#and even these poor internationals will go walk away with so much guilt

[booasaur]

When the WCK aid workers were killed, I said nothing would change, they wouldn't get justice, their families wouldn't get justice. There was some noise and I hoped I was wrong, but has anything changed? Was there any kind of justice?

Now we have this situation unfolding:

To attempt to evacuate these doctors, they have to do a trial run to see if Israel will shoot the UN/international aid workers:

Monica Johnston, a nurse volunteering at the hospital, said that a primary concern of those who will be leaving is that new humanitarian workers be allowed in, otherwise the hospital campus is more likely to get overrun by the Israel Defense Forces. The plan, she said, is for the U.N. to do a test run from the hospital to the border Tuesday, only carrying U.N. staff. If those staff are not killed by the IDF — as one international employee was on Monday — then on Wednesday two medical staff will be taken to the border, and two new volunteers will be allowed in to replace them, and so on in coming days.

In the UN vehicle that might have rescued them:

One of the surgeons trapped, in fact, the one who said he'd seen more child amputations in the last two weeks than in his entire career before, saved Tammy Duckworth's life in Iraq 20 years ago.

""Save him." Save him from who? Our ally.

That nurse quoted above about the trial run, Monica Johnston, had more to say in this interview on NPR:

Monica Johnston, a burn nurse from Portland, Ore., had been treating Zain, the 7-year-old patient, since he was admitted last Wednesday with blast injuries that left 90% of his body burned. He never regained consciousness and died early Sunday morning. "When they took him to the morgue to prep his body all his burns were infested with maggots," she said. ' I just want to help. We all just want to help. But we have no tools to do it." ... "I came thinking we could do some good, despite our webinars and preparation explaining how dire the situation was here," said Johnston, a nurse with 20 years of experience. "But as time goes on we're all feeling absolutely useless and helpless and hopeless. It feels like everyone we see in the ICU ends up dying." ... Most of the American medical staff are experienced conflict zone volunteers. This was Johnston's first mission. She said she came because her skills as a burn nurse were needed — but nothing prepared her for the things she would have to do. She said after changing dressings for Zain, the 7-year-old, she decided not to continue the extremely painful process. "You know, I think the local staff understood because I think they've seen that pattern of death. But some of my teammates were taken aback," said Johnston, 44. "It was so hard to get across that it's not that I'm giving up on him. But if I do his dressings as often as they need to, to stay clean, I will deplete our entire wound care resources just on him.

[webslingingslasher]

hii, could you please write peter comforting international student reader who misses her family?

i know a little bit about this but i was only states away and almost kermitted so i had to move back home, anyways don't be like me. i'm here for anyone in this boat, so if it ever feels like too much feel free to scream into the void that is my inbox. <3

“What the hell are you googling?” 

Peter’s sharp voice made you jump in your seat, feeling guilt immediately when he caught you in the act. You weren’t going to actually do anything but it was worth a google, you were just slightly curious, that’s all. 

“Nothing!” You try to shut the screen but his hand stops it from shutting. “Nuh uh, use my computer, tell the truth about what you’re doing.” You pucker and wait, calling his bluff. He said you could use his computer anytime you needed or wanted, this was one of those times. It was the best part about not having a laptop, you had a boyfriend that gave you free access to his. 

“How to get deported.” You mumble the words and watch him hold his head in his hands, he grunts and repeats your words. 

“How to get deported- if you get deported you don’t get to come back.” He snorts and comes to sit next to you on his bed, you shuffle further in his shoulder. You sigh, “I know, I just miss it.” 

Peter frowns, he understands how you feel. You feel like a stranger and out of place, it seems like everyone here, whether they know each other or not, are in on a big inside joke. The city feels too big, and at the end of the day, when you’re tired and hungry and poor you want to do nothing but come home to a familiar face, a warm hug from mom. Or an insult from a sibling, or maybe a passive aggressive comment from dad, something you would normally roll your eyes at or try and dodge by playing a timer in your mind to run to your room, but those were things to count on, now you were greeted by silence as your roommate failed to invite you out yet again. 

It feels scary and cold and alone and you really, really miss home. Because even if you were home, sacred, cold and lonely, you would still be at home. 

And Peter has been great. He’s invited you with loving arms, he’s given you a friends list and even extended his aunt’s love to you. But it wasn’t home, he and you knew that. Peter Parker can be magical, but he can’t make New York feel like home no matter how hard he tries. 

“It’s okay to be homesick.” He presses a kiss to your temple. You want to cry. 

“Will this ever feel like home?” 

It seemed impossible. You’d been here for over a year, that’s what makes it hard. International was expensive, you didn’t get to go home for the holidays. Without facetime you think you would forget what your family looks like, it’s hard now to imagine your hometown, and the most troubling part of it all was that even if you went home, it wouldn’t feel like home anymore. 

It's purgatory. Half between where home once was and where the bones remain, and the new home, the home you’re building yourself. No one told you it would be so hard, they prepare you for moving on and growing up but never how to fix melancholia or make a house feel like a home. They don’t prepare you to be a stranger in your own home.  

Peter stops the spirling sadness. 

He thinks on it for a minute and speaks. 

“No.” 

You look at him with wide doe eyes, sparkling with the promise of tears. 

“No?” All you wanted was for him to say this was home, did he not understand? 

Peter shakes his head confidently, “No. No, this will never feel like home, because it’s not home. It’s where you are now, and you can make it home, but it builds slowly.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Home is home for you because it’s what you knew. You could rely on your parents being there, or that your favorite coffee shop is the one from home, because you’ve been going there for half your life. Or maybe it’s home because you’ve walked those same routes until you nearly wore a tread mark in the concrete, I’m just saying home is only home because it’s routine.” 

“So I can make a new home?” 

“Of course you can, it doesn’t take away from the one you already have either. When people move away and start their life somewhere else they say it’s home, but when they go visit for the holidays what do they always say?” 

“I’m going home.” 

“And when they leave and go back to where they left, what do they say?” 

You pause. “I’m going home.” 

Peter nods, like you’ve just proved his point. 

You sigh and try to blink back tears. Those people are not like you, they’re strong and brave. You can almost bet they never cry and think about being home, or how they are impossibly far away from home. 

“And I can build a routine here? I can build a home?” 

Peter hums, “What’s your favorite part about Wednesday?” 

You grin, “Our weekly mission to eat at every pizza place in the city.” 

“And never the same one twice.” 

You hold up a finger to correct him, “Until we get through all of them first.” 

“How about Friday?” 

You wiggle next to him, excited even thinking about the upcoming one. “Discount movies at the red theater.” 

“What about coming back from school?” 

“I love to walk the long way because I get to pass under all those willow trees and I can see Kevin.” 

Peter gasps, “I can’t believe I almost forgot about Kevin.” 

You furrow your brows and speak seriously, “He’s incredibly important to me, Peter.” 

He laughs and speaks once more, “What I’m saying is you’re building a home, a routine. You look forward to Wednesdays and Fridays and Kevin’s and walking home from school, and some days are going to be really hard and you want nothing more than the comfort of home. But on those days I'm here for you. And I can try and get schwifty on trying to get you deported.” 

You lean into his arm and sniffle, “And Kevin? Will he be there for me on those days too?” 

Peter grunts, “Yes, Y/N. The damn cat from the bodega will be there.” 

[thousand-winters]

(So sorry if you got this already tumblr has been eating my asks recently gahhh)

In my head, there's this very angsty scenario of how things would play out between Darius and Hunter in the aftermath of All The Shit, where Darius basically pushes Hunter away because of his own internal guilt over how he treated Hunter during his time in the coven, not necessarily because he just feels bad about it, but because he recognizes that if he and Hunter get closer, Hunter would not allow himself to get mad at Darius for his bullying and dismissal -- the same way Hunter never allowed himself to get mad at Belos. And Darius would think Hunter deserves to be able to get angry at him, (projecting his own anger at himself, of course), so he puts distance between them in the hopes that Hunter would eventually be angry at him for the things in the coven. And poor Hunter would be so lost and confused about it -- he thought they were getting closer, that they were friends. It would take a stern talking to from one of the unexpected parents (Eda, probably) or just a smack upside the head from Camilla to set him straight again. "Darius, it doesn't matter what you think might not happen -- he's made his choice already. He wants you. And if you make him feel safe enough, whether he gets mad at you initially won't matter either, because he'll feel safe enough to deal with it eventually."

(No worries!!! Tumblr is so wonky sometimes)

Oh, my goodness, I love that.

Something I really love to play with when it comes to Dadrius early dynamic after the finale is that it can be such a mess of misunderstandings because Hunter doesn't feel like he's quite enough (right enough, worthy enough, normal enough) to be someone's child, while Darius doesn't feel prepared to be someone's parent, let alone Hunter's, which is so ironic because I think for Darius part of that doubt would come from the fact he's perhaps the adult who knows the best how much help Hunter will need and the one with the best idea of the extent of the trauma he suffered while at the castle, which means to him it feels like a more daunting situation; he does NOT want to mess things up when Hunter is currently in a bit of an emotionally fragile estate.

This would definitely play a big part here because Darius, who knows Hunter used to justify what Belos did to him because they were family —for the most part Hunter probably didn't realize some of the treatment was messed up, but when he did, he learned well to find excuses for Belos—, knows very well too how Hunter tends to let authority figures he even just remotely admires or respects walk all over him (he did that himself once, after all), and while that's definitely something that can be unlearned, he would be afraid that his own actions back then might influence too much how things go now. Especially because I think that while obviously he made up for that, at the time Hunter was a bit like a wild animal you don't want to scare by offering too much human decency at once 😭 He couldn't say "hey, Hunter, it was a bit fucked up of me to project my grief on you and insult you, you are not responsible for other people's, especially adults, emotional troubles" or else Hunter would have been jumping through the window.

So because he had to work slowly through Hunter being comfortable and not weirded out by being treated kindly and taught some level of boundaries, Darius could feel like Hunter might have a skewed vision of things and might think it's okay if Darius mistreated him, and while that might be sort of true, it's no more so than how Hunter is with any other adult with power over him.

Poor Hunter just feels like Darius was kind to him to the extent of making sure he was safe and out of Belos' reach and now he doesn't give a damn about him... and why would he when Hunter has nothing to offer? 😔 With Camila things were temporary, and with Belos he had to earn his place, so he can't just expect Darius to want him around forever or at all without doing anything for him, right? So he probably wouldn't even try to insist one bit to Darius, he would respect that distance.

Hunter and Darius are truly such a pair, out there thinking the worst of themselves and creating a conflict where there's none.

I figure Eber would be the first one to try and talk some sense onto Darius, and then probably Eda or Camila or whoever Hunter is staying with for now, since then Darius would not only have the objective view of things from Eber, but also a glimpse of how Hunter is feeling, which is very important if he's assuming that Hunter is just gonna forget their bond and thrive somewhere else if he just tries hard enough.

There's definitely going to be such an awkward period after this too, I think the whole "you can be angry at me" matter would have to be one of the firsts they tackle considering how much it escalated. Darius might not be so convinced at first, caught up as he is in his own self-doubts, but it would be very good for Hunter for his parent to say that to him, since it already shows from the first moment that this isn't going to be any kind of dynamic of servitude or anything of that sort. And you know, Hunter might not even mind that much what happened at the coven because he understands how that environment can make you angry and spiteful, and the kindness Darius showed afterward was very significant to him more than a simple apology would, but ironically he might be upset at Darius pulling his whole distancing himself move.

Not exactly how either of them expected things to go, but they can work with it, and seeing that it won't be a deal breaker will help them form a stronger bond because they know they don't have to walk on eggshells around each other... as far as it comes to this matter at least. There's quite a lot both of them have to learn.

[dr-george-ordell]

THE DISGRUNTLED GERMAN AND PECULIAR ANOMALY

@nat-of-personifs

Ludwig had immediately recognised the familiar snow-coloured hair that flickered past him at Claire's office-and those golden framed glasses. He had internally panicked immediately, first thought to bolt out the door before Vanguard could potentially recognise him. But he refrained, instead looking away, flustered, hoping the other person didn't recognise him through his admittedly poor disguise. Dread particularly ran through him when golden eyes lingered upon him for a moment, but luckily Vanguard only passed after a few seconds.

Now, he was currently fiddling with something in his hand in one of the backrooms of the meeting hall, though one could've easily assumed it to be a stadium from its sheer size. Normally this sort of presentation wouldn't have unnerved him, or caused him to particularly unravel, but after knowing Vanguard was in attendance today, it set something off inside of him, a sticky, strange vulnerability, torn open like an exposed nerve. And now his temper, alongside his control over his budding anxiety was slipping, at the mindless ramblings of Feliciano.

"-oh what would you like for dinner? Ooh, or maybe dessert first! Tiramisu?" Normally this kind of aimless drivel kept him from going insane from his job, his role, but today it was something that he did not want, or need at the current moment.

"Italy." He grumbled out in a warning voice, coming out much harsher than intended to. The other man stopped for a moment in the middle of his rather animated hand movements, looking at Ludwig with an inquiring look.

"Sorry. Something wrong Germany?" Guilt immediately washed over his mind, his hard expression softening and clenched jaw loosening, the exhausted man sighing as he massaged his forehead, shutting his eyes tightly.

"It's nothing to do with you, Italy." He began, Feliciano cocking his head to the side. "I had- I scheduled an appointment to meet with Claire. This evening. When I went to observe the building as preparation, I saw Vanguard walking out of her office." He coughed out, flushing against his pale pallor. Ludwig cringed as silence continued to wane, feeling more judged at each passing second Feliciano didn't say something. It was so uncomfortable verbalising his issues at another person, but the presence of the boisterous man soothed whatever nerves he had about telling.

To Ludwig's relief-and surprise-the other man just shrugged, still smiling in that ditzy expression he always had, though this time it had a little more love around its edges. "Oh, that's very good!" He approached Ludwig closer, placing both hands on his shoulder while looking up. "It's amazing that you're following my advice." To his surprise, the shorter man then leaned closely to his face with no warning. "But playing with that little thing down there's still always an option!" He winked as he held a salacious smirk, Ludwig gasping at how blatantly crude the other man was being.

"Italy! We're in public!" He replied, in a mixture of embarrassment and mortification. "Scheiße, we'll be late!" Ludwig loudly cursed, looking up at the clock in the room.

-

It was going smoothly thus far. Feliciano had managed to organise his scatter-brained notes into a cohesive order, sitting at his chair until it was his cue to speak at the front about the E.S.A.I., or more formally 'European Scheme of Anomalous Intergration'. Few others had presented before them, some meek, some boldly confident, particularly Alfred, who was allowed to observe, but still had the most to say from the sides.

On a normal, sane day, that would've been his main annoyance from the meeting. Instead, his source of frustration was from Vanguard-or Arek, whatever their name was. They simply sat close to the front, merely taking notes and looking around the place whenever Alfred, or some other representative spoke. What was more maddening was the fact that Ludwig felt like he knew Vanguard well, even though he'd only heard of the other person's existence last week.

Glancing back, the kid looked eerily a lot like Foundation-who Ludwig had come to known as 'Ira'. He wouldn't have exactly called the both of them friends, that'd be ludicrous, but they were cordial enough to be on first name basis, and willingly cover the other's back in regards to the world of anomalous bureaucracy, or the esoteric nature of personifications. Maybe she had only been using him as a backdoor to gain power over him and only saw him as a tool-who knows. But he had begun to miss her, and ever since her death had been declared, he suspected the mysterious stranger that had miraculously appeared one day to cover her role had a hand in her demise. Or atleast was related to her in some way, in how uncannily they looked like her.

He couldn't keep his eyes off the stranger for the rest of the meeting, careful enough not to make eye contact like he did at Claire's practice. But somehow the stranger knew. And dreadfully, he was approached at the end of the presentation while he was packing up the projector all alone, while Feliciano was out to buy lunch from a sushi bar.

"I enjoyed your presentation Ludwig." A smooth voice began from behind, all too familiar. Maybe aside from actual warmth present in such a greeting. Nevertheless it sounded uncannily similar to Ira, as the use of his first, human name immediately set off alarm bells.

Ludwig curtly nodded at the other. "Thank you.” He watched as they placed their hands behind their back, smiling genially at him. Ludwig didn't smile back, as per his nature.

"Your intimate knowledge upon the ins and outs of the Foundation have impressed me. Only a well versed staff member of that organisation, or anyone with access to the security files would have known some of those things you mentioned." They were still smiling, although their probing speech unnerved him immensely. He couldn't tell if such expression was genuine or forced-much to his displeasure.

When Ludwig didn't reply, Arek stepped closer, though still kept an acceptable distance. "My mother mentioned that you worked closely with her upon coordination, among many things." Ah. So a child, not a sibling as he'd presumed. When did the existence of an heir to Ira ever emerge anyways? It's not like personifications sprung up as fully grown functioning adults. This meant the person standing behind them was hidden-and Ludwig was even more wary now at that information.

"I worked with Ira, yes. Is that why you have come here to interrogate me?" He asked in a serious voice, waiting for a reply. Strangely enough, Vanguard looked amused, and let out a light laugh.

"Do you think of me as my mother? Only she would do such thing. The Foundation was archaic to put it lightly. Vanguard isn't like that." They held a jokey tone, though a glint in those firey eyes gave away something of abstract mellowness.

Ludwig coughed to clear his throat, attempting to re-asses how he would approach the kid. "Apologies for my earlier comment."

Arek turned to look out the large, imposing window, down to the traffic of the city in a solemn posture. "It's alright Ludwig. I was just hoping to aim for similar relations between what we represent. Do you mind this afternoon if we'd introduce ourselves to each other? I'd like to hear some of your proposals for integration and cooperation.

Ludwig paused in his wrapping the wires up, face again blushing a brilliant scarlet of the mention of afternoon, and the memory of the other day, of passing the elusive person at the practice.

"I have another urgent appointment this afternoon." He forced himself to not stumble over such embarrassing words, focusing again on packing up in an uncharacteristically messy haste.

Arek merely nodded in acceptance at this, Ludwig hoping they wouldn't question furthur, which they didn't.

Instead when they were leaving, they said a rather peculiar comment.

"Claire's a good one. Good luck for the first session." They replied, grinning, head turned to the side, before shutting the large oak doors behind them, leaving a confused, but pleasantly glowing Ludwig.

-

[cloudinterlude]

howard really fascinates me! specially since i keep trying to match the fun, bubbly 40s howard with the serious, detached howard from the 80s/90s. like what happened that changed him so much??

also the fact that bucky ends up killing him also captivates me cause bucky is steve's best friend, howard even helped him rescue him in the first movie, howard was obsessed with steve.... like his whole life AND death ended up being connected to steve

Same! I mean, of course the grief/mourning/regret/guilt Howard feels over Steve is a large part of his initial descent, but I suspect building and being in SHIELD took a heavy toll. Mildly long post incoming, probably incoherent, probably off topic, and it might end as the most disjointed character analysis I've ever done, but walk with me here 🤝🏿

Howard is such a fractured character. Like, he knows when he's doing something wrong, and he feels a seemingly significant (although hidden) amount of guilt when it goes wrong and he works to rectify it...but he just doesn't stop, especially if the outcome is worth it. He's a very "the ends justify the means" kind of guy I suspect. And there's nothing worse when the ends end up having a horrible outcome and the means were done in vain.

A normal person would say, "Hm, maybe I shouldn't do xyz anymore, or at least not the the degree I've been doing it, if it all ends in shit." Howard goes, "Actually let me keep all my bad ideas as proof of what I can do and shouldn't do and then go experiment more because I know I can do better." And then it doesn't go better and just gets added to a vault. And then, separate from his internal issues, the world around him is shifting too and to bring some stability, he needs to make some sacrifices. Someone needs to get their hands dirty - if not him, then who? And then all that mixed with the ghost of Steve hovering over him, knowing he'd disprove, but Steve isn't here so oh well.

I don't want to paint Howard as an altruist. He isn't, not in the slightest, in fact. All of his motivations are deeply personal and most likely not done for some abstract greater good. I don't think Howard is some kind of heartless monster - actually he decisively isn't heartless judging by MCU canon. He wants to do good (and he has!), but he doesn't let that desire to be good take him away from his desire to be free to do whatever he wants.

I have more to say about him (specifically about his upbringing - the reveal that he came from a poor family and feels compelled to make up for that was huge to me) but I'm losing words rn LOL and nothing else will make sense. I wish there was a voice note feature...I could probably just yap about it....Anyways, yes, Howard is one of my favorite trash gremlin characters.

And you are ALSO so right about not only his life, but his death being wrapped up in Steve too!! And wasn't he also keeping an attempted replica of the serum in his car for transfer? Or did I make that up lol. Either way, fully agree - you kinda blew my mind a little with bringing that to attention.

[goldenlandfiascos]

EP1 THEIR MARRIAGE WAS IN FUCKING SHAMBLES  😭😭😭

dfjvneifdj like, bro, listen, LISTEN. he does not defend her or comfort her or tell her ANYTHING. he leaves her crying in a dark room, he literally just walks away gbnfkdcl; i fucking can't, when he dies, she does not care about his death at ALL, they were going to get divorced.

again, it's just so funny to see how honestly, DRASTICALLY, different their dynamic is from EP1 to EP5. like, you can seriously just tell Natsuhi was originally planned to have an affair, this man was not giving her anything.

(for anyone who's new, i do like them actually (platonically)) but you cannot deny the way the earlier episodes did NOT paint them in a good light with each other.

their communication is soooo bad. it's made even more evident when we see later in the same episode how well Eva and Hideyoshi communicate with each other. also, it's so funny but also extremely telling how Eva even comments about how Natsuhi's excited to try and take the lead

also a little interesting how Eva admits how Natsuhi's "always been treated so coldly". whether she's referring to from Krauss specifically, or in general, including from her, even if she is being kind of rude about it, at least she is actually very aware of it.

it also makes me think of this in EP3 though where Eva  realizes and feels horrible for thinking the same way about Jessica as she herself always was. it just makes me wonder if she ever does actually feel at least a little bit bad for how she treats/views Natsuhi sometimes

like, i honest to god find it kind of hard to believe that when Natsuhi was first married in and their was no animosity between them yet, that Eva didn't ever think like "god, this poor woman having to be married to Niisan"

And i mean that in a genuine she truly felt sorry for her, not a “haha that sucks for her”. Especially since we see the flashback in EP3 with her and Krauss, and Eva hates him so much because of how he treats her just for being a woman. she even says “That’s an insult to all women!” about everything he says to her at the time. I just find it hard to believe she wouldn’t pity the woman who ends up having to marry him (Natsuhi).

Also when she talks to Hideysohi in EP1 about how she actually thinks it’s better that Shannon died, but then immediately calls herself the worst for thinking like that. Eva has a lot of internalized misogyny and treats the women around her just as poorly, but she also deals with a lot of guilt and self-hatred for it, which we only ever really see her voice regret about when alone or with Hideyoshi.

So considering all of that and that she even feels bad about thinking that about Shannon, someone else she’s really incredibly rude to and looks down on, it really does make me wonder if she ever does actually stop and realize she’s treating Natsuhi especially very unfairly at times and even feels guilty about it.

[ackerfics]

levi x reader in anastasia au i've got so many thoughts.......

levi and erwin as dmitry and vlad bc the revolution's got them in a financially disadvantaged position

levi stumbling upon reader singing in the empty ballroom, dancing away to forgotten memories

(it is then and there that he falls for her, but he doesn't believe in love at first sight so he doesn't realise it yet)

erwin chuckling at the banter between levi and reader, keeping track of who's bested who in a notebook like vlad in the movie

levi with the words he can't say lodged in his throat as he watches reader glide down the stairway of the opera house, draped in a dress whose magnificence rivals the night sky

levi and reader having a moment when they realise "it was you all along" like in in a crowd of thousands from the musical

just. levi x reader in anastasia au.

cel, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS <33 i can't help but add little things here and there as well oh my God :<<

levi and erwin as dmitry and vlad is just so perfect. after hearing that there's a huge sum of money being offered if the real princess is found, they had to take that opportunity. with levi's background as a thief and conman and erwin's smooth way of talking people until he convinces them, these two are the best duo to ever exist.

after another day of seeing poor imitations of the real princess, levi finds reader in the old palace of the royal family, twirling in the ballroom with perfect and elegant steps only the nobility teaches to their children. he swears he sees people dancing alongside her, as if the night is meant for a celebration of grandeur and sparkling gowns. the song she's singing, too, is so hauntingly beautiful that levi can't help but feel lured into every word. it's most likely she's searching for a lost memory but it's so out of reach. it's safe to say that levi accidentally finds himself getting enchanted with the unknown young woman doing a one-sided waltz in the ballroom.

and erwin being this little shit who tallies every single point in his little journal. he keeps this page a secret from levi because if his best friend knows about him keeping tabs on their amusing bickering, levi would rip that specific page off, and erwin will start over again. because he's been levi's partner in crime since they were fifteen, he knows that levi's snarky replies are far from irritation (unlike other arguments he had with infuriating people) so erwin concludes that his best friend enjoys the never-ending back and forth internally. erwin is definitely on reader's side the whole time, never tell levi this fact though.

levi finding himself mesmerized with every thing reader does. like how she carries herself like an heiress of a noble fortune. or how she effortlessly executes every lesson erwin assigns to her in preparation for the dowager empress's evaluation. or the way she reminds him of the princess he admires from afar, the princess she's playing for them to get the money from the empress. because of the reminder that they (him and erwin) are somewhat using reader, the budding feelings he once felt for the lost princess die down, replaced by an overwhelming wave of guilt. however, when she smiles at him in that dress erwin makes her wear on the boat to paris, he's officially shrouded in a pink haze. the feelings he suppressed the past days overrules his infatuation for the lost princess.

meanwhile, erwin knows this won't end well as he watches levi and reader dance on the deck of the ship. it's the first time he sees levi with that look on his face. erwin is the one who teases them about their tension but he never expects it will develop this grandly. of course, he supports this but knowing that levi told him that they'll never share the prize money with reader before embarking on this journey, he knows levi is screwed.

can i just say that anya's midnight blue gown is one of the prettiest gowns i've ever seen [screams]. and levi agrees. reader in that breathtaking dress is the show of the night for him. the whole time the opera is unfolding in front of them, levi can't seem to concentrate on the singers expressing their emotions through song. instead, he carefully glances at reader, who's so immersed in the opera that it's safe for him to linger his stare for a moment longer. as if his stare calls for her, reader turns her head to find levi staring at her with the most adoring eyes. she only smiles, which leaves levi in a wide-eyed, blushing mess that she chuckles at. she even tells him that he's being adorable, to which he responds that it's her fault for turning him into this mess.

again, levi, you can't flirt to save your life and please, your feelings are showing, sweetie.

CEL, THAT SONG HOLY SHIT IT'S SO HEART-WRENCHING :<<

after having a nightmare about the mysterious people telling her to remember, reader finds herself in the company of levi. which leads to their revelation that they already fell in love with each other way before any of this happened.

it started with levi telling her a story of his first love, the lost princess, where he's walking along the palace gardens (because his mother is one of the help) and he sees her enjoying her cup of tea in the gazebo. he then encourages reader to fill in the story since he personally believes she's the lost princess (feelings aside -- which is an excuse). it's going well, with reader describing the weather and how she feels hot because of her dress. until she says that there was a boy who offered her a flower from the garden, a boy who's smaller than her yet handed her a carnation with a determined face. she also laughs a little when she adds that the boy then realized he was in front of royalty so he bowed the lowest bow she's ever seen in her life. levi is astounded at this because he never mentions this little detail to anyone but reader easily puts this out there. one can tell from the look in her eyes that she's not just filling in the gaps, she's reliving it the memory or watching it play around her.

then they nearly kiss but levi splashes cold water on himself by going on one knee and saying, "your highness". give this man a break please. he only wants to show reader how much he loves her but no can do.

ah, fated lovers and their love for each other that transcends time.

JUST LEVI X READER IN AN ANASTASIA AU. JUST THEM LOVING EACH OTHER IN THIS UNIVERSE.

[writingwithcolor]

Arab Character Joining Corrupt Superheroes, Police Parallels

Anonymous asked:

I’m writing a story with a Arabian diaspora main character. The story is about corrupt superheroes, and how they affect an oppressed superpowered minority. The main character is one of these superheroes, naively joining them in his teens believing he’s going to help people. Doesn’t help that his parents are having money trouble. Eventually he ends up fighting a superpowered crook, and gets a bystander killed.

1)I know portraying an Arabian character committing violence is a pretty touchy subject, even if accidental. Is there any way I can write this that makes it clear to the reader that the action itself is messed up without the unfortunate implication that Arabs are violent? 

2)A large part of the story is the MC’s parents reaction. They are loving parents, however after this incident happens, they are confused and ashamed. While they still love him, they temporarily cut ties with him. Eventually they reconcile and start to be a family again. In my research (they are diaspora Saudi Arabians), Family is very important and tight-nit. Shame towards the family is to be avoided at all costs. However I’ve also read that disowning a family member rarely ever happens. Is there a way to write this kind of narrative with respect to this aspect of Arabian culture?

Let us begin with some terminology.

- If a person is from Saudi Arabia, they are Saudi Arabian, or more commonly, Saudi. This is their nationality.

- They may or may not be Arab. Arab is an ethnicity. Not all Saudis are Arab. Not all Arabs are Saudi.

- Arabic is a language. Lots of people across the world who are neither Saudi nor Arab speak Arabic.

- Arabian on its own is a word used to refer to a specific breed of horses.

If you are referring to humans, you want to either say "Saudi Arabian" (both words) or “Saudi” to indicate nationality, or "Arab" to indicate ethnicity. If you’re looking to describe your character’s culture, you probably want to call it Saudi culture. (While grammatically correct, talking about “Arab culture” doesn’t make much sense because Arabs are an incredibly diverse ethnic group and there is no such thing as a single monolithic Arab culture).

Now for the first question. In my mind, the issue is less about the character committing violence, and more about the premise of the story and how it mirrors real-life oppressive structures. You have an organized group of superheroes who think they are doing good by fighting “crooks” but in reality are enacting systemic oppression upon a marginalized group. This immediately brings to mind police violence, racial profiling, and the way that policing in North America is used as a tool of white supremacy while glorified in propaganda as a force for good. Essentially, you are telling a story about a character who joins an oppressive policing force, enacts violence upon a marginalized group as a result, and (I’m assuming) eventually realizes that they are not, in fact, the good guys. This is very close to being a “bigoted character learns not to be bigoted” story. I recommend re-examining your premise in light of the real-life parallels and asking yourself whether this is the story you want to tell. 

The issue is compounded by the fact that your character is an Arab teen, who in real life is more likely to be the one facing racial profiling from the police. Taking this character and making him the oppressor in your story makes the already flawed premise even more problematic, especially if the characters in the oppressed group are white.

As for your second question, it seems believable to me that a teen’s parents might reject him if they learned that he committed a crime. However, when the family in question is Arab, you are suddenly feeding into harmful tropes about oppressive and violent Arab parents. You are asking if there is a way to write this respectfully. I believe that there is, but it requires a great deal of care, nuance, and cultural awareness. While it is possible to write a Saudi Arab character grappling with the consequences of violence and familial estrangement in a compelling way, the way your ask is phrased leads me to believe you are not equipped to do it justice. 

- Mod Niki

Think about why Arab people committing violence is a touchy subject, and then think about the general propaganda narrative that came about from the act that made things so touchy. 

It’s going to sound one hell of a lot like what you have here.

Military and police use buckets and buckets of propaganda to continue hooking in young, impressionable teens to commit state-sanctioned colonialism and oppression. That propaganda looks suspiciously like “we have health insurance, we will pay for your education, you just have to do what we tell you even if that means hurting or killing others, but it’s okay because you get to be the hero in the situation.”

Now, propaganda is a very powerful tool. I was taught, in my media classes, that controlling the message means shaping reality. The media is built as a propaganda machine, and when you start to see who owns what media properties you start to see some really disturbing patterns (Rubert Murdoch owns a lot of right-wing sources across America, the UK, and Australia, and he’s too rich to investigate his culpability in spinning terrible narratives found in right-wing publications. He owns the big names).

As Niki said, this situation mirrors police violence and police-sanctioned terrorism. And the very, very unfortunate implications of making the target of police violence be in that wheel. But I want you to look at the media situation that has made the plot happen.

Because even if you swapped out ethnicities, you’d still have a reckoning to do with the American culture that their primary social safety nets involve killing people.

I am not kidding.

Some of the most well-funded unions in the country are police unions. These people have pensions. They have health insurance. It’s damn near impossible to fire them. They get overtime very well mandated, and it’s a known thing among defence lawyers that arrests happen right before a cop’s shift will end so they get the overtime of filing the paperwork. They absolutely go into poor neighbourhoods and recruit based off people needing an escape, and them having the money to provide it.

A similar sentiment is true for the military, except they push for college education a bit more and don’t really have overtime, but they do have deployment bonuses. So the way to get extra pay for yourself is to go out and do colonialism outside the borders. The military doesn’t necessarily like it when the economy is doing well, and don’t like the idea of college being affordable, because they rely so heavily on poverty and fear of college debt to recruit. 

The story you’re telling here goes so far beyond an individual’s actions and instead taps into America’s single biggest cultural investment: that oppressing others makes you a hero. 

The Pentagon funds most military media out there as a propaganda tool, including most superhero movies and a large number of video games. This is in their budget. They will also go so far as to literally commission the games to exist. Part of getting that funding is you cannot critique America’s military, basically at all (the only exception I’ve seen is Ms Marvel, but that’s set in the 90s). This turns any sort of military-using media into a potential propaganda tool.

And the thing is? Even if you fall for that propaganda and were part of the military or the police, you still have to reckon with the fact you put whatever your own desires were above a huge track record of those groups being terrible. You still have to reckon with the fact you didn’t realize they were wrong, and were complicit in a lot of crimes.

This goes very far beyond “the action is terrible” and goes into “the system is rotten to its core, and you chose not to believe it, or to believe you could change what was built with blood.”

“Good” police officers get fired. If you try to question anything, if you try to say this action is wrong, you will absolutely get destroyed. Military’s much the same. You need some degree of buy-in to the concept of white supremacy to sign up for the military or the police, because you need to see their actions as not deal breakers instead of actions that violate multiple international laws. 

In short: you need to see the people being oppressed as deserving of being oppressed to some degree in order to participate with police and the military.

Marginalized people can hold this belief, it happens. But that is a very sticky situation that outsiders shouldn’t touch. 

It’s possible but difficult for you to write a white person having this sort of arc, but it would be extremely challenging to have it not come across as a white guilt story. To not have a socially aware audience roll their eyes at how long it took. You’d definitely not be writing a story with a diverse audience in mind, because you’d mostly appeal to those who saw the propaganda as just fine and not that bad.

This isn’t even getting into the oft-cited adage that boys who bully others become cops, while girls who bully become nurses. And the more police atrocities become mainstream news, the less and less people can convince themselves that becoming a police officer is a good thing.

Which brings me to the point of: how well-documented is this oppression? Is this character walking around in an oppressive situation like, say, pre-social-media where there was no direct access to the oppressed groups and you could close your eyes and look away even if it made national news? Or is this in a media connected world where these oppressed populations have a voice in the narrative?

The former has an angle of the character slowly realizing the horror and it’s slightly more forgivable for their early ignorance. But in any sort of world where there’s access to the people getting hurt? Things get more and more “ignorance is indistinguishable from maliciousness.” And keep in mind, these stories are read in the real world, where police brutality and war crimes go viral, and a lack of knowledge is getting harder and harder to defend as a position.

Media plays a huge role in shaping our perception of what’s happening. Cameras on a situation makes different activism tactics work, as we can see with how activism changed in the 60s and 70s as tv reached the masses. Social media has made it possible for you to look up firsthand accounts of discrimination within seconds. 

This is a factor you are absolutely going to have to consider, when you want to look at how nice your hero is seen by marginalized or otherwise socially-aware people. If there is a way to find out how bad this superhero organization is before you sign a contract with them? Then that doesn’t look particularly good on the “hero”. You’d really have to establish them as super idealistic, super sheltered, super desperate, and/or just swallow the knowledge that they really don’t see anything that happens “over there to those people” as that bad. 

All of the above is more than possible. And they’d still be seen as complicit no matter what justification you gave, because they are.

Does this mean all corrupt organization stories are off limits? No. The reason these stories have such deep cultural resonance right now is because of the propaganda I outlined above. 

But you as the author are going to have to examine your own engagement with the propaganda narrative and do your own private reckoning so your own sense of guilt and compliance doesn’t bleed through the narrative too strongly, so you can tell a good story instead of an overt message story that’s you working out your own feelings.

By all means, write a story where police and the military are taken down, where propaganda is weaponized and the media is controlled (because that’s sure as hell the modern world). 

But know that stories where the hero discovers the corruption already have a ticking clock because we, in the real world, are slowly being faced with a mountain of apathy instead of ignorance. The knowledge of oppression is out there so much that marginalized people are tired of the ignorance defence. 

As the saying goes, “privilege is the ability to ignore the oppression of others.” 

Propaganda, centralized media, and strategic cultural investment made it possible for police and the military to have a chokehold on their public perception. But that’s changing. The chokehold is starting to fade, people are starting to question their beliefs. 

The past year has shown that knowledge isn’t the issue; it’s white supremacy. People don’t want to believe that any of this is that bad. People want to believe that oppression is justified, that if people just followed the law they’d be fine. They don’t want to question themselves. And marginalized people are tired of these narratives where, suddenly, people snap out of it. Because there was so much evidence to show it was bad, but it was only when you do one of the worst crimes imaginable that you realize this is bad? It’s only when it becomes personal that things are worth looking at critically?

No. And you need to examine where you are in processing your own complicity before writing a story where you’ve swapped around the ethnicities to try and distance yourself from the problem, where in the end you made the target the oppressor.

~Mod Lesya

[thatshithurted8]

Could’ve Been

Summary: In which Jeff deals with the repercussions of not acting on his feelings towards reader. 

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: angst, drinking and swear words.

You couldn’t help yourself, but to giggle while you made dinner for Jeff, Jonah and yourself. The sound of your laugh causes Jeff to look up from his barbers station and over to you, a smile appearing on his face at the sound of it. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“Just thinking about yours and Jonah’s bits.” You state. Jeff just finished filming a barbershop episode with Bryce Hall, but by now the crew and Bryce were long gone. 

Jeff smiles to himself as he puts his multiple hair clippers away. Even though you told Jeff and Jonah from the beginning you didn’t want to be in any of the episodes you always found yourself being in them anyway. Whether that be you doing the boys hair for an episode to having your witty remarks and contagious laugh be heard in every video. 

Little did you know though, there was a reason why you were such a consistent guest on the show. This reason being the developing feelings both Jeff and Jonah harbored for you. Despite both boys openly flirting with you in seemingly every episode you were in you still remained oblivious to their feelings. However, as time went on unbeknownst to either Jeff or Jonah you started to reciprocate feelings for Jeff. You loved Jonah, but he was more like a brother to you than anything. 

 As more episodes of you appearing in were published to YouTube it was clear to not only the fans, but to Jeff as well what was happening. Fans constantly pointed out that it was obvious there was a love triangle going on whether it be a bit or not. They concluded this from all of the clips of both boys openly flirting with you along with all of the longing stares they gave you. It made Jeff giddy to know you most likely felt the same way about him the way he felt about you, but he never acted on it. He couldn’t do that to Jonah especially with how obvious it was the boy was in love with you. 

“What’re ya making?” Jeff asks walking into the kitchen and peering over your shoulder after finally cleaning up his station. Jonah looks up from his phone from his spot at the kitchen’s island and he can feel his stomach drop at the proximity of you two. He watches as you pick up the spoon you were using to stir and allowed Jeff to taste the homemade tomato sauce for the spaghetti you were making. 

“Tastes like what my ma makes, maybe even better, but don’t let her know I said that.” Jeff compliments causing heat to rush to your face and ears as he smiles at your reaction. This seemingly wholesome interaction between you two gets cut short by Jonah coughing and standing up. 

“I’m not feeling spaghetti tonight I’m gonna eat out instead.” He says pushing his chair in underneath the island before walking out of his apartment without saying another word. 

You look over at Jeff confused, but he just looks down at the ground not knowing what to say while slowly moving away from you. Jeff knew why Jonah was upset. After all Jonah has told him many times he likes you and Jeff did go a little over board with the flirting with you in today’s episode. 

“That was weird. What was that about?” You ask Jeff as he sits down at the island and pulls his phone out to text Jonah. Jonah loved your cooking and never missed an opportunity to have some. 

Jeff shrugs his shoulders and puts his phone away. “He’s been stressed lately, I don’t know why.” He lies. “We should move up to my apartment he’s gonna probably want to be alone when he gets back.” 

“Poor Jonah, I hope he can relax.” You pout while you turn off the stove to bring the food you were cooking up to Jeff’s. The brunette helps you, but can’t help but to feel guilty at your obliviousness. Jeff loved flirting with you after all his feelings for you were strong, but he felt bad for his best friend. It was obvious you didn’t reciprocate Jonah’s feelings let alone were you aware of them. 

The two of you carefully maneuver up to Jeff’s apartment with kitchen towels underneath the hot pots so neither of you would burn yourselves. As you get back into the groove of cooking again Jeff turns his stereo on, the Beatles echoing throughout the apartment. 

Ever since Jonah seemingly stormed off earlier Jeff has been acting kind of stand offish which you couldn’t help but to notice. However, as each Beatles track played he started to return back to his playful self and your laughs of encouragement egged him on to continue singing along horribly to the music. 

After an intense performance of Jeff playing the air guitar and singing to Helter Skelter Come Together came on, making you squeal. That was your go to song for karaoke night. Jeff smiles at you as you grab a ladle and start to sing into it as if it was a microphone. 

“He got hair down to his knees. He got to be a joker, he just do what he please.” You horribly sing out while slowly moving your hips back and forth while slowly making your way down to your knees in front of Jeff. 

You continue your performance while Jeff tries his hardest to not let his mind wander due to the position you were in. 

“One thing I can tell you, you just got to be free.” You sing getting up fast while shaking your head back and forth to the beat of the song. As you fully immerse yourself into your performance Jeff laughs at you with loving eyes, but he is interrupted from watching when his phone buzzes in his pocket. 

It was a text from Jonah. “You know my feelings towards Y/N the least you can do is not flirt with her around me.” 

Suddenly a wave of guilt washes over Jeff. The moment Jeff met you he could feel the spark between you two and just as he was about to tell Jonah how he was feeling about you he beat Jeff to it and started gushing about you the next time Jonah saw Jeff. This resulted in Jeff never opening up to his best friend to let him know he had feelings for you as well. 

“What’s wrong?” You furrow your eyebrows while watching Jeff sit down at his dinning table with an upset facial expression. 

Jeff quickly sends out an “I’m sorry” text to Jonah before putting his phone away and nervously running his fingers through his hair. “Nothin.” 

Furrowing your eyebrows even more you put down the ladle and make your way over to Jeff, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders from behind. “Seriously what’s up?” 

“Nothin Y/N.” Jeff says standing up abruptly and gently pushing you off of him, causing your heart to drop. 

“Yea okay.” You sassily say back while returning to the stove to cook, the playful mood ruined. There was now an unwanted awkward tension in the air that both you and Jeff felt, but neither of you knew what to say. 

Finally Jeff speaks up, not really wanting to say what he was about to, but he felt like he owed it to Jonah to. “Y/N I think you should give Jonah a shot.” 

You slowly turn around from the stove to look at Jeff with a confused expression etched onto your face. “What?”

“You guys have so much in common and click well. You guys could be a solid couple.” 

Your heart sank initially thinking Jeff didn’t reciprocate your feelings, but the way he was looking everywhere, but you while saying this had you thinking otherwise. “Where is this coming from?” You ask starting to connect the dots and stepping closer to Jeff who doesn’t move away this time. 

He remains silent. 

“Jeff? Does Jonah have feelings for me?” 

Jeff simply nods his head yes as if it was hurting him to say that. He didn’t want you to find out this way. After all, it should be up to Jonah to tell you when he’s ready, but from what Jeff just said he had no choice to tell you.

You let out a sigh. This was not how things were supposed to happen. “I feel bad, but I don’t feel the same for him.” You say inching closer to Jeff. His heartbreaks for Jonah, but he can’t help but selfishly feel hopeful that he may get a chance with you. 

“Do you know who I do have feelings for?” You ask placing your hand on Jeff’s chest while a spike of confidence flows through you. Jeff’s breath catches in his throat when you get closer to him, but he instinctively melts into your touch. 

“Who Y/N?” He stutters out, nervous that you were going to say Todd or some shit. Jeff wasn’t typically a nervous person, but when it came to you and his strong feelings for you he was. 

You roll your eyes at his obliviousness. “You for fuck’s sake. I thought it was obvious.” 

A blush and smile washes over Jeff’s face as he looks down at you, but his smile quickly disappears when he remembers Jonah. Seeing his reaction makes you release an annoyed sigh. Although you were oblivious to Jonah’s feelings and sometimes got in your head about Jeff there was no denying he felt the same for you. You just knew he did. 

“We can’t do this to Jonah.” 

Rolling your eyes you move away from Jeff. The confidence that you had was now annoyance. From the moment you became friends with the two boys you learned that Jonah had a track record of seemingly liking every girl Jeff liked as well. Ultimately causing Jeff to step back so Jonah could have a shot. Yes, Jeff’s being a good friend, but you were sick and tired seeing Jeff’s happiness be put on the line for a guy who wouldn’t do the same for him. 

“I know you feel what I feel. I’ve felt it the moment we met two years ago. For the love of everything good stop denying your feelings and finally own up to them for once! You have let Jonah stop you from being happy for so long now. Advocate for yourself Jeff, be selfish for once in your life cause I know you want this as much as I do!” 

Jeff looks at you with wide eyes. He was happy that you finally confessed your feelings for him, but he didn’t see this outburst coming even though he knows every word you said was true. 

“I can’t Jonah’s my best friend.”

You internally groan, getting even more agitated that Jeff wasn’t seeing what you were seeing. “I understand that, he’s my friend too, but given the opportunity he would push you to the side if that meant he had a shot. I’m not asking you to drop him. I’m asking you to allow yourself to be happy for once.” You say rolling your eyes before turning back to the food cooking on the stove that you seemingly abandoned. 

The tension in the air was now thicker than before and Jeff felt awkward in his own apartment. A few minutes go by and he finally speaks up. “Y/N look at me.” 

You look over at him with an unimpressed expression, but you notice how close he’s gotten to you. Jeff grabs your hand and starts to gently rub his thumb across the back of it. “You’re right. I do have feelings for you.” He says inching closer to you, causing your heart rate to speed up. 

“Then act like it.” You say looking up into his beautiful brown eyes. 

Without hesitating Jeff pulls you to his chest by your hand before smashing his lips against yours and caressing your cheek with his free hand. Automatically you kiss back, placing your hand on the nape of his neck while deepening the kiss. 

You were the first to pull away, but you rest your forehead against his. “Wow.” That was probably the best kiss you’ve ever had. 

Jeff’s cheeks were flushed red and you knew he felt the butterflies from the kiss as well. You two stare into each others eyes seemingly relishing in the moment before guilt begins to wash over Jeff’s face as he realizes what he just did. 

“What?” You ask backing away concerned.

He sighs and scratches at his beard. “I want this as much as you do, but I can’t for Jonah’s sake.” 

You close your eyes and let out a deep breathe at his words, trying your best to control your emotions. He just said the last thing you wanted to hear. Without saying another word you walk by the brunette and to the front door where you put on your shoes and grab your purse. 

“Where are you goin?” 

“I’m sorry Jeff, but I can’t be friends with you especially after that kiss. My feelings are just going to keep growing and there’s no point in torturing myself by being around you when I can’t be yours.” You simply state, hurt evident in your voice before opening the door and leaving Jeff’s apartment without another word. 

As the door shuts the smoke alarm goes off signaling the food you were cooking was burning, which only made Jeff’s heartbroken mood worse.  

- 

“Oh my god Y/N is here! I haven’t seen her in so long!” Zane yells to Jeff over the music before rushing over to you who just arrived to Todd’s birthday party. Ever since that night 8 months ago in Jeff’s apartment you started to distance yourself from Jeff and Jonah along with the Vlog Squad since they were always with either boy. However, you weren’t going to miss Todd’s birthday for the world. After all he was one of your closest friends. 

The moment Jeff’s eyes fall onto your frame while you greet the first few people you know his heart rate began to increase. You looked good. Hell even better than you did 8 months ago if that was possible. 

You made your rounds through the party, saying hi and having conversations with your friends that you haven’t seen in almost a year while the music filled the large house. Although, it was Todd’s birthday you were hesitant to come. After all you knew Jonah was going to be there and more importantly Jeff as well. But today wasn’t about you it was about Todd. With that being said you decided to swallow your pride and show up for one of your best friends. 

However, you tried your best to avoid Jonah and Jeff for the night. Which was working out fine until you ran into Jonah. You guys hugged and caught up and to your surprise Jonah introduces his girlfriend, Francesca to you. Of course you were happy for him, he deserved to be happy, but the two started dating two months after that night at Jeff’s. That meant if you stayed around you and Jeff could’ve been a couple. Yet, you couldn’t help, but to feel hurt. Surely Jeff would’ve jumped on the opportunity to make you his now that Jonah was off the market, but you haven’t heard from the Staten Island stud since a week after what happened. Clearly Jeff’s feelings towards you weren’t as strong as you thought.

As the night continues Jeff builds up enough confidence to approach you. So that’s what he did. Feeling a tap on your shoulder you turn around from your conversation with Todd and are shocked to see Jeff standing in front of you. 

“Oh my gosh Jeff! It’s been so long!” You exclaim before pulling the brunette in for a hug, fighting off the awkward tension. This was seemingly a friendly hug, but as you were in his embrace all of the feelings you thought you didn’t feel anymore came rushing back. Jeff felt the same from the moment he saw you walk in. And the familiar but nostalgic smell of your perfume only amplified it.

“How’ve you been?” He asks pulling away, but laughing at your reaction. You didn’t realize how much you missed his laugh until now.

“I’ve been pretty busy with school, but still good. What about you?” Jeff was happy to hear that you were still in school. After months of Jeff convincing you to chase your dreams you finally applied to a university to become a physiotherapist and got in, putting your influencer career on the back burner. He was proud of you for not giving into your fears of having a late start in your degree and quitting.

“I’ve been good as well. The guys and I have been pumping out barbershop episodes basically every week now.” By now Todd was now gone, talking to his other guests.

Although, both of you were telling the truth of what has been up lately neither of you delved into the fact your minds would always wander back to each other. Especially late at night when neither of you could fall asleep.

“How are ya liking school?” Jeff asks stepping a bit closer for you to hear him due to the loud music.Just as you were about to answer his question you feel arms wrap around your waist and a kiss being placed on your cheek. 

Justin. Not your boyfriend, but not your friend either.

“Hey baby sorry that I’m late.”

As Jeff watched the guy that looks a bit like him display affection to you a pang of jealously and hurt hits him. Clearly your feelings for him weren’t as strong as Jeff thought they were.

You mumble a “hi” back to Justin and discreetly push him off of you. Suddenly you were all too aware of who you were standing in front of with your rebound by your side.

“Who’s this?” Justin asks pointing at Jeff then looking at you.

“Justin this is Jeff, a friend I haven’t seen in a while.” Another pang of hurt hits Jeff at being friendzoned. “And Jeff this is Justin.”

Jeff swallows the lump in his throat and cuts directly to the chase. “So are you guys a couple?”

You almost choke on your drink at Jeff’s boldness, but Justin answers his question before you could cough out a reply. “Nah, not yet man. Y/N wants to take things slow. Something about not wanting to get her hopes up if things turn sour.” Justin laughs. 

Jeff looks at you knowing exactly why you want to take things slow with this guy. You didn’t want to be let down the way you did with Jeff. It was obvious you were still hurt and Jeff’s suspicions of that were proven by your avoidance from his analytical gaze. 

An awkward silence falls upon you guys, but Justin doesn’t seem to acknowledge it as he was vibing out to the music. You and Jeff exchange awkward looks while you anxiously bite on the rim of your solo cup. 

Just as you were to speak up to bid goodbye to Jeff and get away from the tension Erin comes running up to you. “Y/N it’s our song!” She yells, clearly intoxicated. Before you could protest what was about to happen she drags you over to an open spot in the crowded house to dance to Britney Spears, Toxic. Ultimately leaving Justin and Jeff alone. 

As you danced to one of your favourite songs you were grateful that Erin pulled you away because your mind was starting to drift away from Jeff and the way his presence made you feel. The next thing you know the song was over, but you continued to dance with Erin to five other songs while Zane supplied shots for you two. 

While each song passed you were oblivious to Jeff’s eyes on you. Justin was talking his ear off about the mixtape he was working on and quite frankly Jeff couldn’t give less of a shit. Every time Justin asked him a question Jeff would simply respond with vague answers, trying his best to suppress his emotions. 

Seeing you after all of these months apart it made Jeff realize just how much he missed you. There was no denying he missed you from the moment you walked out of his apartment, but ever since then he tried his best to distract himself with creating. And it was working, but that was until now. 

You continued to let loose occasionally glancing over to Jeff’s direction without realizing what you were doing. It wasn’t until you felt arms wrap around your waist that your dance moves come to a stop. You quickly turn around and smile while stumbling into Justin’s arms. 

“Hey baby.” You say while wrapping your arms around Justin’s neck while continuing to sway to the music, the alcohol you drank flooding throughout your blood.

“I’m going to get a drink do you want anything?” 

You simply nod your head as Mariah walks over to catch up with you and Justin walks away to find the kitchen. Your conversation with Mariah was going great until you felt someone place their hands on the small of your back. 

“Excuse me.” 

You turn to look and see the person was Jeff walking past you. He makes eye contact with you and you could’ve sworn time stopped in that moment, making you automatically sober up. His eyes were full of longing as well as hurt. Jeff doesn’t stop to talk to you. Instead he keeps on moving through the crowd of people to leave, your eyes yearning after him.

Your focus on the brunette is ultimately broken when Justin hands you a beer. You shake your head and turn back to your conversation with Mariah and introduce Justin to her. As you do this you miss Jeff turning to look back at you one last time, his heart breaking even more as he watches you grasp onto Justin’s arm while laughing loudly. 

As he walks out of the party Jeff’s mind wanders to what you two could’ve been ultimately hurting himself more at the thought. 

tags: @jeffywittek2020

[melohax]

I’ve seen some people who finished Omori talking about how they don’t understand the game’s plot, what happens in the good ending or why the protagonist even decided to change his ways. So then, here’s my thoughts on Omori’s story.

Warning: SPOILERS AHOY. Only read this if you’ve already finished the game and seen the good or true ending. Or if you don’t plan on playing the game at all but still want to know the whole story.

I’ve seen some people around the internet talk about how Sunny’s character isn’t clear to them or how they feel Sunny doesn’t deserve a good ending. Here’s some thoughts I have on why I think Sunny’s growth was well depicted.

There’s two main routes you can go through in the game: the “Reality” route and the “Hikikomori” route.

In the “Hikikomori” route, Sunny stays in Headspace forever and we get to learn many additional details about him. Sunny’s parents are implied to have known what Sunny did to Mari all along. It’s also implied that Sunny’s mother covered the whole thing up and chose to present it as a suicide as well cus, in her own words, she can’t bear the thought of losing both of her kids.

Sunny’s mother insinuates her son isn’t a “good boy” even though she begs him to be good but she still sees him as her little boy (as seen by the overly-sweet and positive messages she leaves around the house and her voice mails) and needs him alive so she can survive her own grief. Sunny’s father is shown cutting down the hanging tree and telling Sunny he isn’t his son, presumably disowning Sunny. The father keeps being absent forever afterwards.

Fast forward to the present and the “Reality” route, Sunny’s moving in 3 days. He knows his time is up in the real world and the biggest catalyst for his personal growth is that he’s finally seeing his old friends in the REAL world after 4 years of only seeing their loving, idealized child version in dreams. For the first time, he gets to witness the collateral consequences of what he did to Mari in his now teenaged friends: Aubrey spirals into delinquency after feeling like she was thrown aside by everyone she loved. Hero is guilt ridden, can’t even go near Mari’s grave and gives up on his dreams of being a chef. Kel wants to make things better but feels powerless, useless and like a screwup. Basil lives in a miserable state of almost constant fear and psychosis.

Sunny finally gets to see the huge toll his lie took on his friends’ entire lives as they keep blaming themselves for not knowing about Mari’s supposed suicidal ideations. He’s finally forced to face reality and he still tries to hide in dreamworld but he can’t. The inhabitants of Headspace are all people or fictional characters he knows or likes in real life (that he changed in his dreams, like how Kim’s brother is a sweet gentle giant and Sweetheart looks just like the candy shop owner at the supermarket) and their quests end up leading him to events where he’s reminded over and over again his dreams will end soon (the end of the underwater highway, the tree near the whale, the shadows of Mari and Basil) and that he needs to delve into Blackspace.

This shows how his own subconscious mind knows well what needs to be done; he’s putting the mental and emotional effort of making himself face what he’s done, shown through the contrast between the whimsical nature of Headspace and the dark surrealism of Blackspace.

As this happens in Sunny’s psyche, in the real world he can try to “atone” a bit by doing good things for his little community like completing requests people around him have. He still has a lot of trouble being near Basil in the real world but considering his entire subconscious mainly revolves around finding and rescuing Basil, he wants and needs to face Basil sincerely before he runs out of time.

We’re shown through memories that Sunny’s personality was always quiet, wary, a bit distant and very bad at dealing with pressure. Some people even describe him as cowardly or mediocre but he was just a small kid who’s entire world ended when he was 12. Since then, he never left his house, spending most of his days asleep rather than awake. It’s no wonder his personality isn’t as developed as his friends. His friends, although they were also in immense pain, at least still continued to live beyond Mari’s death. Sunny didn’t. He only lived through sleep.

Subconsciously, it’s shown Sunny both loves and hates Basil. This is seen in Blackspace with the dialogue he has with the “strangers” walking in the void. They talk about how Sunny (as Omori) does horrible things to Basil in the darkness of Blackspace because he struggles with facing the truth of his own actions. It’s also revealed through datamine of Blackspace’s metaphorical photo album that Basil, in his attempts to save Sunny from the judgement of others and to get him to come out of catatonia, was the one who come up with the plan to hang Mari.

Sunny describes Mari as looking as if calmly asleep when he drags her up the stairs. Her eyes remained peacefully closed until Sunny and Basil hung her. Then, Sunny turned back to look at Mari’s corpse, her previously closed eyes were wide open. She might have even been still alive, might have opened her eyes during or after the noose was tied to her neck. Or the belief he saw her eyes open could have been a manifestation of Sunny’s guilt, instead.

Either way, the horrifying possibilities surrounding Mari’s death lead to Sunny handling his emotional pain by subconsciously taking it out on Basil. It’s why Basil in Blackspace is shown constantly suffering and dying in many different ways. It’s the only way Sunny has been able to deal with himself; by forcing Basil into the darkest corners of his mind, his perfect colorful dreamworld can’t be ruined by the ugly reality Basil’s mere presence represents. It’s less painful to try to forget Basil and to forever blame him for both of their sins.

Still, even with all these conflicted feelings, Sunny’s tried to come to terms with love he still feels for Basil many times before. The shadows point out how this isn’t the first time he’s tried to save the Flower Boy; how all the previous times before ended in Sunny failing to find redemption and so his mind turns back to torturing the Basil of his dreams instead.

However, one of the Blackspace shadows also mentions a very important detail that changes almost everything this time around: his time is almost up in the real world. Whether this means he’ll commit suicide or move away, it’s almost time for him to leave the friends he’s always loved so much behind.

Sunny is forced to do a lot of internal work and self-reflection in what little time he has left. It’s shown through his dream actions, the surreal imagery surrounding him and the characters with all the sub plots his subconscious makes up.

In the route to the good ending, he traverses Blackspace and manages to listen to every harsh truth Basil’s shadow has to tell him. His attempts to save Basil mean he’s fighting his own mind, forcing himself to accept the truth.

To achieve redemption for his greatest mistake, Sunny needs to start with accepting Basil entirely; he has to stop making Basil take the brunt of their combined regrets. It means being willing to finally face the REAL Basil instead of permanently burying him in the most painful place within Sunny’s mind.

So basically, it’s obvious to me that Sunny is forced out of his “comfortable” hikikomori misery the moment he opens the door to meet the REAL Kel.

Sunny and Basil have a confrontation in the real world. When Sunny entera Basil’s room, we see poor Basil suicidal and at his limit. He’s clearly in the throes of a psychotic episode and at the mercy of hallucinations and delusions he can’t escape from (“There’s no way out of this is there, Sunny?”). Basil attacks you in an attempt to save you by killing the “thing behind you” but as we know, there isn’t actually something behind you.

There was never any monster to take the blame for Basil’s regrets, nor yours. It’s always been just you.

Meanwhile, Sunny is trying his best not to completely lose his shit so he can save Basil and stop him from potentially killing the both of them. Sunny likely loses an eye in the fight, shown by the blood coming from your socket and the bandage over it in the hospital.

Incidentally, the eye you lose is on the same side as the eye that can be seen peeking through the hair of Mari’s face as she’s hanging from the tree.

In the good ending, the song at the end talks about how even after confessing the truth, Sunny is alone once again, so it’s not actually clear if Aubrey, Kel and Hero actually forgave him. I feel like this is deliberately left up to interpretation by the writers. The lyrics then continue on to say Sunny still finds it hard to wake up, still finds himself plagued some days with lingering regret, but that he still tries to take it all one step at a time to carry on living.

With the song’s lyrics in mind, the end scene that shows Basil and Sunny smiling at each other while Mari’s shadow leaves them doesn’t mean they’re completely fine all of a sudden. Whether their friends forgave them or not, they at least finally have the relief of honesty. The burden of their unbearable shared secret is now off their shoulders. It’s finally out in the open, which means they both can now start healing and working to find the redemption Sunny was looking for in Blackspace. It also means they can go back to loving each other again without the crushing pain they both felt in each other’s presence.

I agree that Aubrey and the gang get pretty left out in the good ending, though. I wish there was more of them and their reactions to the truth BUT I think it’s sadly a deliberate choice by the writers to leave their reaction up to the player’s interpretation. This can feel extremely unfulfilling to many people (me included, I hate when authors do that tbh) but also to many others that’s a good thing cus they get to apply their own personal meaning and feelings.

I personally feel like the friends forgiving Sunny and Basil right off the bat would be incredibly unrealistic. I think they would need a lot of time (especially Aubrey) for them to forgive the lie that wrecked their lives for years. Forgiveness isn’t impossible but it would probably come in the form of a slow, difficult, heartbreaking process. Bittersweet.

Redemption isn’t just about forgiveness, anyway.

Even if a person is never forgiven by the people they’ve hurt, they can still find redemption for their actions through doing good for the people around them and the world at large. An example of this is shown through what Sunny can do on his last days in his neighborhood. The gratitude and additional flowers he receives in the hospital from each person he’s helped are proof he can still do good for others even after something as horrible and unforgivable as accidental murder. In a way, it’s proof that his life is still worth living.

But ultimately that’s just my own interpretation of the ending and I understand other people would interpret it all differently. Some see forgiveness as a given in the story while there’s also others who think Sunny doesn’t deserve forgiveness or those who think Sunny is a sociopath/psychopath or that Basil is the true villain of the game. I think this is why the ending was left so open, to favor all the different interpretations people have of it.

ETA: Here’s a different take on Sunny’s parents. This post argues that, despite the initial implications, they actually didn’t know about the attempted coverup. It’s a really good writeup explaining the whys and hows and has me reconsidering that part of the story!

https://www.reddit.com/r/OMORI/comments/kr9nvx/major_spoilers_regarding_sunny_his_parents_and/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf

[nolpat0]

can't quit you | m. barzal

summary: she and mat can't get each other go despite how bad they are for each other

wc: 1,165

warnings: toxic behavior, alludes to sex

The cramped kitchen was dark, moonlight pouring over the dark-stained floorboards and illuminating her figure sitting loosely cross-legged on the floor, the pale lighting making wraith-like shadows flicker across her weary features as her eyes continued gazing harshly at the blank-screened phone resting in the middle of the worn floor. She was debating, being yanked back and forth from her two options so wildly her stomach clenched painfully, tightening and coiling as she failed to be broken from her anguished reverie. A frightened whimper escaped her bitten, blood-stained lips, tongue darting out to taste the metallic flavor of her own blood, as the phone screen lit up with a ring. It was him. She began shaking her head ever so slightly, sharp, melancholic hatred aimed at him flaring through her veins as the phone continued its insistent ring, making her finally choose the lesser of two evils instead of letting sleep take over at 3am on her kitchen floor, salty tears clinging her to flushed cheeks. There was always that option- even now- but now the idea of picking up the call, answering the phone, and hearing the soothing lilt of his words was too tempting. Who wanted to pass out on their kitchen floor crying anyway?

"Hey,"

Every ounce of hatred left her pores, dripping away and leaving her shaking form clean and fresh with a new wave of guilt and satisfaction. The two emotions warred inside her, rising to a dull ache in the base of her skull as her cracked fingernails dug into the plastic of the phone case as she held it to her ear.

"Mat," She answered quietly, the syllable rolling off her tongue, unbidden and a horribly natural habit she'd somehow picked up over the course of his midnight calls. Her wet lashes hit her cheek as she squeezed her blood-shot eyes tightly at the memory of the endless stretch of similar calls he'd tortured her with. Of course, he called; she kept picking up. Even when she really, truly shouldn't have.

On the other line, the crackle of her voice through the small speaker of his phone had the muscles of his mouth twitching to the side in a triumphant grin that shone in the light of the bright phone screen in front of him. His long fingers held the device away from him, letting his coffee-colored eyes roam over the font of her contact and the changing numbers of the duration of their call until he had it committed to memory. He liked the way her small voice echoed through his cold, darkened room in the dead of night when he put her on speaker. Despite himself, Mat liked hearing each crack of her words, as if the syllables were breaking apart along with her will. It became a game to him; the boy relishing every tilt of her unique voice crowding his room as he guessed what word her throat would choke on, and which sentences she pushed past her pretty lips would have her falling apart. When she would break. So he continued curling his lungs around the air meant to breathe life into his meaningless words, trying to drag out her inevitable downfall before he'd have to pick up her pieces.

In the lackluster light of her cold-tiled kitchen, the girl bit back the hiccup of her cries as she clung to every hollow word he gave to her. She knew of his sickening glee over her impending sobs and knew how much he liked the emotion he inspired in her battered heart. The enjoyment originally came from a well-meaning place, the boy in awe of the positive, in-love feelings he gave to her. Too quickly, their love had wilted like a flower cut from its stem, and he was left with the game of how hard he could bend her before she broke in his hands. But it took two to play their catastrophic game of dying love and her games were just as horrible as his.

Fingertips pressed against the faded tile of her kitchen, she curled into herself, back curving as her ribs shook with skillfully internalized sobs. She wondered offhandedly if he could tell she was crying from the unsteady pacing of her shallow breath through the buzz of the poor connection. Her white-knuckled hands shook with familiar desperation; an ache for him and the weight of his arm fitted above the jut of her hipbones as the ends of his dark curls brushed her heavily flushed cheeks, the whistle of his breath soft against the shell of her ear. It was a familiar ache, a feeling that nestled into the junction of her bones and follow every painful midnight call and tears pooling on the kitchen floor.

"I need you here, Mat." She whispered, the feeling of loneliness so overwhelming and ghastly terrifying that she folded to its influence, eyes shuttered closed as she pleads for him. "Can you come over?"

It was always can and never please because can gave him the opportunity to walk away, finalize their disastrous end with a broken promise that he'd arrive at her door but instead left her in the shaking mess of herself, gasping as the morning sun finally rose and told her to get herself together. It meant they could finally let each other go, and they could move away from whatever shreds of their relationship they had left, feet swiftly moving them throughout their life so that in time, they could look back and silently thank the day he broke his final promise.

"I'll be there in ten."

Ten minutes. Mat had ten minutes to pull on his shoes, unlock his car and navigate the midnight streets like he didn't already know the route by heart. She had ten minutes to pick herself off the floor, wash her mascara-stained face and pick whatever color she thought he'd like that night. But he also had ten minutes to stall at a red light, finger drumming against the leather and decide against this, putting his car into reverse as he pulled out of her apartment parking lot. She had ten minutes to stare at her dulled eyes in the mirror, order a new lock, and text Mat to lose his spare key before blocking the eleven-digit number from her phone. They had six hundred seconds to make their decisions, to war with their heart and head, to understand that the feeling tucked between their heart and sternum was no longer love, but the terrifyingly real fear of being alone. But perhaps they already realized this and figured this cruel routine was better than having a cold bed.

In the end, six hundred seconds weren't enough for either of them. Mat pulled the silver key from his pocket, feeling the familiar ridges as he understood its metaphorical meaning. Guilt stabbed at his heart, but nothing stopped him as he pressed the key into the lock.

Only to find the door already opened.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Lie to Me

Prompts: Post Pof: Janus is not doing ok, everday he can taste Roman's lies, he can feel Roman's pain. He can feel the ego crumbling. Guilt plagues him as hes done the opposite of protecting the ego. Hey uh... could you write a fic when you have the time? - meltheromanstan

Roman is having issues trying to keep up his facade (and maybe struggling with his work cause ADHD makes everything difficult on top of everything because I love the idea of the twins having ADHD) and he is one bump in the road away from a full on meltdown. And Janus realizes a lie in a conversation that’s concerning and at some point in Roman begrudgingly gives a self deprecating reason and Janus is like heck no and Roman’s like why not and Janus is like because i care? And then Roman breaks down because no one has told him anything like that in a long time. Sorry that’s so long. You can write this whenever, or never if you don’t wanna. Anygay, bye and thank you! - anon

Thank you for the requests! oh this poor man. roman i'm so sorry you didn't do anything to deserve this and here I am hurting you. I'm so sorry bb you need to be wrapped up with a hot chocolate and sat far away from everything.

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-hatred, self-doubt, poor roman’s got so much internalized hatred this poor man, some things that can be interpreted as self-harm but nothing explicit

Pairings: main focus on roceit but it can be platonic or romantic you decide, background LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR

Word Count: 10,554

Janus hears every single lie in the Mindscape. It doesn't matter whether or not the liar believes it to be true or knows it's a falsehood; if it isn't true, he hears it.

Roman lies. A lot.

Or: 5 times Janus had to hide that he was taking care of Roman, and 1 time he didn't.

1. 

They never gave Roman enough credit for how good of an actor he can be.

 The wedding is an absolute dumpster fire. The aftermath is a nuclear explosion. Roman sinks out in silence, long before the video is over. Virgil never shows up, neither does Remus. Logan is cut off before he can realize it.

 Well, that’s not true.

 Janus cuts Logan off before he can realize it.

 Because he didn’t care about them, no. Patton has the most influence over Thomas. Patton is the one who influences the other Sides more than they realize most of the time. And Patton is the one who needed to listen.

 So it didn’t matter that the others weren’t there when Janus had to talk to Patton and Thomas, because it worked. Thomas listened, Patton finally understood, and things could start getting better.

 …or so he thought.

 In fairness, the others came around…fairly quickly. He approached Logan with a book on philosophy and an apology on his lips, only to be swept up into a conversation that had drawn both Patton and Virgil into the living room by the end of the day. It felt…well, right isn’t the correct word, but…warm, perhaps. Yes, let’s go with warm.

 Of course, Remus belly-flopping onto the couch—and the rest of them—near the end was certainly an additional factor.

 But Roman…

 Janus didn’t expect Roman to forgive him. Certainly not quickly. He certainly expected Roman to forgive the others for whatever little parts they played in harming the prince’s precious ego. And he absolutely expected the prince to admit that he was wrong, that it was indeed his fault that everything had gone so spectacularly wrong.

 The first time Roman walks into the kitchen after the wedding, Janus flinches.

 Virgil notices and all but jumps in front of him, snarling a ‘what do you want?’ in Roman’s direction. Patton had turned around and his smile had frozen, staring at Roman.

 “Hello, Roman,” Logan says cooly, “may we help you?”

 “Yeesh, aren’t you lot jumpy this morning?” Roman shakes his head and sighs dramatically. “I am not here to grace you all with my glorious presence, simply to grab a little food and depart on a quest!”

 “Thank god,” Virgil mutters, too low for Roman to hear.

 He pushes Janus behind him as Roman waltzes into the kitchen to take something out of the cupboard.

 “…when will you be back,” Patton asks warily, “and where are you going?”

 “Into the Imagination, my dear Padre!” Roman spreads his arms wide. “To see where the spirit of adventure takes me!”

 “That answers only one of the questions.” Logan closes his notebook sharply.

 “Time is a social construct,” Roman says airily, “but I suppose I shall try to return for dinner?”

 “Don’t force yourself,” Virgil snarks, crossing his arms, “looks hard enough already.”

 Roman just laughs and leaves.

 “Goodness,” Patton mumbles, leaning on the counter, “I didn’t expect him to be so—so—“

 “Roman?” Virgil rolls his eyes. “Princey’s got a head bigger than a fucking balloon—“

 “Language.”

 “—and he’s not gonna come down to earth for anything.”

 “Roman is—or can be—remarkably immature when it comes to admitting his mistakes,” Logan adds, “it’s not to be completely unexpected that he is still in denial.”

 Patton sighs. “I know, I just…expected better.”

 “Don’t hold your breath,” Virgil huffs, “what about you, Janus? Are you hurt?”

 “I also noticed you flinch,” Logan says, standing, “are you alright? Did Roman…”

 “He didn’t hurt you, did he, kiddo?”

 No. No, Janus is absolutely fine right now.

 The instant Roman had appeared in the doorway, the lies slammed into Janus.

  They hate you, they never want to see you again.

  Everything is your fault.

  Virgil is right to try and shield Janus from you, you were so fucking cruel to him.

  They don’t deserve to be burdened with you.

  Leave. Leave so they never have to put up with you. You know they don’t want you.

  They’ve never wanted you.

 And yet, as clearly as he heard those lies, he heard Roman, the blustery, pompous Prince, loud as ever, spoiled as ever. He saw Roman, the swaggering adventurer, the cocky Creativity who was always right, always the center of attention.

 The actor.

 Janus had definitely given him enough credit for that.

 “Janus?”

 Right, they’re still waiting for an answer.

 “I’m fine,” he says, a beat too late, “just caught off guard, that’s all.”

 Virgil eyes him suspiciously. “You’re lying.”

 “Well of course I am,” Janus sighs, rolling his eyes, “it’s not like Deceit is one of my primary functions, after all.”

 “Kiddo,” Patton says, “you know you can tell us if Roman—if someone hurts you, right?”

 Something pinches just under his chin. “I know.”

 “…so?”

 He shakes his head. “Roman hasn’t hurt me, nor has he threatened to.”

 Virgil bumps his shoulder. “Just…keep us in the loop, okay?”

 “Because it’s very likely that Roman will hurt me.”

 The others chuckle or brush it off. Of course, they did. When they aren’t paying attention, Janus lets his gaze trail up the stairs, following the line where the prince vanished. The others have never paid much attention to when Roman returns from his ‘quests.’

 Janus does.

 Even if Janus weren’t consciously coming to the prince’s aid, he’s certain he’d be summoned regardless.

 He waits, quiet in the shadows, for the telltale squeak of the lower hinge on the red wardrobe door in Roman’s room. He’s learned to keep still, keep quiet, not yet fully materialized, watching as Roman stumbles back through the door, one of his arms sagging in relief as the other holds him up. The door creaks shut and a shuddering breath leaves the prince’s chest.

 His head bows.

 Before the charade completely falls away, Roman pushes himself up and starts getting ready to sleep. His sash, normally laid so carefully over the back of his chair, is given barely a second thought as he throws his costume onto the floor. Janus winces at the slam of the bathroom door and again at the way Roman all but collapses into the bed with a miserable expression on his face. He doesn’t need to pry away the pillow to know that Roman is desperate.

  Stupid, stupid, worthless prince.

  Not even a fucking prince, not even the fucking squire.

  Useless, can’t even do your fucking job.

  Can’t even stop feeling fucking sorry for yourself even though you know damn well you don’t deserve it.

  You don’t deserve anything.

 Janus grits his teeth and waits. Waits for Roman’s lies to grow less vitriolic, more sluggish, waits for Roman’s breathing to even out, sagging against the pillow, before he moves.

 His footsteps are silent as he crosses the room, keeping a wary eye on the door, lest someone else knock and wake up the now sleeping prince. He swallows, leaning down, his lips barely brushing the curve of Roman’s ear.

 He doesn’t touch, doesn’t want to risk waking him now.

 “You’re not stupid, Roman,” he whispers, barely loud enough to be heard, even by himself. “You’re not worthless, you’ve never been worthless.”

 Roman shifts in his sleep. Janus freezes. He stills and he breathes out. Bends just a little closer.

 “And you deserve to know that.”

 Even if he can only even whisper it when Roman is too deep in sleep to hear him.

 2. 

The lies don’t stop. They just get worse.

 Fortunately, Janus’s powers aren’t limited by the physical space, not when the lies are particularly pervasive. For example, every time Logan insists that he doesn’t have feelings, or Virgil insists he doesn’t care about the others, or Patton says—particularly passionately—that everything’s fine, Janus hears it. These ones typically merit a scoff and a roll of the eyes, or a quip if he’s actually in the same room. These ones he’s used to.

 Here’s the thing about the lies that Janus can hear; it doesn’t matter whether or not they’re lies that someone knows is a lie or whether it’s something they believe. If it isn’t true, Janus will hear it.

 Case in point: Roman’s lies, and the lies that took Janus far too long to figure out were lies.

 When he decides to tune into Roman’s mind, he’s normally greeted with statements lauding about how amazing the prince is, how he’s the best Side, how much he loves himself. Even when he’s not paying particular attention to Roman, he can hear those sentiments loud and clear.

 The issue with that? He can hear them loud and clear.

 Now, is it likely that these are things that Roman believes that aren’t true? The possibility exists.

 Is it more likely, given recent…developments, that these are things that Roman has known aren’t true, and is intentionally thinking them in order to keep playing a role?

 No, of course not, why would you ever think that?

 They won’t go away. He can barely look at Roman now, can’t stop seeing, hearing all the lies he tells himself every day. The others are starting to worry, growing colder towards Roman, concerned about how much Janus tries to put distance between them. Virgil keeps shoving himself in between the two of them, Logan keeps pulling Janus into long conversations that Roman wouldn’t dare insert himself into, Patton makes sure the two of them are never alone.

 Well, almost never alone.

 The lies are the worst at night. When Roman is in his room, curled up under the covers, his head buried in his hands, they roam freely, coloring the red curtains with shadows, smearing themselves over his paintings, his drawings, his writing, his keyboard.

  They’re right to be scared of you, right to hate you.

  You don’t deserve their forgiveness, especially when you haven’t even apologized for the amount of things you’ve done wrong.

  And you’re selfish enough to want a fucking apology from them?

 Janus, waiting in the corner for Roman to fall asleep, winces, the strength and magnitude of the lie filling his mouth with bitterness.

 Does he deserve an apology from Roman? Yes, perhaps, that would be nice. Laughing at his name in a moment of vulnerability was…perhaps not ideal.

 But the idea that Roman doesn’t deserve an apology? From any of them?

 Roman, the only one who consistently defers and gives and tries and hopes for them, the one who works nonstop to make sure they have something, anything to do, for Thomas, for each other, the only one who’s called out to apologize to them, who apologizes to them when he realizes he’s done something wrong?

 Roman deserves an apology. If only to make up for the amount of times he’s been blamed for something that someone else started.

 A noise.

 Janus blinks, coming back to the present as Roman stirs. For a moment, he worries that the prince has woken up, that he’s discovered someone else in his room, only for a trail of sluggish lies to funnel into his mind.

  Janus hates you more than anyone else and he’s right to.

  You hurt Janus on purpose.

  You never stop hurting Janus.

  You will always be someone he can use, a puppet, until you are nothing more than an obstacle.

 Before he can stop himself, he’s striding across the room to murmur in Roman’s ear again, chest aching with the weight of the lies.

 “The others,” he murmurs, flooding the words with as much sincerity as he can, “they don’t know what I can hear, what they have never noticed, and that is what hurts me, my prince, that you are so quiet and so brave that you can convince the world that you’re not suffering.”

 Roman clutches his pillow a little tighter.

 “I don’t hate you, my prince, I know you didn’t mean to hurt me like that, and I know—“ he takes a deep breath— “I know that the hurt you caused me is nothing compared to what I have done to you.”

 He closes his eyes and feels the guilt well up in his chest. He knows he can’t say the full apology that Roman needs—that he deserves right now. He can’t even begin to imagine all the little things he hasn’t even realized he’s done to Roman, how many things he’s done that he’s forgotten that were just another Tuesday to him, but rewrote entire chapters of Roman’s life.

 He can’t begin to imagine how much of this could’ve been stopped if only he’d realized just how hurt Roman has always been.

 “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m sorry that I never realized how far I let this get.”

 3. 

Roman is touch-starved, he realized, horrified one day when he walks into the living room to see Logan and Patton sitting on the couch, Virgil sprawled across their laps, and Roman in the corner, far away from everyone else, hiding such a look of heartbreak that Janus almost stops in the doorway as Remus brushes past him.

 “Hey!” Virgil splutters when Remus lies down on top of him.

 “Remus!” Patton pushes lightly at him. “You’re going to squish Virgil!”

 “He’s durable, he’s used to it.”

 Logan raises his eyebrows, looking to Janus for confirmation. Janus sighs.

 “I can remember every single time I’ve walked into our living room to see the two of them on the couch,” he says dryly, “and I’m certain that all of them have started with Remus asking Virgil’s permission to lie on top of him for hours.”

 “See?” Remus wraps his arms around Virgil. “He’s fine.”

 “Yeah, yeah, Pat and L’s knees won’t be though.”

 “Ooh! Did you know that some people have a third bone in their knee?”

 “I would be more than happy to follow this train of conversation,” Logan mutters, “if you were to get off my lap.”

 “Fine.”

 Janus shakes his head again as Remus clambers off, landing cross-legged next to Logan on the couch and immediately info-dumping. Virgil sighs and scoots, laying his head in Patton’s lap and going back to his phone. Patton runs his hand through Virgil’s hair and wiggles his free hand at Janus.

 “Come on, there’s plenty of room.”

 Remus snorts, interrupting his tirade long enough to say: “Jan-Jan’s not a cuddler,” before going back to talking about…something to do with knees. Patton frowns.

 “What?”

 “’S true.” Virgil peers up at him. “He’ll hug you if you ask for it but he’s not big on cuddling.”

 “O-oh.”

 “He should still come sit with us, though,” Virgil says quickly, shooting Janus a very subtle look, “so get over here, J.”

 Janus sits, pulling out his book and opening it. After a few seconds, Patton looks away, and Virgil tunes out again.

 Good.

 The lies were getting a little too hard to stand.

 Here, behind his book, he can shift his attention to Roman, scribbling in his notebook and looking every bit the creative genius at work, dead to the world, couldn’t give less interest as to what’s going on around him.

 As he said, Roman is a fantastic actor.

 This time, it’s not even that the words are the thing hurting him now. No, these lies are the type he’s more used to, someone frantically muttering the same thing to themselves over and over and over, trying to convince themselves it’s true. The problem is what’s being carried with the lies, and how deep this need must run in order for it to make it to Janus.

  I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it.

 Roman’s hand is trembling a little on his pen as his brow furrows, eyes skating back and forth over the page. The ache starts just under his chin, right where it meets his throat, and surges, rushing through his arms to the very tips of his fingers. All of them, even the hidden ones. His gloves twitch on the pages of the book.

 He’s so cold.

  I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it.

 The words start to blur together. It hurts. His arms ache. He risks looking more openly at Roman only for him to notice, looking back and quirking an eyebrow.

 “Something wrong, Deceit?”

 “He has a name,” Virgil growls.

 “Janus,” Roman amends, shooting Virgil a glance, “is there something wrong?”

 “Why’re you over there?”

 He meant to ask why Roman wasn’t sitting with the other Sides. He meant to ask whether Roman chose to sit by himself and starve himself of physical contact or if the others had cut him off. He meant to ask if Roman wanted to come to sit with the rest of them.

 Instead, Roman smiles.

 “You’re right. It’s getting quite late. I must be off!”

 Before Janus can say anything, Roman assumes his dramatic pose and sinks out, cheerily declaring his farewells.

 Next to him, Patton lets out a shaky breath.

 “Goodness.”

 Logan adjusts his glasses. “Quite.”

 “Thanks, Janus,” Virgil mutters, making himself more comfortable, “I thought he’d never leave.”

 No.

 No, no, no, this is all wrong.

 “Why did you want him to leave?”

 Virgil shrugs. “It’s harder when he’s here.”

 “Harder how?”

 “We do not know how to act around Roman,” Logan admits, fixing his tie, “he’s not—well, he seems content to behave as if nothing is wrong, and…”

 “It’s not,” Patton says softly. He fiddles with his hands. “We can’t go back to the way it was before, and Roman…Roman doesn’t seem to know how to move on.”

 Virgil snorts. “Not that he seems to care enough to try.”

 Well, if the lies still plaguing Roman’s thoughts are any indication…

  Why would they want to touch you? You ruin everything you touch, haven’t you ruined enough already? Haven’t you ruined them enough already?

  They’re done trying with you. They hate you. It’s a wonder they only realize it now.

  Broken, useless, toxic prince. Finally left out in the cold where you deserve to be.

 Roman curls up under his thin sheet, the heavy blankets put away for the colder seasons too far away and too close to Patton’s room for him to get them safely. Janus watches as he twitches miserably, curling up tighter, turning over, hugging his pillow to his chest, trying, trying to feel warm. Every now and then there’s a quiet noise, quickly stifled. His arms start to ache again, not just from the cold, but from how much Roman seems to believe that no one wants to touch him.

 He makes up his mind.

 He sinks out to his room, quickly grabbing one of his weighted blankets from his own storage. Returning to Roman’s room, he waits with bated breath until Roman’s chest rises and falls at a steady rate before carefully creeping forward and spreading the blanket over the prince.

 “Don’t make yourself cold,” he murmurs, tucking it into place, “stay warm for me, my prince, stay warm, it’s alright.”

 Roman shifts, turning his head so it accidentally brushes Janus’s hand.

 Janus freezes.

 Roman hums slightly and falls back asleep. Shaking, Janus moves his fingers, letting them card through Roman’s hair. The prince mumbles and doesn’t wake.

 He does it again, firmer this time. Roman all but melts under this, just this, just a proper blanket over him and someone running their fingers through his hair.

 “Oh, Roman,” Janus murmurs, unable to resist cupping Roman’s face in his hand, “you’re don’t ruin everything you touch, far from it.”

 He cups the back of Roman’s head, guiding it to a more comfortable angle.

 “On the contrary,” he whispers, “you make us better.”

 And maybe…maybe he can try and provide a little of what Roman needs. Even if they have to be stolen moments, felt only on the very edges of sleep, when Roman is conscious enough to remember them but not lucid enough to lie and say he doesn’t deserve it.

 4. 

The time when Roman barely managed to stumble through the door in his room before passing out is the only time Janus seriously considers calling the others to help.

 But no, he reminds himself as he rushes to the prince’s side, they would want to wake him up, to scold him, to figure out exactly what he thought he was doing, whether or not he’s considered whether this is hurting Thomas.

 Janus bites back a growl as he starts examining the prince.

 Perhaps if they were so concerned about whether or not hurting Roman hurts Thomas, they’d be more considerate about what they say to him.

 He pushes that away for now, more focused on getting Roman’s tight collar away from his neck and checking the state of his bruises. From what he can see from the dirt on the costume, he’s fallen, from quite a significant height, and who knows what else might be hiding under here?

 “I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he looks around for something to help, “but I may have to peel you out of these.”

 Sure enough, he can get most of the costume top off fairly easily—and gains a newfound respect for how difficult it must be to put the thing on by himself, there are so many buttons—but the undershirt proves more difficult, especially as it seems to be stuck in places that it should not be stuck in.

 …oh.

 Oh, no.

 Janus bites back a curse and moves quickly. One arm reaches for the first aid kit he knows is in the bathroom, one arm grabs a pillow and stuffs it under Roman’s head, two gently move his arms up and over his head, and two carefully, carefully take the edge of the undershirt and beginning to take it off.

 He presses a gauze pad to the wound over Roman’s hip.

 He holds an ice pack to the swollen lump on his rib cage.

 He checks over the wound on his chest.

 He tilts Roman’s head from side to side to see how far up the bruises go.

 The pants have to come next and Janus grits his teeth, running his hand over Roman’s forehead as an apology before he shucks the article of clothing.

 More bruises. So many bruises. Thankfully no more bleeding wounds.

 He lets out a breath and sits back on his haunches, staring down at the injured prince.

 The best thing about it, he decides, is that there’s no way for Roman to know that he would’ve been safe passing out and not taking care of any of these.

 The wound on his hip has all but stopped bleeding as Janus tends to it carefully, wiping away the blood and soothing the angry skin with a balm, covering the whole thing with a bandage. The mark on his chest isn’t as bad as it looks, bits of dead skin that Janus clears away and brushes off Roman’s torso. The antiseptic makes him hiss a little and he rubs soothing circles into his tummy until he resettles, murmuring that he’s doing so well, he’s almost done, they’ll get him into bed and he can rest.

 None of the bruises on his legs are bad enough to merit bruise cream, let alone keeping the poor thing from his bed for a moment longer. Instead, Janus quickly covers the one on his ribs and lifts the prince into his arms.

 Roman jolts.

 “Shh, shh,” Janus murmurs, stroking a free hand through his hair, “shh, shh, shh…”

 Roman shushes, just in time for Janus to lie him down and tuck him in, one hand still in his hair as he sits on the edge of the bed. A furrow grows between his brows.

  Should’ve gotten hurt worse.

 Janus freezes.

  Should’ve let them hit you more.

  Got off too easy.

  It should hurt more. You deserve it. Maybe if you pay enough it’ll get better.

 “No, sweetie,” Janus whispers, reaching out before he can stop himself and cradling Roman’s sleeping head in his hands, “no, no, no, don’t ever believe that we want to see you hurt.”

  Shouldn’t have come back.

  Shouldn’t be a burden.

  At least none of the others know about it, they would only complain and ignore you. Useless, worthless prince.

 “You’re not worthless, sweetie,” Janus promises, still cradling the poor thing’s head, running his fingers through his hair to keep him lulled and asleep, “shh, now, everything’s alright, hush now…”

 As the lies drift off into nothingness, Roman along with them, Janus’s face falls.

 Roman is the protector. The prince that will always put himself between them and whatever dared to try and hurt them. He’s not meant to fight a war on two fronts.

  Who protects the protector?

 “I will, sweetie,” Janus whispers, so, so quietly as he tidies up Roman’s room and gives the sleeping prince one last pat, “I’ll look after you.”

 5. 

Roman, perhaps more than any of the others, is essential to Thomas’s mental help.

 Roman is Thomas’s hopes and dreams, the things he wants above all else, the things he strives for, the things he desires. He reaches and reaches and reaches for Thomas, holds every single one of his wants close to his chest, and keeps them safe until they can bubble up into reality.

 Roman is romance, the reason Patton gets all fluttery and bubbly inside. He’s the suave, fabulous, gay disaster that encourages Thomas to be happy, to reach for who he wants, for who he desires.

 Roman is creativity, the livelihood that Thomas has chosen. He works nonstop, tirelessly producing idea after idea for Thomas to film, to write, to create, so Thomas can live and be proud of what he’s doing.

 Roman is the Ego.

 What is the Ego, you may ask? Well, although Freud is largely considered bullshit by modern psychologists—or at the very least, upsetting due to the fact that his research was largely corrupted by the rich men funding it—there are certain aspects of his work that remain in the public mind.

 Simply put, the Ego is the conscious mind. It is the sum of your thoughts, beliefs, and habits as they interact with your physical body. The tether that stretches into your awareness and consciousness and into your physical form. It is a combination of body-thoughts-feelings and the consciousness taken to activate it.

 The Ego gives you a sense of self-worth. It is a mask, one you put on and play as a role.

 Everyone and anyone, it seems, has been warned about the dangers of an out-of-control Ego. Overconfident, hubristic, arrogant, with no regard for others. A vapid complainer, sustained by the power of approval hoarded selfishly. You are encouraged, if not instructed outright, to learn how to live without paying any attention to your Ego.

 Here’s what they don’t tell you.

 The Ego is what you think of yourself. It gives you self-worth because that’s its job. To make you feel secure in who you are. It is sustained by approval because it lives in fear. It itself puts on a mask of strength, of imperviousness, that it is indestructible, because it is soft, malleable, and so very afraid.

 It is true that the Ego is nourished by positive comments, because it isn’t a crime to feel good, or to feel proud, or to want to be validated. It is true that the Ego sometimes reaches too high, only to fall, because that is its nature, to want, and to hope.

 They don’t tell you that when you turn your hatred inwards, your Ego doesn’t just bruise, it crumbles.

 So when Logan constantly tells Roman that they can’t do something, or it isn’t a worthy use of their time, despite his best intentions, he’s not doing much other than snatching Roman’s dreams away. Roman learns not to ignore Logan, yes, but at the expense of constantly being told that it is his fault when Thomas feels crushed, never mind that Roman is crushed, too.

 So when Virgil insults and belittles his worth, tells him he’s stupid and unimportant, despite the fact that Roman will snipe back at him, all he does is reinforce the idea that Roman is the only one at fault, that Virgil is allowed to sit and insult him to his heart’s content while Roman has to apologize for standing up for himself. Roman learns to stand quietly while Virgil tells Thomas he’s a disappointment until the time comes where he believes it’s true.

 So when Patton decides that Roman is bad, after how much Roman has sacrificed for Patton, to do what would make Patton happy, Thomas happy, when all he needs is just someone on his side, something, anything, Roman has to stand there, alone, hurt, angry, upset, and be told that he’s wrong. Roman learns that he’s only here to give, not to receive, that no one will hold him when he falls apart.

 So when Remus starts to show up, more and more, less and less restrained, no one puts it together that Roman literally does not have the strength to hold him back. Roman learns that the others don’t realize how little confidence he already has, only that their approval of him is directly proportional to how much they hate his brother.

 So when Janus decides that Thomas needs to take better care of himself and that the only one he needs to focus on is Patton, Roman is the perfect tool, the perfect puppet, to be used and tossed aside when he no longer needs him, because it’s so easy to twist and turn the little prince so he dances in just the right way, never mind how much it hurts. Roman learns that no one ever cared about him, not really, and perhaps they never will.

 As you might be able to imagine, destroying the thing that gives one self-worth is absolutely the best way to go about things.

 Can any of you guess where the blame gets pushed when Thomas’s mental health suddenly plummets?

 It’s definitely where it should be.

 The thing that scares Janus the most about how that meeting goes is how resigned Roman is.

 His hands are folded neatly behind his back. His face is politely blank. His mind is quiet.

 When there’s a break in the conversation—if you could even call it that—he opens his mouth.

 “What would you like me to do?”

 “Have you not been listening?” Logan adjusts his glasses. “To…anything we have said?”

 “Of fucking course he hasn’t,” Virgil grumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets.

 “Kiddo,” Patton admonishes, crossing his arms, “Thomas hasn’t had any ideas or dreams lately and it’s stressing him out.”

 “Which means you need to get out of the pity party and back to reality with the rest of us,” Virgil adds.

 “Which means,” Logan sighs, crossing his arms too, “you are going to have to start talking to us again.”

 Roman looks between them. “Are we not…talking now?”

 “He means actually interacting with us, Princey.”

 “Have I…not been doing that?”

 “It means accepting that things have changed,” Logan snaps, “and working through it.”

 Roman tilts his head. “How would you like me to do that?”

 “Well—“ Logan adjusts his glasses— “let’s start with an apology.”

 Something flickers across Roman’s face. Janus looks back and forth between Thomas and Remus. Thomas just looks a little confused as to what’s going on—which, when doesn’t he?—and Remus is staring right at Roman. There’s a strange expression on his face.

 “What would you like me to apologize for?”

 Janus winces when Virgil scoffs, turning away, and Logan’s mouth hardens into a thin line.

 “Why don’t you try starting,” Patton says, “and we’ll see.”

 “No, you know what? No.” Virgil points a finger at Roman. “I’m done holding your hand through all of this. Waiting for you to realize that you fucked up.”

 “Virgil—“

 “No, Pat!” Virgil gestures between the three of them. “You know how hard it’s been on us, waiting for something to change, and now he wants us to just…what, walk him through what he did wrong?”

 Patton spares a glance at Roman before looking away.

 Roman’s face twitches. He looks down.

 “Perhaps Virgil is right,” Logan says, “when Roman can try taking the first step, then maybe this conversation will be more productive. Until then, I see no reason to waste time.”

 “Great. Bye, Thomas.”

 “Wait, you guys are just leaving?”

 “I see no reason to simply stand here and be unproductive,” Logan shrugs, “perhaps if something changes, you can summon us back.”

 “Doubt it,” Virgil mutters, grabbing Logan’s shoulder and sinking them out. Patton spares one last look at Roman before he leaves too.

 Thomas shuffles a little. Remus keeps staring at Roman.

 After a moment, Roman moves.

 “…you want me to apologize?”

 Janus definitely imagines the chill that goes through the room.

 Roman raises his head. He does not look at where Patton stood, he does not look at where Virgil stood, he does not look at where Logan stood.

 He looks directly at Thomas.

 “I’m sorry, Thomas.”

 Thomas splutters. “Roman—“

 “I’m sorry that I sent you to the wedding,” Roman says softly, Thomas’s words dying in his throat, “I’m sorry that I made a decision that I thought you wanted. I’m sorry that I tried to put your friends above your own wants, because I thought that was right. I’m sorry that I thought I was doing what was right.”

 Thomas’s eyes go wide.

 “I’m sorry that you never had faith that you would win the callback,” Roman continues, never once looking away from Thomas, “I’m sorry that your dreams are always too far away, that you must always feel the need to crush them in favor of what is more practical. I’m sorry that you constantly feel like you’re set up to be one big disappointment.”

 Janus’s arms drop in shock.

 “I’m sorry that I can’t do what you want,” and by this point, Thomas looks on the verge of tears, “even though that’s supposed to be my job. I’m sorry that nothing I do is ever good enough on its own, that you feel so afraid, so scared of doing the things you want. I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel even the tiniest bit of my fear.”

 Thomas stifles a noise.

 “I’m sorry that I don’t know things.” Roman chuckles sadly. “I’m sorry that it takes me so much time to figure out what to do. I’m sorry that it always feels like everyone’s one step ahead of me, that you have to wait for me to catch up, even though I never, ever do. I’m sorry for not sticking to the plan.”

 Something heavy presses against Janus’s throat.

 “And I’m sorry that I’m hurt. I’m sorry that it’s been a little too much for me to handle. I’m sorry that my pain is an inconvenience to you.”

 “R-Roman—“

 Roman just smiles sadly when Thomas can’t finish the sentence. He spreads his arms, giving a little gesture to himself.

 “I’m sorry that this is your Ego.”

 Janus sees the moment the horrified realization dawns on Thomas’s face.

 “I’m gonna fucking kill them,” Remus snarls and it’s only years of practice that makes Janus’s reflexes fast enough to catch hold of him before he sinks out. “Let me go!”

 “You can’t hurt them,” Janus grunts, “you know you can’t.”

 “Fucking watch me!”

 “No, no, Remus,” Thomas splutters, “don’t—don’t do that.”

 “Why the fuck not?” Remus snarls, spittle flying from his lips as he struggles against Janus’s hold. “You heard what Roman just said, they—they—“

 “We did it too, Remus,” Janus says softly, glancing at Roman, “we’re not blameless either.”

 Remus keeps struggling. “Let—me—“

 “Remus.”

 Roman’s soft voice still the duke entirely, his head whipping around. Roman just stares at him, resignation and acceptance written plainly on his features.

 “It’s not fair, Ro,” he mumbles.

 “Life isn’t fair.”

 “I—I can summon them back, we can get them back, they can listen to you—“

 “But they won’t,” Roman cuts off in the same soft fury, “they won’t listen to me.”

 “Roman, they love you!”

 Janus winces. Roman just turns to look at him. He can’t meet his eyes.

 “Maybe,” Roman says eventually, “maybe not. Either way…”

 He spreads his hands.

 “Here we are.”

 “Let me go, Jan.”

 “If I do, will you stay?”

 “Fine.”

 Janus lets him go, only for Remus to lunge and wrap his brother in a tight hug. Roman stands there, immobile, until Remus lets out a howl. Roman just murmurs another soft ‘I’m sorry,' and sinks out.

 Remus collapses to the floor, his Morningstar cupped in his hands.

 “What—what just happened?”

 “The twins share things,” Janus murmurs quietly, his eyes still on Remus, “including emotions when they are particularly strong.”

 “So—“ Thomas shakes his head— “so Remus is feeling what Roman’s feeling?”

 “No,” Remus snarls, still gripping the weapon tightly, “I’m feeling what Roman isn’t feeling.”

 He stands up, eyes blazing.

 “I am what Roman isn’t. To you. What Roman isn’t, I am. Which means—“ his knuckles turn white— “the fact that I’m feeling so strongly right now means that Roman isn’t.”

 Thomas goes pale. “What?”

 “Roman is numb,” Janus says quietly, “he’s closed himself off from…everything. To protect himself.”

 “It means my brother, the good Creativity, passion, desire, romance, hopes and dreams, whatever you want to call him,” Remus growls, “is now numb, touch-starved, and too afraid of rejection to reach out for anything.”

 “What do I do,” Thomas asks frantically, “how do we fix this?”

 “You can let me kill the others.”

 “No, Remus.”

 “Talk to them,” Janus suggests instead, “I’m not sure they realize what Roman being the Ego means.”

 Thomas nods. “Okay, we can do that. Should we do that…now?”

 Janus opens his mouth to respond only for something very familiar to trickle into his mind, along with an all-too-familiar tug.

  Stupid, useless, worthless, toxic, dumb, unimportant, bad, can’t do anything right, selfish, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong—

 “Not now,” he manages, “get some rest. You need it.”

 Thomas nods tiredly. Remus just gives him a look that says ‘you’d better not fuck this up’ and leaves, probably to go work out some of his aggression on creatures in the Imagination.

 Janus sinks straight into Roman’s room and his heart breaks.

 Roman is on the floor, pieces of his prince costume thrown haphazardly around him, sobbing hysterically. It’s so loud that for a moment, Janus worries that someone else will come, trying to figure out what’s wrong, before he’s hit with another wave of lies.

  Broken broken broken broken broken broken broken broken wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong hopeless hopeless hopeless hopeless hopeless hopeless—

 He aches.

 Because he knows he can’t do anything while Roman’s awake. He’d never let him close, never let him see this. A sick feeling crawls into Janus’s stomach at the thought of invading Roman’s privacy like this but it wars with the knowledge that he’d be summoned anyway, and that Roman is falling apart.

 So he has to wait.

 Watching as Roman falls apart, believing himself unloved, unwanted, and unseen.

 Slowly, far too slowly, the harsh sobs morph into softer cries, then sniffles, then Roman stills, slumping on the carpet as his breathing evens out. Tears of his own threaten the corners of Janus’s eyes.

 The poor thing cried himself to sleep.

 But as he moves closer, reaching out a hand to stroke back his hair, he lets out a coo before he can stop himself when he sees more tears.

 The poor thing cried himself to sleep and kept crying.

 “Oh, sweetie,” Janus whispers, moving to cradle him as gently as he can without waking him, “sweetie you come here, shh, shh, honey, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

 He lifts the poor prince into his arms, moving swiftly to the bed and laying him down, tucking him in protectively and running his fingers through his hair.

 “It’s okay, sweetie, you’re safe now, it’s okay, you’re safe…” He settles Roman’s head on the pillow. “Shh, shh, shh, that’s it, shh…”

 Sleep-clumsy fingers curl around his arms. Oh. Oh, dear. Well…

 “Oh, sweetie, are you—do you want me to stay?” Janus tries to pull away a bit only for Roman to grumble and hang on. “Oh—okay, sweetie, I’ll stay, just—just a moment.”

 He snaps the fingers on a free hand and changes into something softer, something he can sleep in, something Roman can hold and cuddle. He slides into bed next to him, only to be immediately cuddled by a sleeping, still crying Roman.

 “Shh, sweetie,” he whispers, nuzzling Roman’s head, “I’m right here, I’m not leaving, I won’t leave you.”

 Roman mumbles something and snuggles into Janus’s chest. He makes another comforting noise at the evidence of more tears.

 “It’s gonna be okay, sweetie, I promise, I’ll look after you, I’ll take care of you.”

 And when Roman lets out a little cry, still asleep, he breaks, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

 Roman melts.

 “Oh, sweetie…”

 Janus spoils him with kisses, across his forehead, down his tear-stained cheeks, running his hands through his hair, down his arms, over his back, soothing a particularly painful hitch with a hand on his tummy, rubbing gently until he lapses back into a peaceful sleep. He buries his face in Roman’s hair and holds him tight.

 He swallows heavily, guilt and concern warring in his throat.

 “I don’t want you to think,” he begins carefully, “that I’m only apologizing because I feel guilty over seeing you hurt and that it’s my fault.”

 He tightens his grip on the sleeping prince.

 “I am sorry, Roman,” he whispers with his lips against Roman’s forehead as if to speak the truth into the prince’s dreams, “for all the hurt I have caused you. For using and manipulating you, for dismissing you and letting you think you were useless, and for letting the others make you believe you were so unlovable.”

 He shudders, his breath coming out shaky.

 “But mostly…” he swallows, “mostly I’m sorry that I won’t be brave enough to say that to you when you’re awake.”

 +1.

Janus blinks. There’s sunlight coming in through the curtains.

 His room definitely has curtains.

 Oh. Right. He’s in Roman’s room.

 Shit, he’s still in Roman’s room.

 He’s fallen asleep, he realizes, in Roman’s bed, with Roman cuddled protectively to his chest, after the poor thing had sobbed himself to sleep in the aftermath of that awful, awful meeting.

 Unconsciously, he goes to tighten his grip on the sleeping prince before realizing that he should be doing the opposite.

 He should leave. Now. Before Roman wakes up and sees him.

 He definitely wants to be around for that conversation.

 So, despite the ache in his stomach at the thought of leaving Roman alone right now, he grits his teeth and starts trying to disentangle himself from Roman, despite Roman’s best efforts to cling onto him. If he weren’t so afraid of the consequences of getting caught, he’d find it adorable.

 Okay, maybe he still finds it adorable.

 But Roman’s so soft when he sleeps, so lovely, so unabashed at chasing what he wants. He clings to Janus’s shirt with clumsy fingers, burbles soft noises of protest when Janus’s warmth leaves his side.

 “Come on, sweetie,” Janus coaxes, gently prying Roman’s fingers off, “let me go, you don’t want me to be here when you wake up.”

 “Mmno.”

 “You say that now…” He still won’t let go. “Come on, sweetie, let me go…”

 He leans down to press a kiss to his cheek, hoping Roman will melt and he can escape.

 “That’s it, just go back to sleep, sweetie,” he murmurs, his voice low and hypnotic, carding his fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead, “sleep, sleep, sleep…”

 “Stay,” comes the sleepy little mumble, its voice still lost in the dream, “take care ‘f me.”

 The earnest plea brings a sad little smile to Janus’s face.

 “If you knew who I was,” he whispers, “you wouldn’t ask that.”

 Roman opens his eyes and stares right at him.

 Janus freezes, his hands still caught in Roman’s hair, Roman’s hands still gripping his shirt.

 “Stay,” Roman repeats, his tongue thick with sleep but awake, “don’t run away this time.”

 This time?

 Oh.

  Oh.

  Oh, no.

 Janus swallows. “How long—“

 “You said you didn’t hate me,” Roman mumbles, still tugging on Janus’s shirt to get him back, “and that it hurt more that the others didn’t realize.”

 “You were supposed to be asleep.”

 “You were supposed to hate me.” Roman tugs harder. “Come back.”

 Janus gets slowly back into position, letting Roman cling to him like a child with a teddy bear. Without permission, his own arms wrap around the sleepy prince, and Roman all but purrs.

 “We c’n talk later,” the prince mumbles, already drifting back to sleep, “but stay. Want you to stay.”

 And…well, if it’s the first time Roman’s asked for something he wants in god knows how long, what else is Janus supposed to do but obey?

 “Alright, sweetie, I’m right here,” he murmurs, curling his arms tightly around the poor prince, “do you want to try and go back to sleep?”

 “Mm.”

 But his eyes don’t drift closed. Instead, they stay glassily alert, one hand fisted loosely in the slack of Janus’s shirt.

 “Sweetie,” Janus calls after a little, “do you want to change into something easier to sleep in?”

 He lifts one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug.

 “Can I help?”

 Another shrug. Janus tucks a loose piece of hair behind Roman’s ear, snapping his fingers to put the costume on the mannequin in the closet and replace it with a soft red shirt and boxers. He presses another kiss to Roman’s forehead and ruffles his hair.

 “Why don’t you hate me?”

 Janus frowns, pulling Roman closer. “How could I hate you?”

 He holds a finger gently up to the prince’s lips before the lies can fill Roman’s head again.

 “Let me rephrase: I don’t hate you, Roman, I promise.”

 Roman’s disbelief is palpable. “But why?”

 ...maybe he is going to have to do this.

 “I can hear lies,” he murmurs, “whenever someone says them or thinks them. If they’re not true, I’ll hear it. No, no—stay here, sweetie, shh, I’m not angry, I’m not disappointed. I can hear them when you tell yourself that you’re worthless, or toxic, or that we all hate you.”

 He lifts Roman’s chin gently.

 “They’re lies, sweetie, that’s why I can hear them. You’re not worthless, you’re not toxic.”

 Roman whimpers.

 “You’re not broken,” he continues softly, holding him still, “you’re not hard to love, we don’t hate you.”

 He cups Roman’s face and pulls him in to rest their foreheads together.

 “And I care about you, sweetie, so, so much.”

 Roman’s breath shudders warmly on his cheeks.

 “Shh, shh, oh, come here, sweetie—there you go, you can cry, honey, I’ve got you, I’m right here, shh, shh...”

 The weight of the prince’s tears drying on his collar makes it hard to swallow. He tugs the blankets closer around them and lets Roman cling onto him as he cries.

 “I know you don’t believe me,” he whispers as familiar lies start to drift across, “but it’s true, sweetie. It’s true, it’s true, I promise. I’m here to take care of you.”

 “I’m—I’m sorry—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sor—sorry—“

 “Shh-shh-shh, don’t apologize to me, sweetie, you don’t have to apologize, I’m right here, I’m not angry, nothing’s so bad.”

 “I’m sorry.”

 Janus hushes him gently with a kiss to his cheek. “I know you are...even though you don’t have to be, not like this.”

 His chest aches when Roman won’t stop burbling apologies.

 “Roman.” He takes the prince’s face firmly in his hands. “Roman, look at me.”

 Roman’s glassy eyes fixate on Janus’s face.

 “I forgive you, my prince,” he says, “I forgive you.”

 Roman’s mouth stills.

 “If that is what you need to hear,” he continues, softening his grip, “I forgive you, my prince.”

 “You...you do?”

 “I don’t want you to think that you need my forgiveness for me to love you,” Janus murmurs, “but yes, sweetie. I forgive you.”

 Roman collapses.

 Janus catches him. Of course, he catches him. He curls around his prince and murmurs sweet nothings, reassurances, anything he needs right now.

 It’s messy, it’s frantic, it’s desperate, it’s human.

 He can care for Roman while Roman lets himself be human. So he holds the poor thing while he cries himself out.

 He doesn’t cry himself to sleep again, thankfully, just enough to slump against Janus’s chest and huff.

 “Sorry.”

 “No need to apologize, that was long overdue.” He runs his knuckles up Roman’s back. “Can we get you something to drink?”

 Roman stiffens. “Does that mean going downstairs?”

 “No, sweetie. Come on...”

 He gets Roman seated on the edge of the bed with a glass of water in his hands. Roman drinks, blinking as Janus passes him a warm cloth, then a cool cloth, to clean his face.

 “What do they want me to do,” he asks after he’s finished the glass and the cloths are hanging over the laundry basket, “now?”

 Janus winces. Is he surprised? No.

 “Shh, sweetie, I’m not angry,” he soothes when Roman tenses, “I’m concerned. You’re still—you still need to take care of yourself first before you worry about everyone else.”

  But everyone else is worthy of the worrying, not me.

 Janus hisses gently. Roman just sighs.

 “It’s what you’ve told me,” he mumbles, “I don’t—I can’t just stop it.”

 “I’m not expecting you to be able to just stop it, sweetie, it’s going to take time, but part of it is going to be recognizing what’s not true.”

 “I know.”

 Janus opens his mouth to say something else when Roman gasps, his hand flying to his chest.

 “Sweetie? Sweetie, what is it?”

 “I’m—I’m being summoned.” Roman clutches his shirt, staring up at Janus. “Thomas—Thomas—“

 “I’ll go.” Janus gives Roman’s shoulder a squeeze. “Just wait here for me, sweetie, I’ll be right back.”

 He can still feel the warmth of Roman’s shoulder tingling under his palm as he appears in the living room.

 “I’m sure you have a wonderful reason for trying to summon Roman,” he drawls, raising an eyebrow at a Thomas.

 Thomas looks up from his computer. “We were still filming.”

 Janus stiffens. “You’re not thinking of trying to continue—“

 “What? No, no, I’m saying that while Roman was talking the camera was still rolling.” Thomas points to the screen. “Which means we have it. All of it.”

 Ah, now he sees where Thomas is going.

 “You want them to watch.”

 “They should, shouldn’t they?”

 Yes, a bitter part of Janus growls, they should see how badly they’ve made Thomas’s Ego crumble.

 “What do you think?”

 Thomas rolls his shoulders back. “I think up until Roman said...all of that, I didn’t think the others were wrong either.”

 He glances up at Janus.

 “Did you?”

 Janus huffs. “I don’t think we ever give Roman enough credit for how good of an actor he is.”

 With that, the whole sorry tale spills out of him. He doesn’t reveal the exact nature of the lies, just the broad swaths of them and how many there are. To Thomas’s credit, he deals with it better than Janus expected. That is, he doesn’t burst into tears.

 Thomas takes a deep breath.

 “...yeah, we’re watching this now.”

 “Right now?”

 “Answer me this,” Thomas says, looking up at him again, “where is Roman? Right now?”

 “...on his bed.” At Thomas’s pointed stare, he relents. “He’s not alright, Thomas, he hasn’t been for a very long time.”

 “Then yeah. Right now.”

 “Then I’m going to ask Roman if he wants to be here.”

 Thomas nods. “Can you—can you tell him I’m sorry?”

 “You can do that yourself when he’s ready to hear it.”

 Understandably, Roman does not want to be there. Janus wraps him tightly in the softest blankets he has, tucked up with a pillow and a glass of water nearby if he wants it, along with the reassurance that if Roman wants him back here, at any point, to call. He’ll listen.

 “Thank you.”

 Janus leaves him with one last squeeze, appearing in the living room with the others. Thomas is back to setting up the computer so they can all see the screen.

 “Thomas?” Logan adjusts his tie. “I was unaware we had something scheduled for today.”

 “We didn’t. Spur of the moment.”

 Remus shoots Janus a look. Janus nods. Remus shifts a little closer to him and his hand grips his Morningstar.

 “Is this about the video from yesterday?” Virgil looks around warily. “Or is it something else?”

 “It is about yesterday.”

 “Shouldn’t we...wait for Roman?”  Patton rubs the back of his neck. “He kinda—well, if we’re talking about yesterday—“

 “Roman’s not coming.” Thomas keeps fiddling with the computer.

 Logan raises an eyebrow. “Are we deciding how to film the video without Roman?”

 “No.” Thomas glances at Janus. Janus nods. Thomas looks back at the others. “Roman’s not coming because he doesn’t want to.”

 “What the fuck?”

 “Language, kiddo,” Patton mumbles halfheartedly.

 “Wait, so—“ Virgil doesn’t look so much as chided— “you’re just gonna let Princey throw his temper tantrum and not come work?”

 “How much attention were you guys paying to what happened after you sunk out yesterday?”

 “…not much, why?”

 In response, Thomas just pushes ‘play.’

 Their voices fill the room, telling Roman what he’s done wrong, why he’s holding all of them back, why he’s the source of all their problems. Lies, lies, and more lies. They get to the part where the other three sink out and Remus tightens his grip on the handle.

  “…you want me to apologize?”

 Virgil opens his mouth, presumably to make some quip, only to cut himself off with a strangled noise once Roman’s apologies begin.

 Janus watches with a sick sense of satisfaction as Patton’s hands fly to his mouth, eyes wide at the hopeless tone coming out of the computer. Next to him, Virgil goes rigid, borderline catatonic. He looks as if one little push would send him toppling over.

 He can’t see Logan’s face until Thomas stops the playback. It’s only when Logan takes his glasses off to clean them that he can see the tears on his cheeks.

 Thomas looks up at Janus.

 “Can you still hear them?”

 “The lies?” Thomas nods. “Yes.”

 There’s a moment of silence.

 “Roman is the Ego,” Logan whispers, mostly to himself, “Roman is the Ego. Of course…of course, I understand—I understand now.”

 “What does that mean?”

 Logan takes a deep breath and looks up at Patton. “It means that Roman is Thomas’s sense of self-worth, more or less, and that he—he takes the brunt of Thomas’s reactions to…any sort of feedback, more than any of us. Good or bad.”

 Virgil stifles a curse. “And we’ve taught him to hate himself.”

 “Quite.”

 “We—“ Patton takes a breath— “we need to apologize.”

 “We all do.” Thomas closes the computer and sets it aside. “I don’t…I don’t know how we do that, though.”

 “Breaking patterns of thinking is hard,” Logan says, “and…especially hard when you have been taught not to ask for help.”

 “But there has to be something!”

 “Touch-starved,” Virgil breaks in, staring at a spot on the carpet, “Roman’s touch-starved.”

 Janus raises an eyebrow.

 “…when I was still having trouble,” Virgil says after a moment of them all looking at him, “Roman—Roman would just come and ask me if I wanted to—to—“

 He hunches his shoulders.

 “Sometimes it’d be a hug. Sometimes he’d sit next to me and—and lean on me. Sometimes he’d just—you know, with the forehead thing—“

 “Bonk.”

 They all turn to Logan, who has…a surprising flush to his cheeks.

 “Roman said that he—he wanted to be able to express affection for me and not disturb my work,” he manages, “so we…came up with a solution.”

 Patton blinks. “Is that why Roman will just walk up to you and bonk his forehead against yours?”

 “Yes.”

 “Huh.”

 “That’s adorable,” Thomas says quietly, “that’s—wait, hang on, that’s really adorable.”

 “It was Roman’s idea.” Logan swallows. “Most of his ideas are good.”

 “Yeah,” Thomas says, “maybe we should try telling him that next time.”

 Janus looks around. The others look to be in various states of remorse and determination. With the exception of Remus, who still looks like he wants to bash a few of their skulls in.

 “…can we go hug Roman now?”

 “I wanna do that.”

 “If he’s—“ Logan glances between Thomas and Janus— “do you know if he would be amenable to that? If he—would like that?”

 “We can ask,” Janus says quietly, “but I don’t know.”

 “And if he says no,” Remus growls, “you get out.”

 “We understand, Remus,” Logan promises. He looks at Thomas. “Thank you, Thomas.”

 Thomas shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. Not yet. We all have stuff to fix.”

 Janus adjusts his cape. “Then let’s get started, shall we?”

 They don’t sink right to Roman’s room. Instead, Janus knocks quietly on the door and waits for the soft ‘yes?’ from the other side to open it.

 “Roman,” he calls softly, “hey, sweetie, why’re you over there?”

 Because Roman, the poor thing, is at his desk, trying to work.

 “I—um—“

 “I’m not angry, sweetie,” he murmurs, arms going around the prince to pull him up out of the desk chair, “just concerned.”

 “I figured that if I got to work they’d be less mad that I wasn’t there,” Roman mumbles, even as he lets Janus pull him back to the bed, “so I…”

 “Oh, sweetie, no one’s angry at you.”

 Roman looks up at him with such a heartbreaking look of disbelief that he lets out a soft noise, cupping his face.

 “Would you believe me if I said they want to apologize and make it up to you?”

 “No.”

 He squints. “Have you believed anything I’ve told you since you woke up?”

 “No.”

 The lack of hesitation makes his eyes widen. Leaning forward, he rests his forehead against Roman’s as he pulls off his gloves, reaching up to cup the prince’s head.

 “I meant every word,” he murmurs, doing his best to wipe away the bits of salt in the corners of his eyes, “every single word.”

 He pauses, then leans closer.

 “They’re sorry, Roman,” he whispers, “they’re so sorry and they want to know how to make it better.”

  They don’t want you. They hate you. They’ve never cared about you. They don’t even want to touch you.

 Janus hisses softly as he pulls Roman in for a hug. The poor thing still reacts like it’s the first time someone’s touched him in years.

 “They want to see you, sweetie,” he whispers, “and I believe their exact words were ‘can we go hug Roman now?’”

 “W-what?”

 In response, Janus pulls away a little and nods to the door. Roman’s eyes widen.

 “Can we let them in, sweetie?”

 “They’re here?”

 “Right outside.”

 “They want—they want to—“

 Roman’s desperate gaze flies to the door. He raises a shaking hand and lets it open.

 Patton’s through the door before it’s even all the way open. Roman lets out a wounded noise as Patton barrels into them, his arms wrapped around Roman before Janus can blink.

 “Pat—Patton—Pa—wha—?”

 “I’m sorry, Roman, I’m so sorry, kiddo—“

 Virgil follows not too long after, pulling Roman’s legs into his lap and reaching out to take Roman’s outstretched hand.

 “Hey, Princey,” he says, the growl from not five minutes ago softened to a low rumble, “missed you.”

 “Mis—miss—missed me?”

 “Yeah, Roman, missed you. Didn’t feel the same without you there.”

 Then Logan. As Patton and Virgil move to get Roman into a more comfortable position, Logan sits behind him so that when Roman leans back, his head rests against Logan’s shoulder. Logan reaches up to tangle his fingers in Roman’s hair, smiling softly at the low noise from Roman’s throat.

 “Bonk?”

 Roman nods, still blinking in confusion but lets Logan press his forehead gently to his.

 “Thank you, little star,” he murmurs, smiling at the way Roman’s mouth falls open, “I didn’t forget, Roman, even if I haven’t been the best at showing it.”

 “We don’t hate you, Princey,” Virgil says, squeezing his hand, “and we—well, we owe you one hell of an apology.”

 “But we don’t have to talk about that now.” Patton adjusts his grip around Roman’s waist. “Not if you don’t want to.”

 Remus picks this moment to not walk through the door and climb onto the bed but to sink down through the ceiling and land on top of them.

 “Re!”

 “Hey, Ro-Bro.”

 “Re, get off, you—it’s too much.”

Remus rolls to the side, right into Janus’s lap, effectively making sure that none of them are leaving, not that they particularly wanted to.

 Janus watches as Roman slowly asks if they can stay like this for a while, smiling when the answer is a resounding ‘yes,’ the cuddle pile closing in around their prince. Roman’s head rests against the crook of Logan’s neck, one of his hands wrapped in Janus’s, the other in Virgil’s. His legs lie in Virgil’s lap, Patton cuddling him protectively as Logan strokes his head. Remus and Janus keep watch, sentries over the resting prince.

 For the first time, in a long time, as Roman drifts off to sleep, the only lie in his head is this won’t last forever.

 They’ve got time to prove him wrong.

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[lyallblacklupin]

My other half.

Sirius is very upset because his other half, James Potter, has been taken away from him. The James who used to hold Sirius after a nightmare has Lily Evans in his arms one particular night, which angers Sirius a lot. He thinks that he has lost his friend. Little does he know, there is a certain perfect Marauder who understands him more than he understands himself.

“And then what I got to see was Evans! You just don’t care about your best friend anymore because of her!”

“Sirius, I can’t take care of you all the time! And I want you to be supportive here, be my best frien—“

“Whoa, whoa, what do you mean by ‘I can’t take care of you all the time’?” Sirius almost yelled at James, his chest heaving violently. James sighed and rubbed his temples.

“Pads, how many times I have to tell that Lily is now my girlfriend—“

“And what about me!?” Sirius knew that this was an unhealthy act of friendship and that was: Possessiveness. But he wanted to get this unsettling agitation off his chest that had been clinging him since the last night he had found Lily Evans buried in James’ embrace. Sirius had never felt so furious, and betrayed in his life. He wanted to lash out on his best friend, who was just like a brother to him. A non-biological brother who’d always been there for Sirius when his blood family sent him a shitty letters, and reassured him that he was not alone because the Potters were his family now, the same brother who’d been there to hold him when he had nightmares so he’d tuck him in his embrace and he could sleep a dreamless slumber till dawn, and then he’d go to his own bed. However, last night had been an exception, because the two brothers had an intervention after almost six years of inseparability, in the name of Lily Evans who had just started coming and going in their dorm, and Sirius felt like his privacy was assaulted.

“Sirius, don’t make this hard, please…” James flopped down on his bed, holding his head in his hands. Sirius hated that look because it reflected the exhaustion he was feeling, and it felt like a verification for Sirius that James was done taking care of him. Sirius knew that James had been taking extra care of him since they were eleven that even Remus and Peter had been annoyed and hated him for favoring Sirius more than he needed. Sirius didn’t want to feel like a child when he was a hopeless sixteen who didn’t have a girlfriend or anyone of his roommates to take constant of care of him. He knew that he was unfair with James. He knew that how much James wanted to date Lily Evans, and he also knew that he was being a pathetic friend and a mean brother to him for ruining his happiness by fighting him.

“Sirius?” James asked softly when Sirius was gazing hard on the floor, his mind in the trance of endless thoughts, and they just spiked up the guilt inside him.

But there was just this unnamed emotion of bitterness sitting at the top of his chest that denied him from acknowledging all of those facts about James Potter.

“It was the first nightmare I had without having you with me.” He blurted out, not looking at James at all. He believed that there was no one in the dorm except the two of them because if there were, he’d have been hearing gagging or huffing noises from the rest of the two marauders.

“Pads, I know. But what do you want me to do?” James’ voice sounded helpless.

“Nothing…absolutely nothing.” And with that, Sirius turned around to walk out of the dorm. He was reaching for the doorknob when his eyes side-caught Remus Lupin sitting on his bed, who had witnessed the entire conversation between them. Sirius thought his heart had stopped beating for a second. He fought back the embarrassment and scurried out of the room in a flash, hoping Remus hadn’t seen his flushed face.

Sirius spent his whole day with the rest of the Marauders, because James and Lily had gone to lake, hand in hand, together. He knew that James was giving him space. Peter was serving detention, so technically, Sirius got to hang out with the only Marauder and that was Remus Lupin.

Both of them were sitting under the tree. It had been an hour since they had been relishing the double free periods, and none of them had spoken a single word. Remus had a reason to stay quiet because he was reading a book of poetry, while Sirius was playing with the thorns of the grass, plucking and brushing them. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a reason to stay silent but because it was a ridiculous one that his best friend had finally gone out with the girl of his dreams, and he is being an absolute prat about it. Yeah, great one, Sirius! He internally mocks himself.

“Padfoot?”

Sirius praised himself that he didn’t yelp because he had almost believed that he was alone until Remus called him out.

“Moony?”

“You okay?” Remus’ amber eyes bored into him. Sirius had to look away for a bit. Remus Lupin was another story in his already chaotic life. In short, he was a mystery, even after he had revealed himself as a werewolf, who had a dying mother, and was miserably poor. Yet still, he was like a treasure residing in the depths of an island, and it never failed to tempt Sirius.

“Yeah, why?” He cleared his throat, but Remus was still gazing him.

“You are sulking.” Sirius could feel the smirk on his face without having to look.

“No, I am not.”

“I can tell.” He sighed, and Sirius thought he was done asking, and must have gone back to his book but he continued, “Your head is dangling low, your eyes are blinking a little too much, and your hands…well they don’t take a break from causing a wreckage like you are doing right now…”

Sirius looked down and saw that a palm-sized patch was created on the ground because of the plucking of grass. He looked back at Remus whose eyes were smiling more than his mouth.

“Congratulations, you just won the house cup for studying Sirius Black’ sulking postures.” Sirius said with a deadpanned face, and Remus laughed amusingly, putting away his book. It was a precious thing he did, because Remus rarely put his book away for anyone. Maybe Sirius was not just anyone for him.

They spent the afternoon talking and laughing, and Sirius felt warm and blissful to realize how much he enjoyed Remus’ company. He really underestimated him, and it made him feel all blue. He was gone back to sulking when James and Lily arrived for the dinner, while Remus was gone back to sit with Peter as usual.

The midnight was emerged upon Sirius as he had woken up from another nightmare. His vision was blurry, and he sat up on his bed. He was shivering and the covers were not helping him because he could feel the perspiration on his back and arms. James was sleeping alone because his curtains were not drawn shut, and Sirius was craving the human warmth but he wasn’t feeling right to go to him after their argument. He gathered his knees and pulled them close to his chest. He felt like crying because now he was recognizing that agonizing emotion inside him, and that was: Loneliness.

The reason he never had a proper relationship with a girl was because he never wanted to have a girl in his life. He had thought that his roommates were his only family, and they were the only ones he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. He loved them so much. He let his tears fall, and slipped into his cover again anyway, curled up in a ball. He knew that sleep was nowhere near him.

Just when he thought he could change into Padfoot, he heard the rustling sound of curtains. He felt alerted and, in all honesty, scared. He knew that his mind was deceiving him. They were just the aftershocks of the nightmares, but then he felt footsteps approaching. He squeezed his night shut. And then—

“Sirius?” It was not James.

“Moony?” Sirius turned around to find Remus standing in his pajamas. His hair were sticking out in every directions.

“Can I sleep with you?” His voice was hoarse, and he looked uncomfortable.

“Of course, you can. Hey, you okay?” Sirius scooted to make some space for him.

“Nightmares.” He replied, and it instantly broke Sirius’ heart.

They both laid together with a respectful distance, facing each other. Sirius could hear Remus’ teeth chattering. The half-moon’s light was landing on Remus, and Sirius could see his knuckles turning white as he fisted the blanket close to his chest. His eyes were screwed shut. Sirius was able feel every move of his body. He placed a hand on Remus’ cheek, and those amber eyes snapped open. Sirius decided that it was definitely the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Remus smiled weakly at him. He was reaching to hold Sirius’ wrist of that same hand before Sirius grabbed his shoulders, and shoved him in his embrace.

He thought Remus would protest. Instead, he melted. He buried his face in the crook of his neck, wrapping his own hands around Sirius’ waist, pulling him impossibly closer, while Sirius did the same by enveloping his torso by his own arms.

“I’m here for you, Pads.” Remus whispered in his skin, and it made Sirius smile.

“I’m here for you, too, Moony.”

Both of them fitted perfectly into each other’s bodies. After when they were relaxed in their positions, Sirius looked down to see the Remus sound asleep, a contenting smile tugging his lips, and suddenly that emotion of loneliness inside Sirius dissipated like it never existed.

[simpforsersi]

Deja Vu - Mobius x gn!Reader

Hey look I wrote a thing! Granted, I wrote this thing in between busy moments at work, so there’s little to no plotline. Just a tired Mobius and a supportive reader.

Summary: Pre-the fall of TVA. I’m really unoriginal so this is yet another “Mobius and the reader were a thing before they were brought into the TVA” because I can’t get over that idea. Mobius is tired and has been having weird dreams.

Warnings: I can’t think of any warnings except that I think I used the words “grin” and “smile” WAY too much. Also, this is unedited. 

Word Count: 1.5k

Anyway, I’m clearly very brain-dead and I’ve always been bad at summaries/talking about things I’ve written so just here. Have this.

"Where did you go?"

You glance up from the file you're poring over, concentration broken by the sound of Mobius' voice. He's resting his chin in one hand and muttering to himself, eyebrows furrowed.  

"Who?"

He looks up sharply, startled.

"What?"

You can't help laughing. He's so discombobulated by being yanked out of his intense focus. Maybe pulling him back into reality was for the best, though. His tie is askew, his jacket was shed long ago, and there are dark circles under his eyes.

You could push, try to find out what he's so concerned about in this particular case, but you think it might be for the best to distract him for a bit.

"Want a coffee?"

He drops his pen and leans back in his chair, rubbing his face.

"Coffee might be a good idea," he agrees, and you scrape your chair back and stand up. He pouts at you, and you raise an eyebrow. "I don't wanna get up," he sighs, resting his head against the back of his chair and closing his eyes. "I'm tired."

"I know," you say, trying not to dwell on the soft feelings that flutter to life in your chest at the fact that he trusts you enough to be so vulnerable. "I'll be right back."

"Oh, gosh," he says, bracing his hands on the table and getting ready to pull himself up. "I'm not an invalid. I can get my own coffee."

"I know," you say again. "I'll get it anyway, though."

He looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn't, which proves how tired he is. You offer him a smile and leave to fetch the coffee, electing to ignore the pleasant tingling incited by his answering grin.

Balancing two coffee cups and a plate of cinnamon rolls isn’t easy, but you’re talented.

"Extra strong, because I know you like it that way. Also, I brought -- ”

You look up from the two paper cups you’re holding and lose the ability of speech.

Mobius’s face is buried in his arms, and he’s snoozing on the desk. You set the coffees and the plate down and fight the soft, feathery thing that is fluttering around inside your chest.

You could wake him up, but the poor man is clearly exhausted, and also he’s very adorable like this and you aren’t about to willingly relinquish listening to his soft snores. You sip your coffee and re-immerse yourself in your paperwork, but you end up knocking your empty mug over while you’re reaching for a cinnamon roll and Mobius wakes up with a snort.

“Sorry,” you say, wincing, righting the mug. “Just a clutz over here.”

He smiles sleepily, running a hand over his face and shifting in his seat. his hair is flat on one side and sticking up on the other, and he looks like he’s feeling a little nap-disoriented.

“That’s okay,” he says, voice raspy, and clears his throat. “You brought treats?”

“Yeah,” you say, reeling from his “just woke up” voice. “There was a tray of them beside the carafe, so I thought I’d snag some before they were gone.”

“Good thinking,” he says, reaching for one. He bites into it and makes a pleased noise that has no right doing what it does to your insides. It’s your turn to shift around in your seat. “These are amazing.”

“They’re very good,” you agree. “We should track down whoever made them and get the recipe.”

“Agreed,” Mobius says. He reaches for his coffee and swallows several mouthfuls before rubbing his face again.

“You okay?” you ask. He’s still a little bit off. It’s a different kind of “off,” but he’s not feeling right and that’s bothering you.

“Yeah -- yeah,” he says. “It’s just...”

“What?” you ask, a little too eagerly. You just want to know what’s going on so that you can try to fix it. You’re Mobius’s partner, and you always help him solve his problems. You want to do that now.

“This dream,” he says, frowning. “I keep having it. It’s so... It’s just weird.”

“Oh,” you say, taken aback. He’s been knocked off-kilter by a dream? “What’s it about?”

“You,” he says, and then, blushing a little, “and me. On Earth. Doing... stuff.”

You choke on your bite of cinnamon roll. That brings a lot of thoughts to your mind that you aren’t entirely comfortable with having. Mobius is your partner, your fellow analyst, your not boyfriend or husband or anything. You’re not even supposed to want that. Boy, this is bad, but thankfully Mobius interrupts your internal panic.

“Not... not that kind of stuff,” he says, and his face is bright red. “Just... I don’t know. Cleaning the kitchen. Hanging out in cities. Riding Jet Skis.” He gives you a lopsided grin.

Your heart is beating really quickly. You were not ready for him to say anything along those lines. You could never be ready for him to say anything along those lines. This is...

“Weird,” you manage, trying not to focus on the many and very intense physical and emotional feelings that are happening right now. “What a weird dream.”

“Exactly,” Mobius says, and he has a wild look in his eyes. “None of it happened, obviously -- ”

“Obviously,” you say quickly, grabbing onto this little piece of fact in the middle of all your stormy emotions.

“ -- but it feels like it could. Or it did. Or -- ”

“Woah,” you say, growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. “None of that happened. None of it will happen. This is our life, Mobius,” you gesture at the table, strewn with paperwork and an empty plate and a couple of mugs, “and it’s all we’ve ever had and all we ever will.”

“Maybe not,” he says. “We could go to a city.”

“No, we couldn’t!” you say, panicking. You’ve never heard anyone talk like this. You work at the TVA and that’s... that’s it. That’s what you have. Mobius’s words are scaring you, not least because you can see yourself. You can see it in your head, and it feels familiar, like a movie that you’ve seen a hundred times.

“We could,” Mobius insists. “I’ll throw on some swim trunks, you grab a sunhat -- ”

"It's not like I have sunhats lying around," you interrupt him. “And do you even own a pair of swim trunks?”

“That’s not the point,” he says, sounding almost frustrated. He stands up from his seat and comes around to your side of the table. You can’t breathe, from either his proximity or the things he’s saying, you’re not sure which. “We could go,” he says. “We could just leave. Walk away from all of this and start a life of our own.”

“Mobius,” you say, shocked. You don’t know how to respond.

“What do you think?” he asks. He has a longing look in his eyes that he’s clearly trying to repress for your sake. You swallow hard.

“I think you need to go to bed,” you say, more sharply than you meant to. “I think I need to, too.”

Mobius’s face falls, and you feel the sharp sting of guilt for dashing his hopes like that. But what else can you do? Leave the TVA? That’s not happening.

“Yeah,” Mobius says with a sigh, “you’re probably right.”

You swallow again. You haven’t felt this rattled in a very long time -- probably since you and Mobius had to deal with that particularly unhinged Ultron variant -- and you just want to go to sleep and wake up with all of these strange feelings that are definitely disloyal to the TVA.

“I’m pretty sure I am,” you say.

“We just drank coffee, though,” Mobius points out, looking cautiously optimistic. “We should probably stay here and work until that wears off, right?”

You’re actually feeling very tired, and you’re willing to risk an hour of tossing and turning if it means that you can stretch out between crisp sheets and try to shake off the weirdness that has settled itself over you. But Mobius is wincing a little bit, bracing himself for rejection, and you’ve already shut him down once today.

“Okay,” you concede. “Fine. But as soon as you start snoring again, I’m gone.”

“Fair enough,” Mobius says, beaming at you.

You roll your eyes at him, trying very hard not to think about the many fluttery feelings you’re experiencing, and settle back in. He returns to his side of the table, and you shuffle your papers around until they look a bit more orderly.

“Hey,” Mobius says, and you look up at him. His eyes are tender, and your breath catches in your throat. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” you return, and he smiles again, kicking your foot lightly under the table.

You force your mind back onto your case, which is hard. It wants to stay where it is: thinking about a kitchen in a city where Mobius rests his hand on the small of your back when he’s reaching for something in the cupboard. You shake your head to clear it of the image, which is vivid enough that you can almost feel Mobius’s hand warm against your skin.

But that’s not your life, and it never will be, and it never was.

Right?

[slutfor-fictionalmen]

hi hi! I hope this message isn’t too late or anything, since I only just seen the one you send me this morning! Also I accidentally deleted your messages while trying to reply 🤦‍♀️

But if it’s still alright, may I request an Armin Arlert x slightly thicker/chubby reader? just something soft and simple! maybe he’s noticed that the reader doesn’t eat very much anymore, and is skipping meals, and he confronts her about it, because he doesn’t want her getting sick or something happening. She obviously gets a little upset about it, and like, tells him she’s been having a hard week and has been super insecure lately. She just doesn’t like the way she looks, and Armin comforts her and stuff! All the love and cuddles! 🥰 I’m in need for this rn honestly 😭

I hope i did it right!! Things are more internalized due to my own self indulgence, i hope you like it!!

Tw: self harm(starving) 

Another day passed, and you hated being in the corps more and more, with the men objectifying you and the women with their fake smiles and judgemental looks, aside from Mikasa that is. You felt her hand on your shoulder, staring right back at them as you passed.

She was the only girl-friend you’ve ever had, which makes your bond with each other especially strong, she called you her therapy stuffed animal( in a good way) with how loving and kind you were when she came home to eren’s house. You were always there, you gave her her first jacket, you bear-hugged her when she was at her worst and missed her parents, you stood by her and never faltered. Even going as far as telling off Eren for being tactless to her feelings, poor boy has no social cues.

Eren loved you for how truly different you really are, despite being an only child, you were his sister, as much as a pain in the ass you are. But this called for you being apart of his and Mika’s friend group with no doubt. Being part of erens tight knit group of friends means you were automatically loved by eren, mika…. And armin.

You always had a fondness for the shy blonde, his all bark and no bite nature stole your heart. You met at a young age but only connected through Eren, he always tells you to thank him for that introduction despite your efforts to play off your crush being in vain. You loved how… pure he looked, how in a world full of death and violence, he could always bring light into your day with a smile or a story. No matter what you could count on his smile,you could count on him.

That’s why you hated today with a passion.

“We have extra food, which one of you dumbasses didn’t eat all your shit?” You sighed, walking away from the situation you caused. It wasn’t a good day, their comments bugged you today for some reason, and Armin wasn’t there to perk up the atmosphere of this gloomy day. Making it unreasonably difficult for you to focus on your own health today, this isn’t even the first time this has happened. It’s been a week of irregular meals, constant moving, and titan stress. It wasn’t like you were trying to starve, you just didn’t have the time.

And you didn’t notice till today.

“Lookin’ thinner, bunny… are you eating well?” You ignore eren’s concerned comment, pressing forward with the group in disturbed silence. This was the fifth comment today about your looks that you’ve gotten. You weren’t a small person, you had extra meat, and you had curves, paired with your adorable tiger stripes, but you know for a fact that starving this little would not affect your appearance that much. It irritated you, and you vowed to tell off the next person who said anything.

“Y/n can-“ “Oh my GOD, are you SERIOUS? I’ve been eating! I havent lost that much weight and i don’t want to hear your Perverted FUCKING Mouth say anything! It’s idiotic for you to continue to act like a jealous schoolgirl and make your ‘sly’ comments! So just Shut up!”

You finally open your eyes from your rant, regretful as your irises meet two bright blue eyes on a horrified face. “I was just going to ask if you can slow down and walk with me-“ Guilt floods your mind as you ear him squeak out his words. You lower your gaze and nod, moving to the back of the group with the boy. It didn’t matter how long this would be, you knew Levi would make you set up for camp soon.

“ ‘m sorry armin, you didn’t deserve that, I’m just-“ “Don’t apologize, you didn’t mean it to me but it was still valid. But never mind that, are you ok? Yes you haven’t been eating but you’ve been…. Cold lately..” You wanted to tell him, just say, ‘ I’m so in love with you that even a few days without your voice makes me angry as shit’ but you knew it wasn’t the right time…. And besides, would he even accept a girl like you?

“I’m fine, just stressed, tired, and overwhelmed…. It’s a lot you know?” Armin nods walking closer to you and letting your answer settle before your group sets up for camp and your pace continues to slow.

“You’re beautiful no matter what, I’ve read articles that said starving is actually terrible for your body, unintentional or not, it won’t end up good. If i have to,” He flushes, continuing to look ahead,” I’ll stay with you all day to make sure you’re eating and drinking water.” You freeze, feeling flushed as you watch him walk away and realize that he just offered to be around you all day just for you to be healthy.

You shake it off, keeping his words at the forefront of your mind before you get ready to retire for the night. You find a note on your blanket, asking you to meet armin at his tent with water and a blanket. Curious as to what it means you do as the note says, waiting at armin’s tent before he opens the zipper with a happy smile, welcoming you inside.

“You got the water?” You lift up the container, making him nod and turn away to a covered pile in his room. He takes the cover off, revealing the food he gathered for you two. “You didn’t eat again, so I didn’t either. And before you say anything, i got some of everything  so you have to eat SOMETHING! I told you all day didn’t I?” You look at him with teary eyes, your emotions of the week spilling out at his gesture.

Sobs wrack your body before he pulls you into his form, engulfing you in a warm hug. You feel him draw soothing circles on your back, rocking you and letting out slow shushes in attempts to calm your mind. You feel him kiss the top of your head and rubbing your back more before he pulls away and guides you to the setup of food.

He grabs you a plate of everything, making you sit and eat with him. You nibble at your food, uninterested in grossing out the guy you like by eating in front of him. But that only made him take your fork and feed you himself, he was determined for you to take care of yourself and love yourself as he loves you. You notice him watch you eat with admiration, happy to see you finally giving yourself some nourishment. You hear him sigh and hesitate, but you leave it untouched before he breaks the silence.

“You know…. I’ve loved you for years, ever since you punched out that kid who threatened me for speaking up, and how you always listened to me talk about the books I’ve read and things I’ve heard-“ “i know, i love you too armin.” “No not like that, I’m IN love with you, like i want to hold your hands, kiss you everywhere, curl into you at night, i want to love you.” You stop mid chew, maintaining eye contact as you swallow and stare at him.

“Are you serious?” “Yes.” “Like you’re not-“ “Y/n L/n I am completely and utterly in love with you.” You push the food aside, crawling between his legs and curling up onto his chest and wrapping your arms around his torso. “I love you so much it hurts armin. It hurt me so badly when you wouldn’t talk to me, i don’t know what i did but i was so mad that i pushed you away.”

Armin tilted your chin up, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before he grabbed onto your soft form with a passion. “I’ll never do that again, I’m so sorry beautiful.” You hold onto him tighter pressing your ear to his chest to hear his heartbeat. “You really think I’m beautiful?”

He pulls away, reaching over you to grab your blanket…. Man he really plans things out, before he wraps it around you both and presses a kiss to your temple. He lets his hands sink into your skin, loving how your soft skin feels on his fingertips. His lips pepper kisses on your neck, pulling slightly back to press a kiss onto your hairline. You loved how gentle he was with you, you already knew the answer to to your question before he even opened his mouth.

“More then you can ever know, my love.”

[harveywritings92]

MHA/BNHA: They get severely injured and you heal them

You're recovery Girl's granddaughter you have a healing quirk called Angel's Glow, which requires skin on skin contact to work, small wounds, bruises and bone fractures are healed in seconds just by placing your hands on the injured area which will glow blue and repair damage, however wounds that are near fatal are different story. In that case, it’s kind of embarrassing, but you treat it how you would hypothermia, stripping down to your panties (or naked) and lay down holding that person close letting your healing aura cover them, of course you've never been in a situation where you've had to do that, pretty much keeping it reserved for your romantic partner, So when you got a call that your boyfriend was severely injured in a fight and his chances of survival aren't looking to good.

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Fatgum/Taishiro:

Reader's age 26.

The last thing Taishiro remembered was fighting this crazy strong villain with an equally strong quirk! So, one can imagine his confusion when the last thing he remembered before blacking out; was fighting as Fatgum and then waking up after who knows how long as Fitgum and in a stranger's bedroom hooked up to a very annoying heart monitor that would not. stop. beeping! Taishiro slowly sat up; with a grimace expecting to feel pain shooting all throughout his body the second he moved, but to his astonishment nothing happened... 

He was sure his left leg was broken during that fight! he cautiously wiggled his toes and jerk his left leg around, nothing no pain... in fact he felt great; giddy like he had just eaten an entire buffet of his favorite foods! But how did... His train thought was cut short when he felt an slender arm around his waist.

Taishiro suddenly became hyperaware of the other person, a woman. laying in the bed next to him! His heartrate spiked causing the monitor to start beeping rapidly!

The blond carefully reached over and gently pushed the woman's hair away from her face, the BMI hero felt a wave of relief wash over him upon seeing the calm sleeping face of his girlfriend Y/n starring back at him. But the relief quickly shifted to befuddlement, why was she here? he then noticed their apparent lack clothes, His yellow eyes widened and felt his face burn; Taishiro swallowed hard as he checked under blanket... why were they just wearing boxers and panties? 

Spotting a some of his spare clothes in Y/n's closet, Taishiro quietly and carefully got out of the bed; unplugged the Heart monitor before taking it off, and got dressed in his track pants and T-shirt, then careful got Y/n dressed in one of his hoodies before tucking her into bed, Just as Recovery-Girl popped her head in to check on them as she couldn't hear the monitor beeping anymore, and got worried she smiled seeing her *hopefully* soon to-be Grandson-law alive and healthy.  

"Oh thank goodness you're awake..."

"Yeah, I jus' woke up. Sorry for intruddin."

"It's nothing to be sorry for, though I'm sure you're confused how you aren't in a coma or dead."

"...What happened to me?"

Recovery-girl gave him the run down after he was put out of commission, Taishiro was in pretty bad shape, the out come was looking grim when Y/n ordered the ambulance be redirected to her private-practice which also doubled as her home, they got got one of her intern's to use their quirk which could burn off his fat, they cleaned his cuts and got him stitched up then the y/ht woman told everyone to go home; save for her grandmother and Kirishima who refused to leave his mentor until he was sure hew was going to be alright.

it was only when he saw Y/n taking her clothes off did the flustered teen ask about those guest rooms, she offered and recovery- Girl lead him out of the room, the y/ht woman slipped into bed next her her unconscious lover and activated her quirk, Tai's whole body was soon surrounded in veil of blue light that slowly started to repair and heal his broken body.

Taishiro smiled gently as he caressed Y/n's cheek making her wince in her sleep. "The poor thing must be exhausted over using her quirk for two days." the pride the tall man had felt to shifted into concern. "two days?!" he croaked he remembered Y/n telling him that her quirk can also transfer her patients pain onto her to the lessen their burdens, and if he was in really bad shape as recovery-girl described... "Is she gonna be okay?" he asked voice cracking, the old nurse frowned knowing that her granddaughter told him about her quirks pain absobtion. "Well, the next couple days won't be very pleasant for her, I may have to keep her sedated." the blond eyes started to burn as he watched Y/n sleeping soundly, vowing stay by her side and to take her on very nice vacation when this was all over, they could both use it.

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Shoto Todoroki:

Reader age 21, Shoto: 19

This poor touch-starved child was so confused and flustered when he woke up in a strange bed, wearing nothing but his boxers and y/n clinging to him very intimately, all while alarm-bells were going off in his head as part on his mind was still in fight or flight mode as he cautiously scanned his girlfriend expecting this to be a dream, and the villain that attacked him to pop-out at any moment...

After a few moments of waiting for the dream to end, Shoto cautiously used his fire to burn himself he winced feeling the pain burn his wrist, then the pain went numb the bi-colored haired man's brows furrowed before seeing the familiar blue aura from [y/wt] woman's quirk reverse the damage on his wrist, Shoto's stomach churred as realized what she had done, he carefully removed himself from the warm embrace of her bed and looked around the room for something to wear before spotting some a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt left out for him, he changed then carefully got his girlfriend dressed into her PJs and her tucked in.

Shoto was the picture of calm as he kept a silent vigil over the [y/hc] woman carefully playing with her hair, but internally he was freaking out! Wondering how long had he been out for? and how long had Y/n been healing him? was she going to be okay?! he grimaced at he saw her wince in her sleep; even a blind man could see she was already suffering from the effects of over using her quirk! "Why would you do something so foolish?" he sighed using his cold half to keep Y/n's forehead cool he felt her temperature spike. "Love makes you do very rash decisions." Shoto jumped to see Recovery-Girl behind him and the dual quirked boy immediate bowed his head to her in forgiveness.

"Don't do that Todoroki, you don't need to apologize."

"But because me Y/n is..."

"It's not you're fault dear, Y/n knew the risks as soon as she heard you were in critical condition."

"How long were we like that?" he asked asked dreading the answer Recovery-Girl frowned as she checked her granddaughter's vitals over. "Four days, I won't lie the next couple days won't be kind to my Granddaughter." She saw Shoto wince knowing the guilt eating at him. "But knowing she has a handsome young man looking after her, should help her make a speedy recovery.~" the room's temperature suddenly spikes as a blush adorned Shoto's cheeks Recovery-Girl giggled jubilantly as she left the room leaving Y/n in Shoto's care.

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Touya/Dabi:

Reader age 25 (note you're quirk can't heal his scars (you've tried) you were childhood friends with him, he kidnapped you and keeps you in his safehouse!)

Dabi woke up that morning with a splitting headache, crap how much did he have to drink? he growled taking a sharp breath as his eyes adjusted to his dimly lit bedroom, trying to piece together what happened last night, when he caught something blue in the dim light at first he thought it was his quirk acting up, but then he noticed some of his staples were missing around his stomach...

The it all came flooding back to him one of the Nomus had gotten lose before it could be "trained" and went on a rampage the villains and a couple heroes on the league payroll stropped it, but not without consequences, the beast managed to take a bite out of Dabi's waist, the scarred man somehow managed to make it home... walking through the front door was the last thing he remembered before blacking out, then he felt his stomach drop when he realized that this blue glow wasn't his flames!

Dabi quickly turned the light on above his bed and found a sleeping Y/n hugging his waist her quirk overworking itself trying to fix his scars, which weren't healing because the tissue was to damaged to fix, "You idiot!" he barked getting out of bed, then paused when he felt a rush cold air on his everything, his teal eyes looked down... Yep, naked as the day he was born, he cussed and checked under the thin sheet Y/n had covered them in, same story.

He check her temperature she was freezing!  "Tch" Dabi quickly readjusted the sheet around his girlfriend's shivering body then went and put on some black sweat pants, he quickly went to drawers and grabbed a pair of boxers and a t-shirt and put those on his y/ht girlfriend, then grabbed the discarded blanket from off the floor covering the couple.

Dabi used his quirk to boost up his body temp while rubbing Y/n’s arms trying warm her up. the last thing he needed was her getting sick, however he paused his ministrations and checked his burner phone... shit it been 2 days since the incident! He had a lot of messages from the league demanding to know where he was, He should probably get around to telling them he's alive... meh, maybe after Y/n recovered those f-ckers will live.