jemthebookworm @4amanxiety @plaid-purple-patches @hikarisakurariver

[ilovemygaydad]

Dance, Dance

Part Five: The Sound of Music

Based off this post that you really need to read for context!

Pairings: Analogical and Royality (past sleeplogical)

Characters: Virgil, Patton, Logan, Roman, Sleep/Remy, Deceit/Dominic, October/Toby, September/Ember

Warnings: domestic abuse, swearing, sexual humor, crude comments, bullying, making out, abusive deceit, mentions of vomiting (just one word), step parents, food mentions, rejection, logan’s kind of an asshole to virgil, and possibly something else

A/N: a few people asked me about dominic using both she/her and he/him pronouns, and the explanation is that it’s just me fucking things up. like, that’s it. you can hc him however you want, idc, but I’m just stupid. also, chris is from Sleep is for the Weak

Masterlist | Ask Blog | READ ON AO3

Tags: @adultmorelikeadolt @disneyfanatic77 @logan-smarter-than-you-sanders​ @punsterterry​ @mycatshuman @fluidityandgiggles​ @sadpunkrat @theunoriginaldaisy​

Logan had been buzzing with anticipation all weekend over who his mystery guy could be, and he could tell that it was getting on Roman’s nerves no matter how much he claimed to be a sucker for a good romance, but it was just… He was absolutely captivated, and the only clue that he had towards the identity of his mystery man was an iPod. That in and of itself should be a huge clue because, honestly, who had an iPod in 2018, but that was just it. Who even had an iPod? Not a single person that he could think of.

With that dead-end in mind, Logan turned to yearbooks. He knew that there was a possibility that he had danced with a freshman or sophomore, but he obviously didn’t have access to yearbooks from the previous year, so he had to rely on his own freshman and sophomore yearbooks. Those, too, came up with a dead-end. He found someone close--Patton King--who, in sophomore year, had dyed his full head bright blue, but the bouncy curls were completely different to the light waves in the hair of whomever he had danced with.

Logan had begrudgingly told Roman that they would have to take this search more public. Sure, there were mysteries that Logan simply wouldn’t be able to solve, but this one was so much more complicated than he had originally thought, and he was certainly going to need help.

“Hey, um, Mx. Elliott…”

“Oh, Logan! Welcome back to school--though, I’m a bit hurt that it took you this long to come and visit me.”

Logan blushed a bit. He felt bad about not visiting, but there were only so many hours in the day where he had time off. “I’m so sorry, Mx. I promise that I’ll stop here more often.” There was an awkward pause as Logan thought of what to say next. “So… How is Mitchell doing?”

“Oh. I broke up with him for good. I took yours and Joan’s advice, and I kicked him out of my apartment about six weeks ago.” They fiddled a bit with the sleeve of their sweater uncomfortably. For years, Elliott had been a good friend of Logan’s, but they were dating this awful guy named Mitchell for just as long. Elliott’s self esteem was ripped to shreds time and time again, and they had a hard time listening to their cousin, Joan, and Logan’s advice.

“I’m very proud of you for doing that. I’m sure that it took a lot of strength, and I’m glad that you’ve gotten your life back into your own hands.” Logan paused and held out the iPod. “However, I didn’t come here merely to talk pleasantries. I need to find someone. I danced with him at the ball, and he dropped this, and--”

Elliott smirked. “And you fell in love?”

“What? No! No, of course not.” Tick. “Well…” Tock. “Maybe…” Tick. “But it’s none of your business!”

“You literally came here for my assistance, Logan. It is by definition my business now.”

“Hush! Just--Roman--PA!” Logan pushed Roman, who had been standing there silently, at the PA system to make the announcement.

And, in normal Roman fashion, it was ridiculously extra. “Ladies, lords, and non-binary royalty, The Prince is on the mic to ask you all formally if you have seen a handsome lad who ditched my best friend Logie--”

“Logie?!”

Roman covered the microphone with his hand as he hissed, “Logan didn’t rhyme there!”

“Shut up and hand over the mic,” Logan growled as he pushed Roman out of the chair and sat down. “Hello. It’s me, Logan Parker.” He took a deep, calming breath. “On Saturday, I danced with one of the most amazing people. You left in a hurry, and you ended up dropping your iPod on the ground. In all honesty, it was the best night of my life, and I want to give you back your iPod, so… if you are able to name the top four songs on your playlist, I’ll return the iPod to you. And maybe we can get coffee or something. Roman and I will be sitting in the center of the cafeteria at lunch so that we can find you.” He unclicked the on button of the PA, and sat back.

“You Gucci, Specs?” Roman asked.

“Yeah. I think so. This should be easy.”

“Okay, Chris. Go.” Logan felt every ounce of his soul drain from his body as his eyes flicked over to the dozens of students lined up to try and prove that they were his mystery guy.

“‘Livin’ la Vida Loca,’ ‘Maria,’ ‘She Bangs,’ and ‘Shake Your Bon-Bon.’ All by Ricky Martin.”

Logan swiped at a puddle of tears that had been left on the lunchroom table with his hand. “Sorry, but that isn’t it.”

The boy stormed off, and Logan let his head fall into his hands. This was a disaster. Logan mentally kicked himself for not being able to recognize who he was looking for right off the bat. He was such an idio--

“Hey, Lo. Do you want me to go around the line and kick out the excesses?” Roman whispered gently.

“God, please do.” Logan looked up; he felt like he was going to cry. “They’re all the same cookie-cutter Hollywood guys, Ro. That guy from the ball was special, but… what if I can’t find him?”

“Are you kidding? You are the Logan Parker! I have no doubt in my mind that we’ll find him.” He smiled. “I think he helped pull you out of your slump. There’s no way I’m letting a guy like that go.”

“Thanks, Roman.”

“Hey, what else is a prince for?”

Virgil shivered as he felt cold water drip down the back of his neck, no doubt staining it with streaks of purple. He had been unlucky enough to fall asleep during his second block class, and one of his asshole classmates got their hands on some glitter glue and wrote transphobic slurs in his hair. It was pretty standard for shit like that to happen, but Virgil had only dyed his hair again yesterday to it’s full purple potential, so it sucked that he had to wash it again. And Patton was pissed. That was pretty normal, too.

“If that teacher had known any better, she would have reported that guy for harassment!”

“Pat, just leave it. She was doing what would protect me from the wrath of administration. If she had reported him, she would have had to explain why I didn’t stop him, which would have gotten me in trouble, and I probably would have been taken out of school by Dominic. I’m already on thin enough ice. Mrs. Larsen was helping me.” Virgil began to ascend the cafeteria stairs, slipping around people who were stationed on the sides.

“That’s still such bullsh--”

Virgil pulled Patton to the side of the stairs with enough force to dislocate a shoulder. “Shut the fuck up for a second and look.”

“Holy--”

“I didn’t think he’d actually do it!” A dozen yards away sat the longest line of people that Virgil had ever seen outside of a Black Friday sale at the Gucci store in Los Angeles. And there was Logan at the head. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Virge, you’ve gotta go down there and tell him before someone starts a riot!”

“No!” Virgil turned to Patton. “No way.”

Patton wildly gestured at Logan. “He said that it was the best night of his life.”

“Yeah. Until he finds out that it was me.” He threw another glance at Logan. “Let’s just go.”

Virgil and Patton continued to their classes, but underneath the stairs, Toby and Ember had heard everything.

The second that Virgil entered the house, Toby and Ember were there to intercept him.

“Look at you, acting all innocent!” Toby snarled. Virgil needed to know that they weren’t going to let him steal Logan away.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Virgil looked confused and tried to evade the twins.

“Oh,” Ember said, gripping Virgil’s arm tightly. “We know it was you at the ball with Logan.”

There was a short pause before Virgil said, “You guys are crazy.”

“No, actually, you’re the crazy one if you think that we’re going to let you end up with Logan, you weird stalker!”

“And if you tell him that it was you,” Toby interjected, waving one of the copies of Virgil’s video in the air. “Your video will be everywhere. Hello, YouTube!”

Virgil scoffed. “You guys can barely work the toaster, let alone YouTube.”

“Try us.”

Ember pushed Virgil away. “Go make dinner. We’re hungry.”

Virgil stared at the twins for a few moments and walked away. Toby turned and went to the door.

“Hey, Toby, where’re you going?”

Toby froze. “None of your business, Ember! I mean, uh, nowhere. For a walk… Uh, outside.”

“Oh. Okay, bye!”

“Yeah, bye.” Toby slipped out the front door and went straight to Virgil’s room. “Playlist. I need to find that playlist.”

Clothes, pencils, notebooks, and everything in between was scattered through Virgil’s room as Toby searched. For twenty minutes, he found nothing, until…

“Aha! Hidden in plain sight, of course!” He lifted up a pillow and found an old Macbook. Without a second of hesitation, he opened it up and went to iTunes. “Okay… ‘Dying in LA,’ ‘Save Rock and Roll,’ ‘Freeze Your Brain,’ ‘Defying Gravity,’ and ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’ Perfect!” He scribbled the titles onto the back of his right hand and went to make his leave, but the door swung open right as he was about to open it, and he was flung into the wall.

Ember sauntered into the room and gasped when he saw the laptop. He picked it up to find the songs, but it tumbled right out of his hands and onto the floor. It was obvious from the loud cracking sound that the laptop wasn’t going to be useable anymore.

“Can you give me a hint as to what genre the songs are?” Chris asked, pressing closer to Roman and Logan. “Are they emo? Metal? Electroclash? Latin pop???”

“Okay, everyone! Disperse yourselves.” Roman hopped up from his seat at the table to usher people away. “Come back… after class or something. Logan’s going to take a break.”

Logan slumped in his seat and waited for Roman to return to speak. “I’m never going to find him. This is hopeless.”

“Hold up. What is this illogical garbage that I’m hearing from you, Logan?” Roman looked more offended than usual.

“It’s not illogical, though.” It was more of a question than a statement.

“It most certainly is! Say there’s an equal fifty-fifty distribution of males and females at our school--excluding the lovely non-binaries, which would make up around 1% of our school, probably. That means that there are about 750 males at our school currently. Sure, the odds don’t seem great, but there’s a chance. Therefore, Logan, we must keep hope that you will find your prince.” Roman smirked. “Logical enough for you, Specs?”

Logan smiled a bit. “Go away.”

“Nah. I’d never ditch my best friend, Lo--”

“Logan Parker!”

“Toby,” Roman sighed, standing up to escort the twin away. “Dude, Logan is on a break. Please come back during business hours, or you can send a letter that will be processed in five to seven business days.”

“Oh, of course. I’m actually in the mood for a prince…” Toby flirtatiously traced his finger on Roman’s collar.

“Are you serious?”

“No! Get out of my way!” Roman was flung backwards with a surprising amount of force, and Logan was only able to stare at his best friend as Toby approached. “I’m The One, Logan!”

Logan didn’t even have the energy to muster a laugh. “Yeah, right.”

“I can prove it. I know all of the songs on the playlist.”

“Of course. Do go on.”

Toby smiled a dazzling smile. Well, dazzling in the blinding way with his bright orange, sparkly braces bands. “‘Dying in LA,’ ‘Save Rock and Roll,’ ‘Freeze Your Brain,’ ‘Defying Gravity,’ and ‘Bohemian Rhapsody!’”

Roman rejoined Logan and whispered, “This is impossible. Right?”

“Ha! I’m right! Kiss me!” Toby surged forward, and Logan almost fell backwards trying to evade him.

“Woah, holy--wait!” Logan held Toby at arm’s length. “You’ve got to dance first.”

“What?!” Toby spluttered. “But--I already told you the songs! That’s all you asked. And I’m not warmed up, and there’s no music!”

Roman sighed dramatically, hanging off of Logan. “Logan, darling, he’s obviously not the one you’re looking for. I mean, he can’t even dance for you.”

“Oh, you’re right!” Logan swerved around Toby. “Well, see ya!”

“No, wait!” Toby grabbed Logan’s hand and spun him back to the table. “I love to dance!”

Logan watched in horror-filled awe as Toby started to “dance” in harsh, seizing motions. In all honesty, he hadn’t expected anything like that. Roman, completely unfazed, decided that it was time to leave, and he dragged Logan away as Toby continued to dance.

Logan was tired. He was really fucking tired of having being, well… for being Logan Parker. It honestly just sucked to be famous. Which sounded stupid and pretentious, but it was true. People fawned over him, and he just wanted some coffee, but there was only shitty canned espresso in an overpriced vending machine, so here he was. In a random hallway getting coffee. He jabbed at the coffee button and leaned down to grab the can. As he stood up, he came face to face with Ember standing in what he could only construe as a seductive position against the vending machine.

“Woah, okay, Ember…”

“Ready to meet your mystery guy, Logan?”

“You know the songs, too? God, can I just catch a break?” Logan ran a hand through his hair and started to walk away, but Ember tugged him back.

What is with these twins and tugging people around?

“But I’m the real freaking one! And I freaking love you, so you’d better freaking love me back, you freaking freak!” Ember yelled. Logan blinked a few times at the outburst.

“Way, way, way deep inside, I’m sure that you’re a… decent person, Ember, but I’ve really got to go--”

“I can prove it!” He threw his backpack on the ground with a dull plop. “Through dance!”

Before Ember could even get very far into his equally as awful dance, Logan ditched the scene, eager to find Roman to get out of the school for his off period.

“Oh my god, Virge. I can’t believe the twins would hold that video against you! You were literally eleven.”

Virgil ate another spoonful of frosting from the tub that Patton had bought him, glaring out the windshield at nothing in particular. “What do I do? I don’t want Logan to think that I’m a fucking stalker! Not to mention the fact that he obviously doesn’t remember me from pre-transition, so he’d find out about that, too. People like me don’t belong with people like him.”

“Look,” Patton said seriously; although, the off-kilter blue bow in his hair made it a little difficult to actually take him seriously. “You and Logan clicked out there on the dancefloor. You have to talk to him.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh huh--oh, look!” Patton pointed out the window at Roman and Logan passing by. “It’s showtime, Virgil! You’ve got this.”

“Yeah! I can do this.” Virgil reached over to open the door, but he whipped around again. “Wait, you know what? Let’s get some food first.”

“Yeah, no,” Patton deadpanned.

“Fuck, fine!” Virgil rushed out of the van before he chickened out and walked over to Logan’s car. “Hey, Logan. I need to tell you something really important.”

“Oh!” Logan smiled charmingly, and damn this stupid crush that Virgil had. “Hello. You work for Dominic, correct?”

“What? No! That’s not what--”

Roman, from the other side of the car, giggled. “You had shrimp in your hair.”

Virgil glared at him. “Well, I mean… Yeah, that was me, but that isn’t what I wanted to say.” He took a deep breath. “I’m--”

“Oh my god!” Logan threw his hands in the air in frustration. “Seriously? Dominic is relentless. First Toby, then Ember, and now you, too?” He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “Just… I’m looking for someone, okay? I don’t have time to talk. Especially not about that stupid duet. I’ve gotta go… It was nice seeing you.”

Roman and Logan sat in their seats, and Virgil took a few steps back as they pulled out. He watched them for a few seconds before racing back to Patton’s van. Without hesitation, he whipped open the door and grabbed his back and skateboard from the floor.

“I told you, Pat.”

“Oh my god, he blew you off!”

Virgil sighed and backed away a bit. “Whatever.” He slammed the door shut and skated off, ignoring the tears that fell down his cheeks.

Part Six

[ethospathoslogan]

our place under the cosmos; a sanders side fanfic

A/N: me: *has a side blog for two days* okay time to write some fanfiction. also, this title is way more poetic than it has to be.

also, im just really emotional abt all the sides bonding

WC: 3,017

Logan found comfort in the cosmos. A skylight took up the ceiling in his room, mirroring whichever room Thomas currently resided in, and the sky doing the same for whatever it appeared outside.

But the stars- the stars were what Logan took solace in. A vast span of light and darkness combined together into one elegant wonder of knowledge to be explored. The length of the universe was so easily accessible to Logan; all he had to do was look up. Logan wasn’t the fanciful type, but even he could admit beauty when he found it.

The cosmos were Logan’s mediator. It stood where he usually did in arguments among the others, and listened as he did to the points being made. The only thing it could not do was speak back to him, but Logan didn’t need that. Logan, sitting under the skylight with his head craned up, did not come to his room to hear an ethereal voice fix his problems. He came here to work out the arguments he had with himself and contemplate the ideas and thoughts that ran through his mind.

The stars being there quieted him, rationalized him. He looked to the above and saw what he needed to to find reason. It was just him, his thoughts, and the stars. And that was enough.

Typically. Typically, it was enough.

Now, however, looking to the stars, all he felt was an unsettling confusion- the confusion of not knowing, but being unable to address what it was that one did not know.

“What you don’t know can’t hurt you.”

It was a lie. Of course it was a lie. It was coming from the mouth of Deceit, the literal embodiment of manipulation and dishonesty. If he said ten statements, nine of them were definitely false, and the tenth was debatable.

It bothered Logan then, but Logan stood up for knowledge then. With knowledge came power, with knowledge came security. Problems could easily be solved with an objective look at the obstacles and the acceptance of the knowledge needed to move forward.

So then why did Logan feel stuck? Why did it feel like there was a chain tethered to his core, keeping him where he sat?

Why was he doubting knowledge, the very essence of who he was?

No. No, he wasn’t doubting knowledge, per se, but more so the things that he did not know.

He looked up to the stars and saw ignorance. He saw a truth, barely yet learned, being smeared by lies and twisted words. He saw the lie being accepted as fact. The world being too big to accept the truth, the actual truth, once the falsehood had been ingrained into the minds of its inhabitants. There were those who did not question, those who accepted what they were given because either the current material did not matter to them, or they had no inclination to question; but what of those who did? What of those who questioned the false claim given to them, but found no truth? If there is no one to deliver the truth, then dishonesty wins. A lie becomes cemented in history and considered knowledge.

And then maybe, just maybe, that was when knowledge could hurt. There was knowledge in the world that no one had yet to obtain, and if one person was there to corrupt it, its fate was sealed. A lie could carry throughout history, slander some names and ellevate others.

Logan wanted to be the one to put an end to that. To make knowledge the safest place one could reside in. But he found himself fearing what he did not know, and how he might never know everything.

Of course, it was illogical to think that one could know every piece of knowledge in the universe. There was something new to discover every day. But with deceit in the doorway, Logan feared what would happen if it got in. If Deceit got a foot too far in the door.

A chill ran down Logan’s spine at the thought of Deceit so easily quieting him. Perhaps he already had a foot in.

Logan heard the light gust of wind that wasn’t really there and turned his head to see Patton with the hood of his cat onesie pulled over his head.

“Patton, hello,” Logan greeted. He had not expected guests in his room.

Patton had his eyes on the sky above them, the moonlight reflecting in his glasses. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he beamed back at Logan. “It must be quite the sight every night.”

“Three rhymes in one sentence, impressive,” Logan noted, turning his gaze up. “And yes, it is magnificent.”

Patton sat down next to Logan, crossing his legs and tapping his fingers on his knees.

They sat in silence together for a few moments before Logan finally turned back to him. “Is there something you need, Patton?” he asked. After a beat, he followed with, “Not that I’m opposed to having you here. You can stay as long as you like. I just… did not expect you.”

“Well, you seemed a little off before, kiddo,” Patton started. “And then when you came in here, it was like I could hear you thinking from all the way in my room! So, I decided to come here and see if you were doing alright.” He smiled at him.

Kiddo, Patton’s word typically reserved for Thomas in a time of a crisis. Usually an emotional one. Logan, however, was fine. “I thank you for your concern, Patton, but I’m just thinking.” He thought he was fine.

Patton stayed silent for a moment. “Logan, you don’t have to hide things from us. Not anymore, but you never had to.”

“I’m not hiding-” Logan then faltered and huffed out a breath, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He knew what happened when they lied, who happened. And of course Patton would see right through him. “I have found myself thinking… thinking more than I usually do, that is.” Patton nodded on, encouraging Logan to continue. “I -it’s quite ridiculous, actually- I have been thinking of knowledge, and of course how it helps us, but… Deceit has caused me to consider other ways knowledge could be used, and how it could be manipulated.”

Patton nodded, looking back up and taking in what Logan said. Logan realized that he shouldn’t even be throwing all of this at Patton in the first place; he was the one Deceit decided to use as his disguise. Logan should be the one checking to see if Patton was alright, not the other way around. If Logan cannot be of a sound mind and be there for-

“It makes sense to be scared, Logan,” Patton said. Logan never voiced his fear, and yet Patton understood. “Deceit took all of us by surprise. It’s what he does best. He tried to… make all of you see and think what wasn’t actually there. Anyone would be scared of that.”

“Yes, but I am the logic here. I am the analytical one, the one who is supposed to disregard subjectivity when focusing on a situation and turn to objectivity. If I wish to remain so, I need to not be… scared,” Logan said.

“Falsehood,” Patton said, unable to hold back the giggle in being able to use Logan’s iconic phrase. “Everything you feel is valid, and does not take away what makes you, you. And besides, you should never hold back your feelings, Logan!”

“I’m not one for feelings, Patton, you know this,” Logan sighed.

“Logan, it’s unhealthy to keep everything inside, especially your feelings that… aren’t so happy,” Patton explained. “I would know, kiddo.”

Logan then shut his eyes, mentally kicking himself for being so insensitive. He rubbed his brow, huffing. “I apologize, Patton. I wasn’t thinking when I said-”

“I’m not looking for an apology,” Patton said and bumped their shoulders together. “I’m just saying all of that so that you can learn from my own mistakes. None of us should be hurting! You don’t have to instantly be okay with not being okay, but it’s a progress that we all can help each other with, help you with!”

Logan smiled at his friend before looking upwards again. “Very astute, Patton, I’m impressed.”

“Well, your room does that,” Patton said.

The familiar brush of wind was heard again. Speaking of the others, Logan thought as he turned to see Roman.

“Hey Roman,” Patton beamed.

“Welcome,” Logan said as Roman looked around.

“I think your room actually got more nerdy,” Roman said, turning back to them. “And for someone so organized, I would think that your books would be neater.”

“I would think the same,” Logan agreed as Roman sat down with them. “However, I find that you can not enthusiastically sift through books and keep them neat at the same time.” He let out a soft laugh, brushing fallen hair out of his eyes. “How did you know to come here?”

“Well, you came here initially, obviously,” Roman began. “And then Patton was like ‘I need to go see if Logan is okay’ which myself and Virgil were like ‘okay?’ but then Virgil started to think that maybe something was up. I first thought that was because, well, y’know, it’s Virgil. But then I thought that maybe he had a point? You seemed less you than usual-” Roman flicked his hand in exchange for a better word, yet Logan understood what he was saying “so we discussed, and yes it was civil so there is no need to worry! And then we decided to come here..”

As if on cue, the fourth member rose up, looking utterly disheveled. Bangs hanging over his eyes, Virgil pressed his fingers to his temples. “I still don’t understand how you all do that every single time,” he muttered.

“You become used to it,” Logan said at the same time Patton called out, “Walk it off, Virg!”

When Virgil finally regained his senses, he approached them. “So, good to see that we’re all still being buddy-buddy without the need for an overwhelming emotional crisis,” Virgil said, sitting down with all of them.

“We are buddies!” Patton exclaimed.

Virgil then looked up at the stars. “And we’re all meeting under a vast abyss.”

“I think it’s beautiful,” Patton said.

Logan looked up. “I think it can be both,” he decided upon.

Virgil then turned to him. “Speaking of,” he said. Logan could hear the hesitation in his voice. “You… okay?”

Logan thought for a minute. To say that he was fine would not be the complete truth, and he did not want to feed into that any longer. But he didn’t think he was stuck in an overwhelming crisis that needed immediate attention. He was just… in a rut. It was like Patton said: it was a problem that they can all help each other with.

“I found myself doubtful of certain things that I devote myself to,” Logan finally said. “Patton came, and we spoke about that, along with some… recent events.”

Logan didn’t need to specify what he meant by that. Everyone already knew.

“I do not like that guy,” Roman huffed.

“I really do not like that guy,” Virgil agreed.

“He used me to try to trick all of you, plus he was in my spot the entire time,” Patton said. “He didn’t make a good impression when we met him, and he definitely didn’t make one for Thomas.”

“I must admit, though,” Roman said. “Despite the circumstances, acting alongside Thomas was quite fun!”

“You made a very good Joan,” Logan said. “A very good Joan playing various people who were not Joan.”

Roman grinned. “Thank you, Logan, I do try my best.”

“I’m just so sad that I missed it!” Patton frowned. “You know I love seeing your acting, Roman!”

“I give it a two out of five stars,” Virgil said and held up a hand before Roman could object. “Princey actually did fairly well -yeah, that’s right, no fighting here, Roman- some of the jokes could have been better, though. Thomas’ stories fell flat though, like the Mother’s Day one! What even was that?”

Logan couldn’t help but laugh and Patton said, “I still would have liked to see it.”

“Well, unfortunately for you, Pat, it was a one night only show,” Virgil said.

“One night joan-ly,” Roman quietly corrected.

They all then looked up. The night sky was clear, the stars perfectly visible in all their glory.

Roman then sighed, breaking the silence that settled. “I don’t mean to… bring the mood down, but now that he’s been mentioned… I don’t think our meetings with Deceit are finished.”

“We have to all work together,” Logan said. “Unlike other problems, I, too, do not think that this one- that he will be one to disappear after that quick appearance. Now that Thomas is aware of him, we have to remain wary and band together. We do not know when he, or the others, will make their appearance again.”

Roman nodded. “Uh, Virgil?” he said, facing their friend. Virgil raised an eyebrow in response. “You know, well at least I think you do but, you know Deceit, along with the others, better than us, yes?”

Virgil sighed before blowing his bangs out of his eyes. “Unfortunately, I know them more than you guys do,” he said. “If Deceit showing up is any inclination, and it probably is, the others aren’t too far behind.”

Logan worried his bottom lip. The four of them had finally started to really smooth out any tension between them. With the appearances of these “dark sides”, as Roman dubbed them, everything they worked for will just be undone.

“Well, what can we do?” Patton asked.

Virgil stayed silent for a moment, looking up at the cosmos above him. “Remember this moment, because this might just be the most not-me thing to say,” he said. “But I think we just have to wait for them and… not really do anything unless called for. Now that Thomas is aware of Deceit, it’s easier to deflect him. Now that Thomas knows about this… dishonest side of him, we can fight against him and not fuel his power. However, with us all knowing about him and being able to freely talk of him, he’s stronger. Talking about him, being more aware of when we do or don’t tell the truth, it can just bring him around stronger. And when he’s here… when he’s with people that he can… manipulate and twist around, that’s when things turn bad. I would know.” Virgil huffed. “He doesn’t care who he hurts. He knows that we know that he lies all the time. He knows that he can look ridiculous when he’s lying and no one believes him. All he needs though is one person who does believe them, and that’s how he gets under their skin. What you don’t know can hurt you, and he uses that.”

“You would know,” Patton echoed, and they all could hear the unasked question in it.

Virgil shrugged. “Sorry to disappoint, I know we’ve all got trust established here, but I don’t think that’s something I’m ready to talk about, yet.”

“Oh, of course this is all at your pace, Virgil,” Logan assured.

“Yes, we would never pressure you into saying anything,” Roman said.

“We all waited so long to learn your name! After that, any amount of waiting is durable,” Patton beamed. “Besides, we’re all here for you when you want to open up, if you want to. We all got each other’s backs.” His eyes flicked towards Logan, and Logan smiled back at his friend.

Virgil nodded. “I can’t believe I said all of that,” he said. He then glared at Logan, though Logan felt no true heat behind it. “It’s your damn room, Logan. Making us all analytical and logical and objective and every other damn word that you use.”

“Virgil, watch your language!” Patton said.

“Patton, that is my clean language,” Virgil said, huffing out a laugh. “This is me trying.”

“Oh,” Patton said. “Well, then we appreciate that!”

“You know, we should go to my room!” Roman exclaimed. “There, we can talk about our dreams and live them out and it will be great! Imagine how many ideas the four of us can get out!”

“A ten hour ted talk all about the Library of Alexandria,” Logan said, smiling. “That would be my dream.” He was only half-joking.

The other three were silent for a moment.

“That’s my nightmare,” Virgil muttered.

“I changed my mind. We shouldn’t go to my room. Also, I think it’s my time to leave. You know, got… songs to sing,” Roman said, waving his hand around to fill in for excuses.

“Or I saw cookies somewhere,” Patton said. “We can all just find those.”

“Deal,” Virgil said, standing. “Anywhere but here. I can’t stand being so… thinking all the time. I do enough thinking on my own.”

“Being so thinking?” Logan smirked, standing up with the others.

“I know what I said, Specs,” Virgil said, jutting a finger in his direction before turning to Patton. “So, Patton, hypothetically, where did you see them?”

All Patton had to do was get the word “kitchen” for Virgil to sink out.

“This is so exciting,” Roman grinned. “We’re all here and together and there is no external or internal conflict to bicker about!”

“It’s a miracle,” Logan smiled.

“Well, on that note, we’ll try not to eat them all on you two,” Roman said before sinking out.

Patton, the only one remaining, then turned to Logan. “So, you okay?”

Logan thought for a moment. “I will be,” he finally said.

Patton smiled and nodded. “You know we’re all here for you, Logan. You don’t always have to be the analytical, stolid one.”

Logan smiled back at his friend. “I know.”

Logan decided that perhaps it is better to deal with his internal conflicts with his friends, instead of working through them on his own. It was easier this way.

[jim-brian-natanauan]

BLOG 2

Too Much Light will Kill You

Maynila: Sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag Film Analysis

After watching the film, Maynila: Sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag, it was that moment when I realized that Lino Brocka really created a masterpiece. He created a compelling story that evoked powerful emotions in me as it portrayed the harsh consequences of reality if we are not careful enough of our actions. Some of my expectations were met and some of my expectations did not happen as the story took different paths that I did not anticipate. Even if some of the results were different from what I was expecting, I was left satisfied with the paths that the story has taken.

I noticed a lot of symbolism throughout the film. Starting from the title of the movie, to the names of the characters up to the details projected by some of the objects present throughout the film. We can already see symbolism from the title of the film itself such as “Kuko” and “Liwanag.” The “Kuko” refers to the violence that lurks in the streets of Manila. On the other hand, “Liwanag” symbolizes distraction. The combination of these two words is a perfect way to describe Manila because there are people who were victims of abuse after being distracted by the false hope of getting a good life in Manila. The main protagonist, Julio, was a hard-working person whose desire was to locate the love of his life. His trait was a reference to his last name, “Madiaga,” which is close to the Filipino word, “Matiyaga.” This could symbolize that Filipinos back in the days were hard-working as job opportunities were scarce and salaries given by abusive and deceitful companies were insufficient or too little. The love of Julio’s life, Ligaya, may symbolize joy. She was the sole reason as to why Julio came to Manila. To retrieve the happiness that was taken from him. Ah-Tek, the Chinese man in the story, may symbolize wealth or money as his name may derive from the word “atik.” It makes sense as Chinese people tend to be active when it comes to making money. The protest shown in the film suggests that the time of the story was in the middle of the Marcos regime. Lastly, the director used the light as a way to highlight some of the objects in the film that might suggest fortune. An example of this was when Julio got invited to the place of a call boy and my eyes got fixated to a poster of a man wearing an underwear and there was a lamp placed beneath the poster. The light projected by the lamp highlighted the junk of the man which may symbolize that prostitution was the call boy’s way of getting income.

The people from the province had the notion that fortune such as money and good education can be found in Manila. This sole reason made provincial people, especially women, pack up their things and travel to Manila to earn a good life. They did not know that life in Manila was hard and was full of individuals willing to trick people for personal gain. This shows that not everything see and hear are good and the possibility of getting into trouble is very high.

The characters and the events that transpired from the film were realistic in nature. I felt the authenticity of the settings and the characters of the film as it was filmed in various places in Manila. Some of the people in the story were not even actors which helped create a clear identity of what kind of people exist in Manila.

Judging the entirety of the film, I can say that this cannot be viewed by the minors as it tackled heavy topics about society and the behavior of the people. Prostitution was prominent as a job or occupation not only for women but also for men. Although prostitution involves sexual acts, the film did not show nor romanticized these acts. The film itself successfully showed the existence of hideous acts or the process of prostitution in the past and how the majority desired it to quench their lust or solve their financial problems. The film also showed violence as characters in the story suffered harsh consequences for their own actions such as when Ligaya and her daughter got killed when they tried to escape at night. I also noticed that wrongful individuals were assisted by the police more than the innocent. Hearing how confident Mrs. Cruz was that a policeman was going to help her whenever she felt threatened made me realize this idea.

Overall, the film is easy to follow and understand as the story focuses on the main character and what is happening in his surroundings. The film was also original in a way that its goal was to show the conditions of the people residing in Manila. Although easy the story is easy to understand, learning, or realizing the secrets or symbolism was quite the task or was complicated for me. The director made every aspect or element of the film meaningful. He was clever enough to play words to symbolize messages he wanted to relay. With these in mind, the film managed to keep me interested for two straight hours as the topics tackled reflect the society we live in and it gave more context as to what kind of people exist in our land. 

[harrisonkitteridge-blog]

Sherlock Holmes was a thing of the shadows. He was also the bearer of the light that drove out the darkness.

Before Holmes Met Watson by Harrison Kitteridge

Prologue

Sherlock Holmes was a thing of the shadows. He was also the bearer of the light that drove out the darkness. Living out this paradox could be quite stressful. Obfuscation. Lies. Deceit. He had always been fascinated by people’s attempts to subvert the truth while living in a world in which there were cameras everywhere, constantly recording, sending everything back to The Archive, where anything governments or other powerful entities hadn’t obscured was searchable. Everyone could see everything, know everything about everyone else. “The Age of Transparency” was how the headlines had heralded The Archive coming online. Mendacity now took careful planning. Saying you were working late when you were really at a seedy motel rolling around on the bed with a colleague was a nearly impossible sell now. As were most forms of impersonation. The ubiquity of biometric readers employed to do everything from unlock doors to sign for packages meant most impostors quickly set off alarms when The Archive recognised someone was in two places at once. It had become so difficult to hide, and detective work was about uncovering concealment. The spotlights The Archive shone into people’s lives made Sherlock’s illuminating insights seem like a flickering candle, and he feared he was obsolete.

As a boy, Sherlock would spend hours upon hours neglecting his school assignments to browse the Personal Archive Files of strangers. He watched in fascination as the chain reactions of their ill deeds accelerated towards their explosive finales. All the evidence was there. The outcomes were predictable, yet the affairs, the embezzling, the betrayals always seemed to blindside the victims. They see, but they do not observe, Sherlock often thought. More damningly, they thought The Archive could do the observing for them. Everyone was watching everyone else all the time, so the misapprehension wasn’t wholly unreasonable. Nevertheless, it didn’t erase the simple consequence: Sherlock Holmes was a detective who almost never had any cases to solve. If you are what you do, what did it mean that he was constantly doing nothing?

#

John Watson was a doctor and a soldier. He lived and worked in a war zone. He saved the dying and on rare occasions had to pick up a gun and kill the living. He’d been trained well to do both. He preferred the former. There were moments when John was alone that it seemed to him his life was some sort of dream or even a simulation. War was terrible and chaotic and hellish. It was also thoroughly ludicrous. There was always something to do, though, and that left you with little time to realise that nothing made sense. The why of the fight was impossible to appreciate when you were in the valley of death. And when you stepped away far enough to look in at the mass slaughter, you realised the why was never good enough, and the true insanity was anyone thinking the depth of the suffering was justified. John struggled with the contradiction in himself: he was a healer and a killer. There was something he enjoyed about the risk of standing next to that yawning, dark abyss. He tried to ignore that part of himself and focus on the bit that spent exhausting hours in the operating theatre patching up the wounded. He thought of himself as a surgeon first, but his title belied that. Everyone called him Captain Watson.

Day One: Shopping

Adaptation. It is the driving force behind evolution. The species that is better adapted to its environment is more likely to survive. Humans are incredibly adaptable. We can adjust to almost any circumstance, survive nearly anything. John Watson pondered these things as he broke into a clammy sweat and hid behind one of the large potted plants lining the gleaming hallways of the mall. He’d adjusted to life in Afghanistan, to the gunfire, the bombs, the blood, the death. Calm in the face of chaos had become his default setting, and all this… peacefulness had his nerves singing and his pulse racing. He wished he’d thought to spend his leave in his hotel room and just have everything he needed delivered: food, spirits, companionship, but especially the items he’d promised to pick up for his mates stuck back in Kabul. He’d thought the novelty of going to one of the few remaining shopping centres would be a bit of a lark, but he hadn’t realised just how much he had changed. He’d always managed to take leave with friends he’d been deployed with, and without that familiar buffer he was flailing wildly and on the brink of a panic attack all because he was in a shopping mall that was too brightly lit and filled with civilians whose situational awareness rivalled that of a thick plank. He was beginning to get strange looks.

In another part of London, Sherlock Holmes was doing shopping of his own.

They claimed the stigma had been removed, but it hadn’t. He could see it in the eyes of the pedestrians who saw him make the left turn into the building; he could see it in the eyes of the staff. There was always a measure of contempt chased with a sharp spike of moral superiority. It was the pity that rankled him the most, though. But he kept coming to the Controlled Substances Dispensary because he knew the molar concentration of what he was getting down to four decimal places. The precision of it all provided a sort of comfort, although he found the blankness of the stark, unadorned white walls sinister – their cool inhospitality was quite deliberate.  He provided a retinal scan and was assigned a number. He’d long realised that no one liked to sit by the vents on the north side of the room, which blew arctic blasts in the summer and seemed to ooze positively equatorial humidity in the winter. It was early spring, so predicting the temperature was a bit chancier, but he took his usual seat directly under the openings and was shocked to find the problem seemed to have been repaired. A pleasant, gentle breeze wafted over him, and, as he watched a young man (early twenties, art student, hooked on some variant of methamphetamines) shamble towards him, he knew his day would go poorly.

“Nice day for it,” the art student said, smiling as he took the seat right next to Sherlock.

“Is it?” Sherlock replied, giving him a scathing look.

“I suppose not,” the young man said, recoiling slightly. At least he had the decency to take the hint and move a few seats away. Sherlock sighed in relief. He abhorred familiarity.

Back in the shopping centre, John had abandoned his cover and made his way into a supermarket. He’d picked up some chocolates and biscuits for his colleagues at the hospital and was consulting his list for what to buy next when he came to the fresh fruit section. He paused in front of what seemed like acres of bananas and stared. The sheer abundance of it all seemed preposterous to him. It’s all that unblemished yellow, he thought. He picked up a hand of seven and added it to his basket. He consulted his list again and headed off to find some authentic hot pepper sauce for his Jamaican anaesthetist.

Sherlock’s number was called, and he was ushered into the back room to receive his standing order. He’d never seen the woman manning the inventory before. She had brassy red hair and a nosy demeanour. He braced himself.

“Mr Holmes?” she asked, and her nasal inquiry made him want to throw things. Of course he was Mr Holmes. Hadn’t his number just been called? Hadn’t he just been escorted in?

“Yes,” he replied. He could hear the faint whir of the machinery retrieving his medicine and felt the blood in his veins pulse a bit faster. The vials popped up from beneath the counter.

“A bit strong, isn’t it?” the clerk said, examining one of the labels.

“I prepare the final solution myself,” he replied, reaching for the vials. She withheld them.

“And you’re allowed?” she asked.

“Yes,” Sherlock responded, clenching his fist. “I’m allowed.” He stared at her without blinking, and after several moments she handed him the vials.

“Would you like some syringes?” she asked.

“I have my own, and I don’t share,” he replied, tucking the vials into his coat pocket. Part of him didn’t like the profound sense of relief he received from feeling their slight weight set him ever so marginally off balance. But hearing them clink together, knowing he had them if he needed them set his mind at ease in a way nothing else could.

As Sherlock left the dispensary, he witnessed a strange phenomenon. In the distance, dark objects were falling from the sky. At first, he thought they might be delivery drones that had been clumsily hacked and were part of an inept terrorist attack, but they were the wrong size and shape. In addition, there were no wailing warning sirens, no people running, no screams. There was only an ominous silence that seemed to have swallowed the noise of the city.

John heard them smack into the pavement wetly before he saw them out of the corner of his eye. It took every ounce of his self-control not to yell “Incoming!” and dive into an improvised foxhole. But they weren’t bombs; they were birds, plummeting from the sky like giant black hailstones, already dead before they hit the ground.

“It’s raining crows,” a woman wearing a mauve dress stated as their small crowd stood and watched disbelievingly as the avian projectiles exploded as they hit the pavement, splattering blood and entrails astonishing distances. “It’s raining a flock of crows.”

“A murder,” John said mostly to himself. “That’s what you call a flock of crows.”

“I think they’re ravens,” a man said, grimacing at the carnage and flinching at each thudding splat. “They roost in the bell towers of some of the cathedrals and in the Tower of London.”

“What are they called?” a boy asked, pulling at John’s sleeve. “If crows are a murder, what are ravens?”

John looked down at the boy. He was slender to the point of breaking, white as milk, and something about the seriousness in his pale eyes and the wildness of his dark curls set John on edge. He reminded John of the stories of the Daoine Sith his grandmother had told him. The strange boy standing there looking like one of the faie, the dead birds, the constant prickle down his spine – it all seemed to augur ill, and suddenly he wished to be back in Edinburgh starting his medical studies. That’s when he’d been happiest. Hadn’t he? “An unkindness,” John finally answered, feeling compelled by the child’s unwavering stare. “They’re called an unkindness.”

Day Two: Gardening

It was dark, dank, and everything smelled of shit. But that was how you grew magic mushrooms, Sherlock mused to himself. Psilocybe Stantonia to be precise – powerfully hallucinogenic and highly in demand. They were the fungal equivalent of precious gems – more valuable than truffles even – and, while not strictly illegal, trading in them was a dodgy business. But dodgy businesses were Shinwell’s speciality, weren’t they? That and bare-knuckle boxing.

Sherlock Holmes had met Shinwell Johnson at The Ludus, an underground club dedicated to the pugilistic arts. It was a dark, cave-like, medieval sort of place with sawdust on the floor to soak up the blood and sweat. In the pits of The Ludus there were only two rules: no weapons, and you couldn’t kill anyone – it was too much bother to clear up the bodies. Oh, and there were no rounds; the bout ended only after one of the fighters couldn’t get up any more. Shinwell had grown up there, taking on his first fight at the age of sixteen. Twenty-five years later, he had seen every combination, every dirty trick, and the vastness of his experience more than made up for the slight slowing of his reflexes. He also still had a right hook that could drop a mule.

Sherlock’s first night at The Ludus had become the stuff of legend. According to Shinwell, he had “fooking swanned in like His Majesty, the King” and stunned the onlookers by requesting to fight in the open category. To keep the fights fair and the bets coming in, there were rough weight classes, and the organisers tried to match fighters by skill. In keeping with the spirit of the founding of the club, however, there remained the open category where you could fight any and all comers. Over time, it had supplanted the heavyweight class, but every now and then some arrogant sod swaggered in and received a spectacular thrashing. There were a flurry of bets on Sherlock’s fight, and when he stripped to the waist and revealed the track marks on his left arm, the odds against him surviving more than three minutes soared to 50-to-1.

Shinwell had objected on principle – an addict wasn’t in the proper state of mind to appreciate the consequences of the suicidal decision he was making. That, and he was obviously a toff. If he died, it would bring the filth. Shinwell had nearly come to blows with the bookmakers, and only his long history prevented him from being thrown out and barred. He looks made of marble, Shinwell thought as he observed the swathe of pale skin stretched over Sherlock’s thin frame. He’ll shatter at the first blow. Shinwell had watched in concern as Sherlock meticulously wrapped and taped his hands. At least he knows to do that much, Shinwell thought, some of his worry easing. As he watched Sherlock warm up and stretch, he began to wonder if he’d jumped to a parlously mistaken conclusion. Yes, the man needed feeding up, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, and Shinwell recognised the camouflaged strength in his muscles and tendons that practitioners of kung fu called “iron wires”. But more than that, it was his economy of movement; there was a precision there that could only be the product of a disciplined mind. He began to shadow box, beginning with some simple combinations, and Shinwell choked on his chips. God, but his hands were fast. His strange, almost translucent eyes were clear and focussed, and there was something distinctly lethal lurking behind them. Shinwell had seen enough of them in his time to know: The man was a killer. Shinwell downed his pint, headed back over to the bookies and placed all of his night’s winnings on Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock’s opponent went by the moniker The Butcher, and he was a literal giant – enormous, thick-necked and notoriously able to absorb punishing blows. But he had grossly underestimated Sherlock’s speed, skill and strength. The quick combination that had The Butcher stunned then out cold before he hit the ground came after only thirty-five seconds. Shinwell had never heard The Ludus so quiet. Sherlock asked to fight again, and Shinwell let his substantial winnings ride.

The next bout remained one of the most beautiful fights Shinwell had ever witnessed. Sherlock’s adversary, a skilled mixed martial artist who called himself The Sword, was much more careful than The Butcher had been, circling Sherlock warily, trying to get the measure of the new phenomenon. Sherlock waited patiently until he had no choice but to attack, and Sherlock seemed to melt away only to surge back towards him, raining exquisitely placed blows to his vital organs. Shinwell almost wept at the elegance of the execution. Wherever The Sword went, Sherlock was there first. Can he read minds? Shinwell thought as he watched Sherlock sidestep a blow that would have at least glanced anyone else and viciously box his opponent’s ears. Shinwell knew how disorienting that ringing inside your head could be and was unsurprised when The Sword met his end.

Sherlock retreated to his corner seeming deaf to the cheers at his triumph. He was glistening with sweat and flushed, his dark curls nearly sopping wet. Shinwell was straight enough to calibrate a level, but he realised the enigmatic stranger could have nearly anyone in the room if he thought to ask, but he seemed uninterested in making any acquaintances. He had come alone and wasn’t celebrating what were thrilling victories that would be talked about for ages. He quickly cut the tape from his hands, towelled off and dressed. When he left, ignoring the many offers to buy him a pint, Shinwell followed.

Too many egos had been bruised and too much money lost for there not to be an attempt at retaliation. Sure enough, a group of The Butcher’s mates already had Sherlock cornered when Shinwell exited the building.

“Now, now, lads,” Shinwell warned. “No one likes poor losers.” There were enough of them to subdue someone of even Sherlock’s prodigious skill, but with Shinwell added to the mix, the odds had shifted out of their favour, and they wandered off muttering threats.

“I could have managed,” Sherlock said.

“Of course you could,” Shinwell replied. “There’s nothing like a good street brawl, though, is there?”

“I suppose not,” Sherlock said, something approaching humour entering his expression. At that moment, Shinwell Johnson decided to adopt Sherlock Holmes. He was an absentee parent, but Sherlock found he could count on him whenever another pair of fists were needed, and Shinwell actually had someone clever to consult about his schemes. That’s how they’d ended up covered in shit, harvesting mushrooms in a derelict greenhouse.

“How long will it take you to test them, then?” Shinwell asked.

“Most of the night,” Sherlock replied, looking at Shinwell’s thrice broken nose and scarred knuckles. All the abuse he had taken would soon tilt him towards a dilapidation that matched the disrepair of the greenhouse they had just been picking through. Sherlock turned away, wondering if he had caught a glimpse of his future.

#

Approximately 40,000 feet above, a military transport plane had just reached cruising altitude. One of its passengers was John Watson. He hated flying. He wasn’t frightened of it or anything; he just found it depressing. Shouldn’t there be some sort of teleporter that beamed you thousands of miles away in seconds? Or at the very least a hyperdrive that could complete the journey from London to Kabul in minutes not hours. What on earth were they doing on an aeroplane in this day and age? He sometimes wondered if they were part of the problem – he and his colleagues. Ready bodies to throw in front of the canons and pull the triggers made the decision to fight more palatable than it should have been, and violence and war thrived on fear. Fear is a powerful motivator, but it is also the destroyer of dreams. They’d stopped dreaming, hadn’t they? They lived perpetually crouched in a defensive position, their minds crippled by the uncertainty wrought by decades of instability.

Not liking the direction his thoughts were taking, John rifled through his bag in search of something to eat. He was slightly overwhelmed by the variety of snacks he’d crammed into his baggage, but he managed to decide on some savoury crackers and a paradoxically firm but creamy new variant of White Stilton. He offered some of his meal to his neighbours, who gladly accepted in lieu of army rations. The crackers were crisp but not hard and flaked pleasantly on the tongue. The seasoning was well balanced if just the tiniest bit over-salted, and the cheese complemented it well. Some wine was in order, John thought in disappointment. Curious about the ingredients, he read the label as he bit into another cracker. Rosemary, thyme, and (yes!) that was a bit of dill. He didn’t have a sophisticated palate, but he grew up with a father who was an excellent cook, and his mother had kept a small herb garden in the back yard. John was often called to help with the weeding and harvesting. As light as the work had been, he had always complained.

“Johnny,” his mother would say. “I want you to always remember that we are connected to the soil. We have to respect it.” And she would plunge his hands into the wet earth and laugh as he grimaced.

He’d made her stop calling him Johnny when he was a teenager. It had seemed so important then. When his parents had left him at his dormitory that first day at medical college, their eyes had been shimmering, and his mother had embraced him. “I’m so proud of you, Johnny,” she’d said, ruffling his hair. He’d blushed and smoothed his hair down, embarrassed for his roommate to see him being coddled. The insane idiocy of youth: making people ashamed of being loved.

“I told you to stop calling me Johnny,” he’d said, not wanting her to leave but desperately needing to be out on his own.

“She’ll call you whatever she likes,” his father had said gruffly, pulling him into a tight hug. “Work hard,” he’d admonished.

“I will,” John had promised.

That was the last time he’d seen them. The accident had been so bad they’d had to close the caskets. Everyone told him he should have sued the automobile manufacturer and the company that had made the self-piloting software, but that would have meant reliving it all, thinking about them like that. He couldn’t have borne it. Someone else had brought the court case, and he’d eventually received part of the settlement. He gambled the money away over the course of a single weekend.

John had started an herb garden many times over the years, and each time neglect had caused the plants to wither and die. He lived a soldier’s life, and it censured the delicacy required to make things grow.

Day Three: Gifts

Besides the quaintness of the mode of transport, the thing John hated the most about flying was how shattered he always felt after a long trip. It didn’t matter if he’d had a good kip and drank his weight in fluids; he always got off the plane feeling disorientated, dehydrated and in the mood to punch things. It’s all that recycled air, John thought, blinking to try and moisten his arid corneas. Kabul was parched, and so was he.

John was taken aback by the immense relief he felt when he entered his stark quarters. The tightness in his chest had eased with each second he got closer to the base, and the sight of his cot, camp stove and canteen almost brought him to his knees. This temporary structure in the middle of a war zone, these humble necessities created more of a feeling of home than the country of his birth. Part of it was his comrades-in-arms. The smiles and warm greetings of “Captain Watson” provided succour he hadn’t quite realised he’d needed. There were people here who knew him, who valued him. There was also a bracing sort of comfort in how unequivocal the mortal threats that surrounded them were. Death comes to us all, but for most it was an abstraction. Its proximity removed some of the fear. John found there was a certain purity in living in purgatory. Afghanistan was filled with friends and foes bent on destruction; England was filled with strangers. John strongly preferred the former.

As news of his return filtered through the base, his surgical team, poker and rugby mates all dropped by to welcome him home with warm hugs and claps to his back. And this was his home. He could see that now. He swallowed over something tight in his throat and emptied his luggage onto his cot. He sorted through the gifts he’d brought back, feeling a bit like Father Christmas. Nearly all of them had asked him to see if he could find the sweets and biscuits that had been their favourites when they were children. John supposed it lessened the sense of insecurity somehow, brought them back to a simpler time, made massive problems seem solvable. A few bottles of spirits also made the rounds. Those were for a bit of fun over a game of cards or to obliterate even temporarily the memories of the particularly bad days when it seemed they’d wandered into hell itself and the Devil had everything turned up to eleven.

John could spin a good yarn when he was in the mood, and his recounting of his sojourn to the mall had his visitors in stitches. He left out the bit about the ravens, because it seemed like too ill an omen. None of the gathered were religious or superstitious, but imagery had the power to lower morale, and, as an officer, it was his duty to keep their spirits up, even if he had to sacrifice a bit of his pride and admit he’d been overwhelmed enough by his shopping expedition to take cover behind indoor shrubbery.

They all shared a bit of scotch, and John listened as they recounted what he’d missed. Thankfully, there’d been only a few minor skirmishes, and, while any single death was keenly felt, the days when the bodies (or what was left of them) had to be stacked like cords of wood were nearly impossible to manage.

A few hours later, John was on his own again. There was one gift left in his bag. Once he’d stumbled across the snow globe with the single, blazing red poppy inside it, he couldn’t leave it behind. He’d even taken the time to have it wrapped at the store. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the gift’s intended beneficiary to come and welcome him home.

#

Back in London, Sherlock had managed to wash most of the stink of excrement from him and was in one of the laboratories at St Bartholomew’s Hospital testing the potency of the mushrooms he and Shinwell had collected. Shinwell had a mate of a mate of a bloke who was flatmates with a mycologist. It was a convoluted history to which Sherlock had paid scant attention then routed away from his long-term memory. At the centre of the labyrinth was the claim that this particular variant of Psilocybe had been bred to produce enhanced psychedelic effects. Sherlock’s preliminary tests confirmed that the mushrooms consistently contained much higher levels of the psychoactive compounds than would be expected – enough to defeat the purpose of their creation. The dosage of psilocybin was well above what was ordinarily consumed and would almost certainly poison anyone who consumed them.

Sherlock thought of the greenhouse Shinwell had shovelled full of shit and where he had devoted hours to meticulously minding the spores he’d spent nearly his entire savings on to ensure they sprouted. He called the fruit his “gold nuggets” – they were meant to fund his retirement. There had to be hundreds of pounds of the things.

Shinwell was a good sort for a degenerate, Sherlock thought. They weren’t exactly friends, but there was a measure of trust and loyalty in their relationship that Sherlock felt bound to respect. If the mushrooms had to be scrapped, Shinwell would get spectacularly drunk and instigate a pub brawl, but the next day he would bounce back and find some other get-rich-quick scheme. He always did. But the mushrooms could be salvaged, Sherlock pondered, if instead of drying them and selling them as edibles, the psilocybin were extracted into some sort of tincture that would administer the correct dosage. A new delivery method would set Shinwell apart from his competitors and perhaps even allow him to charge a premium.

Sherlock sketched out some ideas for the extraction and began a rough first attempt at the procedure. In the lab next door, an exhausted graduate student had fallen asleep standing up and missed a crucial step in her experiment, which exploded. It was nothing catastrophic, but it was enough to startle Sherlock into knocking over his equipment and breaking some of his glassware. He cut his hand rather badly and sucked at the gash while he reached for paper towels to staunch the bleeding. He tamped down on the wound and looked for the first aid kit. He spent longer than he’d care to admit awkwardly using tweezers he’d hastily sterilised to remove the splinters himself. He was minutes away from the casualty ward of a major hospital, but he didn’t want to wait for hours to be seen for a laceration, which, while nasty, didn’t appear to need stitches.

After he cleared all the debris from the wound, he cleaned it thoroughly and bandaged his hand. As he replaced the first aid kit, he heard the sound of bees buzzing. How on earth had they found a way in? He turned around and saw an enormous swarm across the room, and his usual fondness for the creatures was supplanted by a deep fear. They were too large, he realised. They were the size of sparrows. They weren’t real.

“I’m hallucinating,” he said.

He was suddenly and violently ill, turning himself inside out vomiting. The extraction. When he’d cut his hand, some of the concentrated extract must have got into the wound. It was being delivered through his blood, and he’d ingested some of it when he’d sucked the injury.

The bees were coming.

There was someone laughing maniacally.

Was it him?

His heart.

He could feel it slowing down.

It would stop.

He would die.

He needed to speed it up.

The cocaine. It was still in his coat pocket. He needed a syringe. He managed to pry the first aid kit back open, sending its contents flying.

Everything was tinted hot pink, and the sound of the bees tasted like burnt roast.

What was he looking for?

He picked up some ointment and some tablets. No, that wasn’t right.

His heart. It was dying. That’s it: a syringe for the cocaine. He rifled through the mess on the floor until he found one. He crawled back over to his work station and pulled his coat down from the stool where he’d laid it. His hands were too big to fit in the pockets, which were filled with tiny crabs. He shook the coat upside down, emptying everything in his pockets onto the floor. The crabs scurried away, and he slithered on his belly on the floor, following the rolling vials across the room.

He ripped the syringe from its packaging with his teeth. His hands were too small to hold it properly. It told him to go away, that men with small hands weren’t to be trusted. He roared at it to be quiet and shoved its pointy mouth into the vial of cocaine, pulling up the plunger to fill its throat and choke it with the solution.

A vein. He had to find a vein.

He injected himself, felt his heart begin to race, stumbled out of the lab into the hallway and collapsed.

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