#dividing the mindscape and splitting creativity

[brokenhardies]

okay to summarise patton & julius's relationship its life's too short from frozen (with patton as anna and julius as elsa)

[citadel-of-paper-birds]

"Secrets, secrets are no fun..."

I've been reading a lot of ff lately about Pride!Roman, and I honestly can't help but feel like there's so much that could be explored here. If you want some messy au headcanons, read below!

The concept of Roman "falling" to the dark side is as fascinating to me as the idea of Roman re-fusing with Remus. I like the idea that Roman would try to hide that he's falling from the others, and it's his own pride keeping him from asking for help or talking about how he's feeling with the others too.

I’ve come to a conclusion: being C!Thomas’s ego while also being his creativity must be really hard. The way I think about it, ego is a necessary trait for any individual. Creativity is too, but it’s actually not nearly as essential as the ego. Now where Thomas is concerned I have a whole mini dissertation regarding how Thomas’s ego and creativity ended up all tangled together, but it boils down to one major point. Thomas, as an artist, conflates his ego with his art because the degree to which he values his art makes it a point of pride for him, and therefore makes him more sensitive to others criticizing it. 

Without going too much into all that (for this post, anyway) let’s talk about why ego being a more essential function than creativity is important. I think the best way to explain is to give an alternate example. If we look at Logan for example, and if we subscribe to the idea that Logan is not just Thomas’s logic but also his curiosity we can see that there’s a clear divide between a primary function (logic) and a secondary function (curiosity). If Logan were to suddenly reverse which function he paid primary attention to then Thomas’s mindscape would be a mess. Curiosity in the driver’s seat with logic riding in the back? Unlikely to work out well.

But in a way, that’s exactly what Roman is doing and I think it might be caused by multiple factors. I think Roman’s main function is supposed to be ego, not creativity. Creativity is needed for every individual but not every individual is a creative person. Someone different may have their ego connected with their curiosity/drive to learn, while others might combine their ego with their empathy - it would most likely depend on what sub-function feeds that individual’s ego. The secondary function is meant to act as a support for the primary function (Logic & curiosity, morality & emotions/empathy, fight or flight & anxiety, self preservation & deceit, “dark” creativity & intrusive thoughts). 

Roman is treating creativity like it’s the primary function, and there are a couple main reasons this could be. One is that because Roman was split from the original creativity, who may have also encompassed the ego, he was very confused after being yanked in half and simply didn’t realize he had obtained the ego until later (and if you didn’t notice it, can it really be that important?). Another is that ego is often associated with pride, and pride is not considered a “good” thing to have. Most people have a very negative connotation of pride. You say someone’s a “proud” person and it means they’re stubborn, you say someone is prideful and it means they’re arrogant. 

Patton, our morality, is clearly put on a pedestal by Roman as seen in the most recent videos, and Roman feels like he knows that Patton would disapprove if he were to show his more egotistical side. The thing is, ego is just how a person perceives themselves when you put it in simple terms. Ego at its healthiest is a sense of self-respect. Go too far in one direction and yes, you’ll get arrogance. My concern lies in going too far the other direction, because in an effort to be “good” for Patton and the others, Roman is starving his ego instead, which can cause major self confidence issues going forward.

Honestly, I think maybe a cool option would be if Roman could somehow give a large portion of his hand in creativity to Remus. I talked before in my other post about how sometimes it feels like Remus doesn’t have a proper “helpful” function for Thomas and that could be due to only being half a side. When Roman and Remus split it seems like the split may have been uneven, and in fact the dark creativity be sequestered to one person might be what’s causing the intrusive thoughts - they might very well be Remus’s, not Thomas’s.

Giving Remus a larger portion of creativity from Roman would mean that his ideas wouldn’t always be unusable, gross, or illegal. He might be able to actually help Roman brainstorm without being distracted by the constant chatter in his own head! Likewise, having less creative function would make it easier for Roman to focus on being Thomas’s ego and working on what’s best for Thomas’s self-respect and self-image. It might also make sense that with responsibilities shifting, perhaps intrusive thoughts could be co-handled by Remus and Virgil both. Functions working together just seems like it would be more efficient.

This is already long so let me add a few more off-the-cuff things to my headcanons/aus list:

Virgil’s main function is fight or flight, not anxiety. Anxiety was just the most “noticeable” thing about him, and so the other functions (and Thomas) labeled him the best way they knew how at the time. They never started calling him fight or flight because they had already been calling him anxiety for so long, and because it doesn’t have the same ring to it. The same goes for Janus with his primary trait being self preservation and secondary being deceit. 

In this particular au where I’m making it canon that Roman’s main trait is ego and not creativity, when all the responsibilities shift it changes Remus’s functions from dark creativity & intrusive thoughts to ingenuity & resilience. No particular reason, I just want nice things for Remus. 

Anyway, what if a dark side is just a demonized side? Which is why when Roman becomes ego or pride for a lot of people he becomes “dark.” It’s a perception thing.

[whenisitenoughtrees]

look me up and define me (please remind me) (part 1/2)

He is whatever puts Thomas first. But that changes so often that he doesn’t know what he is beyond that.

He is Janus when he is alone, but only when he is not someone else.

Janus has never minded the fact that his identity is fluid, ever-changing. He acts as whoever Thomas needs him to be in the moment, and if that means he doesn't know much about himself as an individual, well. It's never been a problem for him.

Until he gives away his name, and then it very much is.

Chapter Warnings: identity issues, non-graphic panic attack, references to self-harm

Chapter Word Count: 4,493

Pairings: platonic TDLAMPR, implied Moceit (though you don’t have to read into it)

Notes: This fic started as a oneshot but ended up being more than 10k, so I’m dividing it into two parts, the second of which will hopefully be posted Friday. Also, this fic as a whole was inspired by the awesome ‘The Record Player Song’ animatic by @turbovickii, which, 10/10 would recommend if you haven’t seen it

Chapter one podfic by @titheinironside

(part 2)

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

Janus isn’t his name.

Or rather, it isn’t, and it is. He’s never had to think too hard about it before, has never had to struggle for the words to put it all into context. Janus is his name, yes, the name he chose for himself back when Thomas was young and they were all bright-eyed, foolish children, and his preferred moniker wasn’t Deceit but rather something entirely different.

Janus. Roman god of beginnings and of ends, of transitions, of doorways, of passages that lead on and on. God of time, and god of duality. He thought it a fitting descriptor for himself; he is sweet lies, lies that soothe and lies that heal, and he is bitter truths, truths that no one wants to hear, that he must keep to himself lest they do more harm than any lie could. If that is not duality, he doesn’t know what is.

But he is, at his core, whatever Thomas needs him to be. He is fluid in a way that the others are not, able to shift and change depending on the day, depending on what Thomas requires of him at any given moment. He is Thomas’ ability to lie, but only when it benefits him; when a truth would do the most good, he suggests that, instead. He wants Thomas to succeed, to do whatever it takes to better himself, to pursue his ambitions, but only until he pushes himself too far, works himself into exhaustion or questions himself too much. Then, he is the voice that tells him to relax, to take time for himself, to put his health above his goals.

He is whatever puts Thomas first. But that changes so often that he doesn’t know what he is beyond that.

He plays the part of the others, too, whenever it is necessary. They are used to it by now, so used to it that by the time he reveals himself to Thomas, they react with anger rather than surprise or alarm. But what they do not know is that for every time they catch him out, there are five more times he goes undetected, slipping in amongst them, a snake in the grass. He mediates arguments as Morality when the real Patton is nowhere to be found, uses Logic to pull them down to earth when Logan is too buried in his books and theories to realize there’s an emotional problem, uses Creativity’s bravado to advocate for Thomas’ dreams when Roman is busy dreaming himself.

He keeps the mindscape running smoothly. And when he is not one of them, when he wears his default skin, scales and all, he is known to them as Deceit. Nothing more, nothing less. A convenient villain, uniting them all in their distaste. It makes him sick, sometimes, their naivety, the knowledge that without him here, they would run Thomas into the ground all while professing their love for him. But he swallows it down, hides it within himself with all the other truths he hoards, and he carries on another day.

He is Janus when he is alone.

But even that is not true, not really. He is Janus in the snatched moments he has for himself, when there is no pressing crisis, nothing for Thomas to be doing or saying or making, when he can sit alone in his room with the jukebox crooning soft melodies. He is Janus, but only sometimes, because even alone, he draws on the traits of the others. Logan, when he needs a clearer perspective; Roman, when he needs an ego boost; Virgil, to indulge in his worries; Remus, to indulge in darker thoughts; Patton, when he is feeling weak and lonely and wanting, when he wraps his arms around himself and wants to pretend that he does not stand in solitude.

He is Janus when he is alone, but only when he is not someone else.

The Roman god Janus has two faces, one to look to the past and the other to the future. None to look to the present, and that is how he feels, most days, like there is none of him-as-Janus present at all, like every face that he wears is a false one, and his namesake has only two but he has far more than that.

He’s not sure he even knows who Janus is, besides the name, what he likes and what he dislikes, how he feels and how he acts when there is no pressure on him to keep Thomas well. He likes chess and philosophy, but he only ever plays as Logan, only uses that knowledge when he’s wearing the necktie and glasses, because otherwise he can’t get anyone else to listen. He dislikes surprises and stupidity and the ever-present knowledge that nothing in Thomas’ life is guaranteed, due to a society that actively works against most of its members, but are those his concerns or Virgil’s? He only indulges in stronger emotions when he takes Patton’s form, so who’s to say that the feelings are Janus’ at all?

And he almost never gets to act when there is no pressure on him to keep Thomas well. That pressure is always there, has always been there. Without it, who would he be?

In the end, Janus is just a name. Whether it’s his or not is difficult to say. And that has never been a problem for him; he exists to benefit Thomas, after all. He doesn’t feel the need for a solid identity beyond that, not like the others do. He only picks a name in the first place because everyone else does, because Creativity-that-is-Remus needs someone he can look up to, because Anxiety-that-becomes-Virgil needs to know that not everyone is out to get him. It’s a display of trust, in a way, but trust only leads to disaster, to angry two-toned words and pounding footsteps and a blank space in the wall where his best friend once lived, so really, what is the point?

Janus is his name. But he’s not particularly attached to it, and he’s content to leave it there.

But then, there is the callback, and the wedding. But then, he fights for Thomas’ desires harder than he has ever fought before, and when that turns sour, he returns to fight for Thomas’ failing mental health. He does so as Logan, and as Deceit when Logan’s form no longer suits the goal, and he’s not expecting them to listen but he still tries.

But then, everything changes.

But then, Thomas says, I don’t know that we are, and he believes for a moment that he is imagining all of this, that he has slipped into Roman’s face and has allowed a daydream to get just a bit out of hand, because to hear those words out of Thomas’ mouth is something he has fantasized about for so long.

But then, he has a chance at acceptance, a chance to change it all so that he no longer has to struggle to make his voice heard, a chance that all depends on using the right words at this exact moment, and in the split second before he begins to tug his glove from his hand, he panics. Because he is Deceit right now, and the amount of sincerity that he has allowed to spill from his lips has already been taxing. What else can he possibly say to earn their consideration, to earn a place among them?

And then he remembers the importance they place on names. From there, the decision is practically made for him.

He says the words as if on autopilot, an odd mixture of nervous and numb, and he has to check to make sure he has not accidentally shifted into Virgil’s hoodie rather than Deceit’s capelet as his fear thrums though him. Roman laughs, and he lashes out in return, though more due to offense at the idea that the name is stupid rather than because of a personal connection to it.

When Patton says it back to him, he can’t stop himself from flinching, just a bit, can’t stop the widening of his eyes, the stilling of every muscle. He should be glad, he thinks, because this shows that Patton, at least, is willing to give him a chance, is willing to let him in just a little. But all he can feel is a pervasive sense of wrongness, because he isn’t supposed to be Janus here. Here, he is Deceit, is acting as Deceit. Janus is for isolated, personal moments, and for the life of him, he cannot change that, cannot draw out what little he knows of Janus while there are others here, while Thomas is here.

It’s all wrong. And it only gets worse.

Patton wants to spend time with him, after that. Mostly, he’s glad to accept, is glad of the opportunity to endear himself, to cultivate a relationship that once would have been impossible. Patton invites him to bake, to watch movies, to play games, even to debate morality with him, and he does, and he finds himself enjoying both the activities and the company. But every so often, he catches himself, happiness curdling and souring, because these are all things he enjoys when he is Patton, when he is filling in the cracks that form in Morality’s absence. He has never done any of this as Janus, and every time Patton calls him by the name, he feels dirty, feels like the worst kind of imposter, because in these moments, he doesn’t feel as though he is acting as Janus so much as acting like a reflection of Patton himself, and if Patton knew that, knew that the person he thought he was befriending barely exists at all, he would be devastated.

For some reason, he thinks he would do just about anything to avoid that. For the sake of Thomas’ mental health, surely, and not because he cares about Patton as an individual. To do that would be to open a door that he wouldn’t know how to close. Better to leave it shut and locked, and to ignore the fact that the knob is already turning.

“You okay there, kiddo?” Patton asks him. “You seem a little distracted.”

He manages a smile, and he knows it comes off well, because that is what he is practiced in. “Perfectly fine,” he says. “Sorry about that.” He sniffs the air. “This batch definitely won’t burn if you leave it in any longer.”

And Patton gasps and bustles around, pulling the cookies from the oven, the redirection working perfectly.

Leave it shut and locked? Please. The door is open, he thinks. Perhaps it would be a disservice to both of them to pretend otherwise. Because he finds himself almost unbearably fond of Patton, these days, and guilty for feeling so. As soon as he has a moment alone, he has to shift into Patton’s form to get his emotions under control, to abate the itching tightness of his skin. Deceit isn’t made for these pleasant interactions, and Janus is about as tangible as mist, but he can hardly be Patton in front of Patton, so he wears a mask of scales and speaks past the acid burning in his throat.

The smart thing to do would be to stop. To retreat, to cut off these developing ties before they can do him any more harm. But for all the cognitive dissonance this is causing him, he doesn’t want to lose Patton’s friendship, his smiles and warmth. He’s not sure how he used to live without it.

The door is open so wide that it might as well be hanging off its hinges.

He can grin and bear it when it’s just Patton. For a while, it seems as though it will remain that way. Roman, at least, doesn’t want to see him, and when Virgil isn’t avoiding him, their interactions are far from cordial. And when he is tired, he can sink back into the dark side of the mindscape where Remus awaits him, and Remus, at least, has never expected him to be anything that he is not. He never calls him by his name, either, instead blurting out whatever obscene nickname pops into his head in the moment.

He has never been so glad of that.

But then, Logan invites him to play a game of chess, and for a full three minutes, he is overjoyed, because he loves to play chess, and Logan is the only one who could possibly give him a challenge, and the fact that Logan voluntarily wants to spend time with him is nothing short of amazing. The euphoria lasts until the board is set and they are facing each other, and he catches himself just before shapeshifting into Logan’s form. And he remembers: he has only ever played chess as Logan, learned to play in the first place so as to better imitate Logan. He has played against everyone in the mindscape but Logan at one point or another, providing a distraction and logical advice when Logan himself was unavailable, and none of them were any the wiser as to just who commanded the opposing set of pieces.

Except Remus, but he just thought it was funny.

It is all he can do to focus on the game. All he can do to put up a decent showing, though he loses. All he can do to prevent himself from mirroring Logan’s mannerisms by mistake, out of habit.

He doesn’t know how to do this as Janus. His face is frozen, but his hands are fidgeting, seeking release. Normally, he would copy Logan’s calm, his professionalism, but he can’t do that when Logan is sitting right across from him, sure to notice anything odd or out of place.

“It was a good game, Janus,” Logan says when they are done, and he wants to scream, because Janus doesn’t belong here either, doesn’t belong sitting by a chessboard. That has always been Logan’s place, and it disturbs him somewhere deep inside to be playing Logan’s game, wearing Deceit’s face, being called Janus. So much so that once the game is completed, he retreats to his room and stays there for a week, refusing to answer the door.

It should help. He is not Janus often, but when he is, it is here, in the sanctuary of his own room, his own bed.

It doesn’t help. If anything, it unsettles him even more, because the lines that hold his identities apart have been blurred so far that he spends the entire week uncomfortable in his skin, unsure of who he’s trying to be at any given moment. He shifts into the others, stares at their reflections in the mirror, but that doesn’t make things any better.

He needs help. He has to admit that, at this point. And there’s only one other he can think of to go to, only one other who might have experienced anything close to this tailspin.

He knocks on Virgil’s door.

Virgil opens it promptly enough, though his expression morphs from neutral to pissed off immediately upon seeing him. “Fuck off,” he snaps, and slams the door shut in his face.

He knocks again. And when he gets no reply, he keeps knocking, knocking and knocking and knocking.

“Don’t worry, I definitely couldn’t do this all day,” he calls airily, and Virgil jerks the door open again, face now firmly set in incandescent rage.

“What the fuck do you want?” he spits, all nerves and anger, all fight and no flight at all.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks.

Virgil stares at him, wordless, eyes narrow. And then, he holds the door open, allowing him to step inside.

“Make it quick,” he bites out, closing the door behind him. “What the hell do you think you and I have to discuss?”

He raises an eyebrow at that, because really? They have everything to discuss, and the longer they put it off, the more difficult it will be to start. Their relationship as it stands now is untenable; left to rot much longer, and it will begin to actively harm Thomas, which is something he absolutely cannot allow.

But that is not what he is here for.

“For both of our sakes, I won’t answer that,” he says. “I just have a question for you.”

Virgil glares. In his hoodie sleeves, his hands are balled into shaking fists. It hurts in an odd sort of way, to see how much he hates him. “Then ask it and leave,” he says, his voice threaded with trepidation. He already knows that he won’t like what he hears.

Well. That makes two of them. He knows he isn’t going to like asking this question.

“After you first told the others your name,” he says, “how long did it take for you to like hearing it?”

He has the dubious pleasure of seeing shock, pure and unfiltered, pass across Virgil’s face.

“How long--” Virgil starts. “What are you even--? I don’t know, I've never thought about it. I… I never disliked hearing it. I mean, I told them in the first place because I trusted them.” A barb, though not an undeserved one. “It was weird, but I wouldn't have told them if I didn’t want them to know it. Why are you asking me that?”

It’s exactly the answer he didn’t want. He knew that Virgil wouldn’t understand what he is going through, that Virgil, at his core, is exactly what and who he appears to be, unlike him. But he hoped that there would have been an adjustment period, at least, that there was a time when Virgil, so used to being called by his function, deemed the monster under the bed, would have found it disturbing or at least unnerving to be named so casually.

“Absolutely no reason at all,” he says, and turns back to the door. “Thank you for your time.”

“Nuh-uh.” Virgil catches him by the arm, and he freezes. “You’re not leaving.”

He breathes out slowly, tries not to show his growing fear. The effects of Virgil’s room are beginning to take root, but in his heart of hearts, he knows that’s not the only reason for the erratic pounding of his pulse.

“Oh?” he says, and fights to keep the tremor from his voice. “I thought you wanted me to ask and leave? Do continue with the indecision, it never ceases to delight me.”

“No,” Virgil says, voice hard. “You don’t get to do that. Not until you tell me what the hell you’re talking about.”

He should never have come here. He draws on Deceit like a cloak, like armor to protect him, armor woven of sarcasm and misdirection and misplaced confidence. Be what he expects, and he will never see anything different; that is a lesson he learned years ago. But the persona is shaky, muted by his confusion and by the bleed-through of every other guise he’s ever adopted. To give ground in front of Virgil is like diving into shark-infested waters with an open wound, but the smoothness he seeks to emulate slips through his grasp.

“It’s a question I need answered,” he says. “No more than that.”

“Bullshit.” Virgil tugs on his arm, and despite himself, he turns his head to face him. There is something odd flickering behind the irritation in Virgil’s eyes, something strange in the tilt of his head that he cannot place. It puts him ill at ease; to be unable to read Virgil is inviting danger, especially in Virgil’s own territory. “If you don’t like them saying your name, then why did you tell them?”

Caught.

He can feel all the blood draining from his face. His vision tunnels, focusing on Virgil’s face, on the expression that is anger and something that cannot possibly be concern, because they burned their bridges far too thoroughly for that. His head throbs, his breathing hitching, and he knows that he needs to leave, now, before he spirals further, because showing weakness in front of another is reprehensible but far, far worse if that someone is Virgil--

“Janus!” Virgil says, alarm threading through his voice, and that is absolutely the last straw. He rips his arm from Virgil’s grasp and sinks directly out, falling through the mindscape until he is in his own room, gasping for breath. His pulse races, his heartbeat roaring in his ears, and when he turns to look in the mirror, he finds that he has wrapped himself in Virgil’s form as his fears threaten to overwhelm him, hoodie and eyeshadow and all.

He curls up on the floor and tries to remember how to breathe.

It takes a long time for him to calm himself, and when he manages to look up again, it is Patton staring back at him. He likes being Patton, likes it more than being any of the others, because Patton is warm and soft and for all his flaws, fundamentally good in a way that used to repulse him but no longer does. Being Patton feels like the closest thing to a hug that he will ever get.

He forces himself to shift again, forces himself into Deceit before stumbling from his room and into the commons. Remus is laying on the couch, half-naked, watching some gory anime and eating ice cream straight out of the carton. He pauses for a moment, watching him, taking comfort in the familiarity; everything changes, but Remus, at least, is a constant, like the north star if the north star showed its love by threatening violence at random intervals. For the briefest of seconds, he shifts into Remus and then back to Deceit again, and for once, feels steady.

Remus takes notice of him eventually, sitting up and baring his teeth in a grin.

“How’d it go with Virgey?” he asks.

He decides not to question how he knew where he was.

“Right, because I want to talk about it,” he grumbles. “Can’t you tell?” He strides over to the couch, keeping as much dignity intact as possible as he shoves at Remus’ legs until he moves them, providing room for him to sit. “What are we watching?”

“Parasyte,” Remus offers, but there is an odd tone in his voice. When he looks, he sees that Remus is watching him now, rather than the screen, and something in the strangely level gaze is discomfiting.

“What?” he snaps.

“Nothing,” Remus says, raising his hands. “Just, are you good? I mean, we can switch it to something you wanna watch, if you want. Like, uh, that one show where everyone’s dead? You like that one, right?”

“The Good Place,” he mutters. “No, that’s alright. You’d be bored to tears.”

Remus frowns, but doesn’t respond. It takes another full episode-- he thinks; they must be in the middle of the plot, because he has absolutely no idea what’s going on-- for him to speak again, which is strange in and of itself. A quiet Remus never bodes well, because a quiet Remus means that either he is hurting, or he is seriously contemplating hurting someone else. No jokes, no disgusting gags, just a desire to inflict pain for pain’s sake. It doesn’t happen often, but it is never pleasant when it does. All too often, it is Remus himself who becomes the victim of these tendencies, Remus who tears into his own flesh rather than harming another.

But then, the silence is broken, and he almost wishes that it weren’t.

“If something was wrong, you’d tell me, right, Dee?” Remus asks, and he swallows, hard.

“Of course,” he lies, and of course it is a lie, a lie hissed out between his teeth, because there is nothing that Remus can do about this, so what would be the point in telling him about it? Remus cares, even if he shows it in odd ways, and it would only hurt him to be presented with a problem that he can do nothing to solve.

“Good,” Remus says, settling back in. “‘Cause you know, if anybody was hurting you, I’d smash their skull in. Like a watermelon. Bits going everywhere. Hey, have you ever seen those videos of people crushing watermelons with their thighs? Do you think I could get someone to do that to my skull?” He shoves a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, speaking around it. “I bet it’d be real juicy.”

“I bet,” he murmurs. He doesn’t have the energy to respond further.

What is he supposed to say? He has no doubt that he could set Remus on any of the others easily; all it would take is a sentence, a white lie, and perhaps not even that. Oh, so-and-so was a dick to me, Remus, don’t you think they would like to be introduced to your mace? Remus would jump at the chance for a bit of sanctioned mayhem.

But no one is hurting him but himself. He wonders what Remus would do if he told him that. Could he get Remus to bash his head in, to hit him until whatever is broken in his brain comes loose? Or until he can’t feel anything at all anymore, and wouldn’t that just solve every one of his problems? No more confusion, no more angst, no more churning in his stomach whenever someone calls him by a name or a label that feels no more like his than any other.

The idea is more attractive than it should be.

He excuses himself not too much later, and Remus’ eyes bore into his back as he returns to his room, telling himself that it’s a strategic retreat, that he’s not running away.

He knows it for the lie it is, little though he wants to admit it to himself. And as he stands there in the center of his room, trying to decide whether it is worth it to continue with the day or if he should go to bed now, avoid the world for a little longer, his reflection in the mirror catches his eye, and he turns to stare at it. A face stares back, and he supposes that the face must be his, but he doesn’t feel like it. It looks as though it is mocking him, taunting him with his unreality.

He shudders and turns away, but the name rings in his head. Janus Janus Janus. A person he should know but that he can no longer find, even here. Once his room was a safe haven, but now it feels like a prison, trapping him between identities that he no longer knows how to escape.

He has his back to the mirror, but the reflection is still there, he knows, and a shiver creeps down his spine, filling him with something like anger and something like fear.

He turns off the lights.

Writing Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

Chapter Seven

Memories, Nostalgia And Secrets

Word Count: 3,176

Link to The Effects Of Family chapter collection

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The soft crinkling of the rain hit the grass and trees, and pattered against the window of the quiet Mindscape, making Janus think of days long past.

When they were all still one family. Before the split (and even for some time after), before the sides had names, before they properly understood their functions. Back when the only fighting they did was play fighting.

Before Patton worried so much, and faked his smiles a concerning amount of the time.

Before Virgil had anxiety attacks so very often, wracking his body till he couldn't breathe.

Before Roman and Remus built the wall, dividing the Imagination, splitting it in two like they had been, 'good' on one side and 'bad' on the other.

Before Logan drank so much coffee and lost so much sleep that he would semi-frequently get headaches.

And before Janus chose to become Deceit.

It made him think of when the twins would draw or tell stories (and bicker of course). When Virgil and Logan would read or tell each other about the latest cool thing they'd learned. And when Patton and Janus would bake and look after the others.

And here they were, almost just like old times; all six sides relaxing in the living room, quietly doing their own thing, making it increasingly difficult to keep the old memories away. Everything too reminiscent of days long forgotten, forgotten by everyone… but him.

Damn, he was really feeling nostalgic today.

Roman and Remus sat on the floor on the far side of the coffee table, doing something creative with paper. Virgil was scrolling through his phone, either reading or on Tumblr. Janus and Logan were reading their respective books. And Patton was staring into space, clearly thinking about something.

Logan sat to Janus' right, Patton to Janus' left, and Virgil to his far left, feet in Patton's lap.

Janus had to hand it to Roman, having a big u-shaped couch was definitely a good decision. Especially during movie nights when all six of them were piled onto the couch.

The comfortable quiet was finally broken by Roman. "Hey, random question, but have we ever done this before?"

"What, like deja vu?" Virgil asked, looking up from his phone.

"Well, yes but like… did we do this when we were younger? I don't specifically remember us doing that, but we must've with how strongly I can feel it."

Janus inhaled louder than was polite. How did Roman know? How could he possibly remember?!

"Aha!" Roman pointed at Janus. "We did!"

"No. We didn't. I don't know what you're talking about." Janus tried not to immediately follow his instinct to shrink back and slouch or run and hide.

"Ugh, I think I know what Princey's talking about. Kinda." Virgil scrunched up his nose. "It's like, I don't know, kinda like a faint memory, more the feelings that went with it than anything. I can't really grasp at the details without my head hurting."

"Hmm, interesting, I seem to be experiencing the same phenomenon. Only I don't recall the feelings, I can only remember what it sounded like. The scratches on paper, the flipping of pages." Logan closed his eyes. "The soft chatter of voices and sounds from the kitchen. Rain, against the glass window pane. And Janus… laughing? From the other room." Logan opened his eyes. "Sorry, that's all I can recall."

"Hmmm…" Roman frowned. "I guess we'll just have to piece it together ourselves if Janus won't help."

This was not something they should be messing with. Not if Janus was to keep the tolerance he'd stolen from them.

But he couldn't seem to say anything. He couldn't move, quite certain that if he tried, he'd fall apart and confess to his crimes.

He was frozen in place. Of course, right when he needed his silver tongue, it turned to lead, thick and heavy in his mouth.

"Hey, Pat? You doing okay?" Virgil lightly poked Patton with his foot from his perch on the back of the couch. "You've been awfully quiet."

Icy cold horror ran through Janus' veins, if they thought he was a conniving liar before, what would they think of him now.

"I… I can smell it. I— I think. Rain and cupcakes. Flowers. Something… something was slightly burned. Perhaps cookies. Yeah, co— cookies. Lemon ones. For… for Logan."

Dread was quickly pooling in Janus' stomach, forming a pit of anxiety, and kept him effectively pinned in place. He couldn't tell them now, even if he wanted to.

"I remember the warmth." Remus piped up, eyes glazed over from the attempt to remember.

Janus had forgotten Remus was even there, considering how unusually quiet he had been. The others seemed to have forgotten too with the way they looked over at him in surprise.

"Wh— what? What do you mean?" Patton asked, quickly sitting forward, staring at Remus desperately.

"Roman runs warm, always have. We… we would sit next to each other with our sides pressed together and I would… soak up the warmth. 'm always so cold. Tha'was the only time 'm warm."

What little focus Remus had was now gone, unfocused eyes boring into the carpet.

"Okay so if we all remember bits and pieces of it, then why the hell can't we remember all of it?!" Roman said, fidgeting agitatedly.

Janus flinched. "I… I don't think this is a good idea."

"You clearly know more than you're letting on…" It wasn't a question. Logan was trying to solve the puzzle, the one Janus didn't want revealed. But what choice did he have?

He couldn't keep it from them forever. As much as he wished he could. As much as he wished he had never agreed to help Patton do… that.

Virgil chewed his thumbnail nervously. "Wh— what happened? Why can't we remember? Jan, please." He looked away and pulled his arms tightly around himself. "I'm... scared."

Janus damn near lost what shreds of his composure he had left then and there. But he managed to keep himself together. He owned them at least that. He could cry later, in the privacy of his room.

"Before… before the—" Janus dragged two fingers down in an air quote, " 'Dark Sides', as we've dubbed, were sent away, we all… got along, a— and much better than you might remember because… because I made—" They waited with varying degrees of patience for Janus to collect himself.

"You made?" Patton urged, eyes wide with worry and partial recognition.

"I made… everyone forget. I made everyone forget so it wouldn't hurt so damn much when we had to leave. You can't miss someone if you don't care about them. If you don't remember how close you were. All the g— good times you h— had to— together." Janus put a hand over his mouth trying, and failing, to shove down the disgust he felt with himself.

"You… oh, oh." Patton tried to wipe the tears from under his glasses, but was only semi-successful. "Oh no. Oh God. Holy shit." They all let the swear word slip by, Patton usually being the only one who cared. It was certainly bad if Patton was swearing.

"It was my idea. It was, wasn't it? Wh— why?! Why would I d— do that?" Patton sobbed. "'m sorry! I'm so so sorry."

"Whoah, hey, Pat. I… I don't really know what's going on but we'll figure it out, okay? Together." Virgil placed a comforting hand on Patton's shoulder as Patton quietly hiccuped and sobbed.

Janus' stomach twisted horribly. This was all his fault. Why did he keep making mistakes over and over and over again? Mistakes that did nothing but hurt everyone.

"You—" Janus winced at how his voice seemed to echo through the silent room. "You did suggest i— it but you didn't mean it. I just… took it and ran. I never should've, should've… it was wr— wrong t— to do that."

"Yes bu— but I helped, Janus. I, oh it's all coming back to me. Ne— neither of us co— could've done it by ourse— selves. We did it to— together so it's our… no, it's not Ja— Janus' fault…

"It's my fault! It's all my fault." Patton buried his face in his hands, dissolving into a mess of sobs and a string of barely comprehensible apologies.

There wasn't much Janus could do. Not when Patton's breathing was coming out in whooping gasps, and his cheeks couldn't be more soaked. Not when Janus was also fighting to get a hold of himself, when he couldn't get himself to do anything, even as his concern for Patton steadily grew.

He couldn't do anything, for if he tried to provide any comfort right now, he had the strong suspicion that it would be unwanted. After all, this whole thing was his fault.

Patton was, no doubt, disgusted by Janus. Why would he want help from someone he despised?

Janus briefly noticed Virgil looking worried for Patton, like he wanted to comfort him, but was conflicted.

Logan looked about as lost as to what to do as Janus was.

When Patton's sobs had finally quieted to the occasion sniffle, he finally spoke, "H— hey, Janus?"

"Yes, Patton?" Janus' already high nerves spiked even more. His heart was beating so fast and loud that he could actually hear it thumping in his chest.

"Why… why couldn't I remember? I… I kinda, um, I think I know b— but…"

"After… afterwards you…" Janus sighed, "you weren't taking it well. Which of course was very reasonable considering what— what we'd just done. But I c— couldn't— just leave you like that. I couldn't just leave you w— with all that guilt."

"No. No, you didn't—" Virgil whispered.

"Yes, I… I did." Janus fiddled with his gloves.

"Did…" Patton's voice was the quietest Janus had ever heard it. "Did I a— ask for it? Did… I ask for you to erase m— my memories?" His voice wasn't accusatory, and Janus knew he would only blame himself worse if the answer was 'yes' rather than 'no'.

As much as it hurt, and even though this time tomorrow he very well could be all alone, he needed to get the truth out there. He needed to make sure Patton knew who's fault it was: Janus'.

"No." Janus closed his eyes, suddenly feeling too overwhelmed to look at the horror and disgust that was no doubt on their faces. "You didn't ask f— for me to suppress your m— memories. I m— made that decision o— on my own."

The crushing silence left in the wake of his answer was only broken by a soft gasp and stifled sob, and Janus couldn't help but grimace.

"I understand i— if this is unforgivable. I took Patton's comment of how it would 'be better if they d— didn't remember caring about each other' and actually made it r— reality. But I also... after c— convincing Patton to help me erase e— everyone's memories, I e— erased your memory, Patton. And without your k— knowledge or consent."

Janus took a deep breath, steeling himself as much as possible, before continuing, "No apology w— would ever possibly cover this, no amount of 'sorry's and no matter how genuine, could ever make up for what I've done, so I won't try." Janus finally opened his eyes, only to stare at his hands to avoid everyone staring at him.

"I won't make you forgive me. Or talk to me… o— or let me stay. You… can be as angry as you want. You can tell me to leave and never come back. You can hate me. That's fine. I'll understand. It's justified. I'll leave without a fuss." And oh, fuck. His vision was blurring again, tears welling up and spilling down, the aching in his head only growing worse.

There was a brief pause as Janus let his words sink in. But, after hearing several loud... sobs? Janus looked up in surprise, they were crying. They were all crying. Why…

It didn't look out of relief but like they were upset. Had he somehow made them feel guilty?

"I wasn't trying to… get pity points or something!" Janus exclaimed. "I was being serious."

"We know, you jerk. That's why we're crying," Roman all but sobbed.

Suddenly Janus had an armful of Patton, his head tucked under Janus' chin. Janus' eyes widened in alarm but he quickly began rubbing circles with one hand in Patton's back and ran his other hand through Patton's hair.

"P— Patton? W— what are you doing?"

Janus tried to gently maneuver Patton off of his lap, but the deeply wounded noise Patton made had Janus quickly reversing course, feeling as if his heart would actually shatter if he heard it again.

Of course, he was very perplexed as to why everyone was reacting this way, but with Patton such a warm and heavy weight in his lap, he couldn't find it in himself to protest.

Brain whirring to catch up and figure out why everyone was acting like this. But it was growing increasingly difficult as he was turning to mush under Patton.

"I— I'm h— hugging you, K— Kiddo."

"I… can see that. W— why though?"

"B— because y— you said some v— very sad a— and untrue s— stuff. And b— because you n— need it."

"O— oh."

Roman was suddenly on Janus' right. Hadn't Logan just been there?

Ah, wait, Janus could faintly hear Logan talking in hushed tones to Remus. Good, Remus undoubtedly needed it.

Virgil was still on Janus' left, although now he was half hugging Patton, who was pressed in between them. Janus twisting to keep him pressed against Janus' chest, but didn't find it difficult, especially as Patton still tightly clung to Janus.

"We aren't going to make you leave. We want you to stay." Roman said it with such conviction, his eyes shining, that for a second, Janus almost believed him.

But how long would that last?

He'd have to leave eventually. There was no way he'd stay in their favour forever. They wouldn't want him to be there forever.

He was just a thorn in their aching side, doomed to be inevitably removed.

"Yeah, Jan. It's not… like half bad having you around again." Virgil sighed. "We… don't want you to leave. Even though you and Pat made a mistake, a— a big one, we— I don't want you to… to leave...

"And yeah, we might need a little while to process everything and for things to go back to like… ya know, normal, but like, we want you around. So… stay. Please stay." Virgil sighed. "Sorry I'm like, bad at words but… but yeah. But that's… yeah, that's what I wanted to say."

"I a— agree with our Little Emo." Roman hesitantly put his hand on Janus' shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Give us a little time, but… don't go. I'd… I'd miss you. S— so stick around, okay?"

"I— I… um." Janus wiped under his eyes furiously before returning his hand to its previous place on Patton's back. "Okay. R— right."

"It wasn't… the best t— thing," Patton finally spoke up, voice muffled by Janus' clothing. "But we d— did what we... what I thought w— was right. And w— we aren't gonna ever d— do it a— again."

Janus hummed and pressed a small kiss to the top of Patton's head. "Never again," Janus softly promised.

As deep as he was filled with shame and regret, he was equally filled with some sort of twisted relief. Such appreciation that he couldn't help but gently sigh in relief.

They would tolerate him, even if only for a little while longer.

And if he was careful, perhaps even longer than that.

"Well that was… certainly more emotional than I was expecting us to go through today. Especially when y'all suggested we should have a nice, quiet, relaxing day," Virgil muttered.

Janus couldn't help but agree.

...

They sat like that for quite a while, rain only falling heavier than before, and the sky outside darkening as the clouds went from light grey to dark grey, nearly black.

At some point, they had become one big, warm cuddle pile, limbs all half tangled together.

As nice as it was, and as much as he yearned for it to last forever, Janus couldn't help but think about when this would be over.

Well... over for him anyway.

He had no doubt they would still continue doing things like this, but soon they'd want him to leave, whether they told him directly or not.

He didn't have a choice. He was always going to be the outsider, and there was nothing he could do about that. But despite that, at least for now, he could still be the observer.

It allowed him to watch everyone rather closely, without getting too emotionally involved or bothering them too much.

His job was certainly a lot better like this. Hard but a lot easier when compared to how nigh impossible it'd been in the past. When he could only work in the shadows because they hated him.

Even though this wouldn't last forever, this… this truly more than amazing tolerance, it was still nice to have that, if only for a time.

But after they were done with him, so fed up with him they'd make him leave, it would be more difficult. More difficult to always be watching them from afar.

Not being close enough to actually be able to talk them into doing the best thing. Not just for Thomas' sake, but for theirs too.

They were important, even though their self-loathing said otherwise.

Janus couldn't help but hope he'd be allowed to stay around long enough to make them believe their importance. Or if not, at least long enough to start them down that way...

Eventually, everyone, except Janus, who was quite content to just lay there all afternoon, began to grow restless, one by one getting up to grab various projects.

Everyone stayed in the living room though, and despite them all not touching anymore, there was still a somewhat cozy and familiar atmosphere about them.

Despite the fairly comfortable feeling in the air, there was still some remaining tension from the newly spilled secret. But even so…

Even so… everyone seemed to be leaving the confusing feelings for a different time, choosing to instead enjoy themselves.

Remus and Roman fought over the crayons (no more coloured pencils after the stabbing incident of '09).

Logan still told Virgil fun facts about deep-sea creatures (and Remus throwing in some not-so-fun ones).

Patton embroidered (with some design input from Roman), and comforted Virgil ('Aww, it's okay, Kiddo! A giant tentacle monster isn't going to attack you while you sleep. Remus is just tryina scare you.').

Janus and Logan surveyed the disaster that used to be the living room (seeing as it was now covered in art supplies of various sorts), and amusedly watched their antics.

And for a moment, just the one, Janus could pretend it was still back before they grew up, before life got complicated and messy.

He could pretend he was still a part of their family.

-

Next

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

Soulmate Shenanigans Five: The Order Of The Shenanigans

Hey! Guess who has returned? 

Me!

Just the March doing her prompt writing thing, as seen on previous episodes :)

Parts one, two, three, and four here!

Prompt #5

Any intense emotions your soulmate feels you will also experience

Warnings for kidnapping mention and gifted kid “potential” mention

Okay. Not going to lie, I kind of tweaked the concept, but I like how it turned out. The idea of the sides having sides in human AUs has been in my brain, and now it’s in yours!

World Building

At first, the symptoms of having a soulmate was seen as symptoms of witchcraft

It was a reasonable assumption to make, as seeing into someone’s head and emotions wasn’t really a thing that humans did. 

However, as the population grew and communication across the globe became a thing, the instances of people finding their soulmates grew as well, and not everyone could be a witch (or, if they were, being a witch was simply being human).

It took a while for the culture around soulmates to shift, but shift it did, and people eventually figured out “Oh, that person is my soulmate, not my eternal enemy that I need to destroy via my demonic powers, which I totally have”

But people’s minds are kind of a lot, and it’s hard to process it all.

So, in modern day, people have learned to separate the pieces of their soulmate’s personality that they get bombarded with into different pieces, or sides

The sides are Logic, Morality/Emotions, Creativity (with there sometimes being a divide between dark and light), Self-Preservation, and Anxiety.

Characters

Roman: Roman is looking forward to meeting his soulmate so much!

Just...later.

When he’s a famous writer and people know about him and he’s evened out his insecurities and he deserves them!

Being perfect for them is going to take work, but most people meet their soulmates over 30, so he’s got at least fifteen years to prepare.

Until then, he was working on his fantasy story and dreaming of the day he’d get published or get the lead in a school play.

The writing club had been his idea, so you could say that everything that happens in the story was his fault. He’d just wanted to be around people who liked the same things he liked!

Roman’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Note: Names are hard. Aaaagh.

Magnus, his creativity, romance, passion, etcetera. Magnus is really the one who calls the shots around here. He’s just as goofy of a fifteen year old (if not more) as Roman, but he has the unenviable position of running a mind palace and being the ego of someone who hates himself.

This guy just wants to listen to Hamilton, but noooo, he had to have an evil reflection of himself and self-worth issues.

The Count, his self-preservation and pretty much Roman’s inner Roxie Hart/Velma Kelly. Randomly suggests poisoning their mortal enemies a lot (note: they don’t have mortal enemies). 

The most like canon Janus out of any of the self preservations, except instead of “we live in a society” it’s more “fuck it, we’re going to be *famous*!”

The other sides will pay him to stop saying, “that’s showbiz”

The Medic, his morality and emotions. Sort of has a medieval healer thing going on (which means herbs in a satchel, not plague doctor mask).

A lovely person on his own, but when he and The Guard team up, it’s ✨Guilt time!✨

He has the question of “Am I a terrible person?” on his hands, so...good luck to him. He’s trying to hold the five of them into a cohesive unit, but it’s hard!

The Guard, his fears and anxious thoughts. He has a shield and a spear, and is kind of dressed like a (dark and stormy) knight.

No one particularly likes him, but it’s his job to recognize The Shadow, so they all need him.

He hangs around on the outskirts of the mindscape, ever vigilant.

The Alchemist, his logic. No one listens to the voice of reason in this house. Al isn’t really a fan of this, and being Roman’s logic, he thinks that if he can find a way to prove himself it’ll turn out okay.

The Shadow, everything Magnus discarded. You could call him dark creativity, but he’s a lot more. 

They used to call him Rex, when they were kids.

Patton: Patton isn’t thrilled with having to move to a new school, but he’s keeping a positive attitude

The new town is creepy and making friends is harder than he thought, and he just wants to right a sappy love story about ghosts without feeling sad.

But if he keeps his chin up, he knows it’ll all be fine!

And hey, maybe he’ll find people who like him in this writing club thing!

Patton’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have: 

Patrick, his morality and emotions. Patrick feels all of the loneliness and desperation that Patton feels daily, but pretends he doesn’t feel it, since he has to be there for them!

Them meaning his family, meaning the rest of Patton’s mind, as well as Patton, since he’s kind of an older brother/role model to the guy.

Covering the full scope of human emotions isn’t great when the other half of your job is enforcing the sense of right and wrong (and the general consensus in Patton’s head is showing negative emotions = burden = wrong).

None of them can cook, but that won’t stop him from trying!

The Canary, his fears and anxious thoughts. Constantly popping up to remind everyone that they’re failing. It’s kind of his job.

Stress plays the piano when things get to be too much.

The Gardener, his creativity, romance, and passion. Conjures flowers a lot. Projects wishes for a soulmate into the sappy ghost love story, which he’s mostly in charge of writing.

Hasn’t split yet, but that’s mostly because nearly all of Patton’s negative impulses that would be considered “dark creativity” already come from The Miser.

Dr. Picani, his logical side. Knows everything about cartoons, and tries to be professional, but a complete sweetheart.

Secretly knows his name is Emile, but is waiting for the best moment to tell everyone.

The Miser, his self-preservation and deceitful side. No one’s a fan of him. Patrick is kind of his mortal nemesis (in the sense that Patrick claimed the title and he just kind of went along with it?)

Everyone else in the Pattonsphere refuses to curse, but he says many a “fuck” with ease

Trying to protect The Gardener from splitting by taking responsibility for most of the things a dark creativity would do.

Virgil: Virgil just didn’t want to join the yearbook committee. 

It was irrational, maybe, to have a deep rooted hatred of the yearbook committee. 

They were just trying to categorize things, design pages-it wasn’t malicious! 

And yet, being in that classroom and seeing Amelia’s dead eyes and smile near rang every alarm bell in his system, so he needed a way out this year.

His parents weren’t going to let him not choose an activity, so he flipped a coin and ended up in some writing club.

He came into the club determined to fake some pretentious poetry about death. Just because they say the club’s about expression or whatever doesn’t mean that they can know anything about his comics.

Virgil’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have: 

Dante, his fears and anxious thoughts. Dante has too many eyes. Dante is lowkey a cryptid, but he’s sadly a cryptid in charge of life decisions.

There’s no way to dance around it. Dante’s a spider-human hybrid.

Dante would prefer they never be perceived by anyone for anything. He does not want to be seen, he does not want to be heard, he does not want to be perceived. Period. 

But he’s a very conspicuous spider-human hybrid. 

The Competent One, The One Who Can Actually Do Math, Steve, whatever you want to call him, he’s Virgil’s logical side.

His theories are just....

See that image? That kind of sums up his characterization.

Parker, his creativity, romance, and heroic side. He’s the one who got them obsessed with comic books, and is trying to write his own. If people don’t like the comics, he’ll probably just start screaming and never stop

He gets the purple eyeshadow!

Remy, his self-preservation. He mainly just wants Virgil to just...rest

Nap. Sleep. Take a self-care day. This is Remy’s goal.

Also to continue to have the most style out of anyone in the Virgilsphere

Remy has a talent for never being anywhere at the right time, and then popping up at the worst moments, caffeine in hand.

Tam, his morality and emotions. The most into the emo phase out of any of them, since he feels all angst!

Sometimes just hovers and screams. Everyone’s pretty used to this.

Logan: Logan was trying to ignore the things he’d seen

Logan was a scientific guy. He knew that magic wasn’t real, that the fae were just stories.

So, clearly, the nightmarish things he’d seen that night were just that: nightmares. Just nightmares caused by stress over his academic struggles.

That was the immediate problem at hand: academic struggles. Logan was always the top of his class his whole life, and words like “gifted” were thrown around. Lately, however, things have been harder to keep up with and pay attention to, and it’s a bit of a mess.

Logan joined the writing club because he thought it might help him with English class, and he did like speculative fiction.

But, more importantly, he joined it because he thought it would be a simple task he could easily ace, so he wouldn’t have to keep being told that he wasn’t trying.

Logan’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Mimir, his logical side. Mimir is pushing himself to take care of all academic matters and keep Logan afloat.

Mimir is over his head, but doesn’t really have anyone to talk to (or so he thinks), so he’s just putting Warby Parkers over his panic and faking cold distance to make everyone think he’s doing okay.

Alastor, his moral side. Half of his job is repressing Logan’s emotions, which isn’t a great thing to be doing, but he think he’s doing it for a good reason.

Kinda strict and blaming Mimir for everything going wrong. He does care about the others, he’s just bad at showing it.

Cassandros, his fears and anxious thoughts. 

This dude-

He’s basically just [puts feet on coffee table] “Hey, did you know everyone hates us?? I made a PowerPoint that proves it!”

He’ll get character development, though.

The Chessmaster, his overdramatic self-preservation.

Tries to be clever, walks into walls.

The Detective, his creative and fanciful side. He wants to swashbuckle, but instead he’s restrained to geometry. 

But now he has a project in the writing club! He has something to do!

And The Mad Scientist is trying to ruin it!

The Mad Scientist, Logan’s dark creativity.

They never used to care about the creative side one way or another. There was no need to make a dark side when it was already looked down upon.

Now, however, there are things in Logan’s mind that he’s trying not to think about, and so the Mad Scientist has joined the fray.

The Actual Plot

This is going to be an actual fic that I write. So, I’m not going to fill out the entire plot here.

I can, however say a few of the plot lines

Plot One: Everyone’s sides are in a state of constant screaming and must learn to communicate.

They also need to let their main guys figure out they have soulmates, because they’re all repressing that information for their own reasons.

Plot Two: LAMP in a writing club, falling in love and being disturbed by first drafts!

Plot Three: The fae are kidnapping people.

And everyone needs to get them to Stop.

I guess you could call this a trailer??

I JUST REALLY LIKE THIS IDEA

[alchemist-shizun]

Condemned

This isn’t a fic, I’m not sure whether this is a prompt either, but I listened to the song “Condannati” by Riccardo Cocciante from the italian version of the musical Notre Dame de Paris and it fueled in me a little story. So in bold you will see the song lyrics (badly translated oof) and between parenthesis I’ll let you in on my little daydream in regards to the various lyric lines, hope this somewhat makes sense.

I turned, I rebelled, I refused

[Stuff was starting to go wrong. Nobody knew where Thomas's bad actions came from, and he was pretty young, so it was decided to start analyzing each side's development and ultimately to cast away the ones with bad intentions. Trick was against this because it didn't sound like a good idea at all in his opinion, thus rebelling and refusing their decision.]

I bowed down, I humiliated myself, I bent, I broke

[Of course his were empty words, sides started to question him and tear down his arguments with suspiciousness, leaving him in humiliation as he had to swallow his pride and agree with them.]

That skin of yours that isn't prettier than mine

[When it was decided Trick was bad, he was classified as a dark side and the scales started to crawl on his skin until part of his face and body was covered in them. They named him Deceit.] 

That voice of mine that can't say that it's yours

[This line speaks for itself. The others are making drastic decisions in the name of everyone, despite not all of them agreeing.]

The city that hurts me here is yours

[The mindscape gets divided into two parts, between light and dark sides, thus creating two metaphorical different cities, two different lands that remind each other of their places and, of course, hurt the ones that have been cast as inherently bad.]

How do you make a world where there's no one who's left out? How do you make a world without poverty and borders?

[Deceit wonders if there's a way out of all of this, but he is aware of the fact that it's going to take so much time before he's able to have him and the other outcasts stand for themselves. So far, it is only a hypothesis.]

I swerved, I lost myself, I ripped myself, I damned myself

[Time after, Deceit has tried to come to terms with his condition, trying to convince himself that was for the best and he really was a bad feature to discard and maybe, maybe they were all right, all those people in the world who claimed they could have lived better off without all those negative functions. Yet, it didn't help his mental stability, which affected Thomas too in a part of his early life. He decided to stop that train of thought right after.]

I mangled myself, I distressed, I choked, I teared up

[This was around the moment in which king creativity noticed the evergrowing weight of the whole wrong/right ordeal on his shoulders, as he well knew how creativity itself was a grey area, where you could come up with both the grossest stuff or the most enchanting idea. The split took place as soon as the contrast between these two sides of him felt too unbearable.]

Homeland of mine, heart of mine, disease of farewell

[Clearly, Remus was sent to the dark sides' part of the mindscape, the imagination was put on hold until both Roman and Remus would have their own separate parts without interacting with each other. They both felt disoriented and heartbroken about leaving the place they spent most of their time in.]

And your homeland is death that lives in me

[In addition, the whole already split light and dark sides, despite being there when the king was present, felt restraining, as the King was in a good relationship with all of the sides, both Creativities felt like they didnn't belong anywhere they go.]

Warmth of mine that encountered the air that froze it

[And now we have Remus, who once could create freely, and now has limits to his own creative influence on Thomas. It now all feels like a cold place.]

[chorus]

I rebelled, I turned, I refused

[Calling back the first line, this time it's the dark sides finally showing themselves and fighting back for their rightful spots just as important as any other side. Hence, SvS and DWIT.]

A world that humiliated me, bent me, broke me. Condemned me.

[This line just makes me think of one word: resentment. I'll leave the conclusion to your imagination.]

[vincent-frankenstein]

Sugared Strawberries

inspired by this prompt by the amazing, talented, wonderful @aliferous-ly !!! thanks for letting me write this bro i had a BLAST

Summary: Before — before there was a divide between the light and dark sides, before the mindscape split in two, before Virgil was alone — Patton made sugared strawberries. Virgil loved them, not for the taste but for the memories they made, his family gathered in the kitchen around him, love and light and warmth.

Then he became Anxiety, and everything changed. Patton stopped making sugared strawberries.

But redemption brings a lot of things — some new and some old and some so familiar he can barely stand it. When he walks into the kitchen one morning to find Patton covered in sugar, a tray of strawberries in his hands, he finally realizes:

He has a family again.

Pairings: platonic LAMP, platonic moxiety, just fambly feels

Warnings: deceit, remus/the duke, angst and self-hatred

Gen Taglist: @joygaytrash @ruh-roh-emer-has-an-account @aliferous-ly @im-crunchie @triton-bear @emiisanidiot @jemthebookworm

Virgil didn’t remember much about his childhood.

That whole thing about childhood mental illnesses causing memory problems? He was a childhood mental illness. That held doubly true for him. He remembered parts, bits and pieces, and knew of others, a patchwork mess of information given to him by the others that he couldn’t even trust, fully, because more than half had been stitched together by Deceit himself.

He knew that there hadn’t been such a divide between the light sides and the Others, once. He knew that there had been sleepovers and movie nights and birthday parties, that they’d all been a family, each of them, light and dark and everything in between. Patton still had pictures hanging in his room; Deceit in a snake onesie, wrapped in blankets, and Remus with a tiny, drawn-on mustache, and himself, open and smiling and unafraid, surrounded by love.

He knew that, the moment Thomas hit middle school, everything changed forever. The Great Schism, Roman called it, ignoring Logan’s lectures on the historical and religious significance of the title. A divide, a split, cleaving one world into two.

He knew that everything changed the moment Caution became Anxiety.

Because that was when the world went from scary to bad wrong terrifying — and that was when he decided he had to keep Thomas from it all, keep Thomas safe, no matter what. That was when Thomas realized some parts of his personality weren’t “good,” and they woke up to find the mindscape split in two. 

He didn’t remember much from before that moment, that split — but there was one memory he refused to forget, one that you couldn’t pry from his cold, dead fingers: sugared strawberries.

They had been Patton’s favorite, way back when. He used to gather all the sides in the kitchen and present them like they were the greatest treasure on earth, crystalline berries as valuable as gold. Roman — just Imagination back then, a tiny spitfire in a Disney prince Halloween costume — even made up a song for them; he’d dance around the kitchen, twirling any sides unlucky enough to be within reach.

Virgil would stand in the doorway, shoving as many strawberries as he could into his mouth at once. Patton would laugh, handing him more and more. “They’re not going anywhere, kiddo, no need to rush!” he’d say.

Then the Schism happened.

Patton stopped making sugared strawberries.

Virgil remembered what came after with all the clarity he wished he had for the memories before. The cold, the quiet, the emptiness that came with being banished to the dark side of the mindscape. Deceit grew distant, furious, and blamed Patton with all his might. “He’s right and wrong, Anxiety!” he used to rant, every opportunity he got, and he’d lie and say the tears pooling in his eyes were from fury, not sorrow. “Sure, he’s definitely not the cause of Thomas thinking we’re wrong.”

And Virgil — Anxiety couldn’t, couldn’t believe that Patton would do such a thing. He’d always been so… so nice. Even when Anxiety’s warnings turned from cautious to borderline cruel, he’d always been patient and loving and kind. Unless he was faking it — maybe he was, maybe he’d been faking it the whole time, sunshine and sugared strawberries to hide hatred for a side that he didn’t need anymore, didn’t want anymore — and suddenly Anxiety believed, believed with all his heart that he was wrong and Patton had done it on purpose.

The worst part was that Anxiety couldn’t even blame him.

The Others tried, for a while, to maintain the same level of warmth they’d had before — but they just weren’t built for that sort of thing. After all, how could something so wrong pretend to be right? Even Deceit couldn’t manage that for long. It was too hard to stave off the cold and the dark, and the creeping feeling of wrong that never quite left them alone; eventually they just gave up.

Anxiety retreated into himself. He ignored Deceit’s futile attempts at keeping them together, and avoided Remus like the plague — without his brother there to reign him in, the Duke became unhinged, distant, terrifying in the worst kind of way — and pretended like he didn’t care. Like he didn’t miss the warmth, the happiness, that he knew he’d once had. 

But he did. It was like a part of him had been torn away, and he ached with every memory that faded, every bit of warmth he lost. He missed watching movies with Imagination and listening to Curiosity read aloud, and he missed missed missed Patton’s hugs, and his smile, and —

He missed sugared strawberries.

Years passed. Curiosity became Logic and then became Logan; Imagination became Creativity and then Roman. The world became bigger, scarier, as Thomas was thrust into adulthood, and Anxiety forwent any and all chances of being loved in favor of being feared. He had to protect the one thing that still mattered to him. And if that meant he had to be too scary to ignore, then… so be it.

Sometimes he snuck down into the common room, late at night, and tried to recreate the sugared strawberries. He never could. Patton had made them with love — and Anxiety, he didn’t have any of that left to give. They never tasted the same. He always got it wrong.

Eventually, he stopped trying.

He just didn’t see the point. Even if he got the recipe right — which he never, never would — he’d still be alone. They’d never taste exactly as he remembered if they didn’t come with a bright grin from Patton, or a one-armed hug from Roman as he danced around the kitchen, or the warmth and light and happiness he knew he’d never get again. 

That was just the way things were. He was Anxiety — a villain, a dark side, an Other, hated by every person he’d once loved, hated by the one person he was supposed to protect. There was nothing he could do to fix that. There was nothing he could do to change that.

The one thing he could do was leave.

And then — to his great, great surprise — he was proven wrong. Things changed. Anxiety became Virgil and Virgil became wanted, needed, loved in ways he hadn’t thought possible. He woke one morning to find that his room was back in the light side; that instead of the silence he’d grown so used to, he could hear Roman and Logan playfully arguing downstairs, and Patton singing to himself as he bustled around the kitchen. 

He made sure to wipe the stupid smile off his face before he went downstairs. He couldn’t let them see how happy they made him. That would ruin his Aesthetic™.

“Virgil!” Roman cried when he appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Virgil, would you please tell nerdmione over here to turn off his nerd show so I can watch Lilo and Stitch?”

“Roman, you have a television in your room,” Logan interrupted before Virgil could speak, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I am not turning off my documentary so you can watch your nonsensical Disney movie for the hundredth time.”

“‘Nonsensical?’ How dare you! Lilo and Stitch is a cinematic masterpiece! And I’ll have you know, I’ve seen it at least three-hundred times!” Roman scoffed, offended. “Besides, you’re all down here and my room is up there! I want to watch it here.”

“Then you will have to wait.” Logan shot Virgil a look — can you believe this guy? he said with a quirk of his brow — and Virgil rolled his eyes, a fond smirk slipping into place. “Why don’t you try watching this with me? Maybe you’ll learn something. Newton knows you need it.”

“B-to-the-oring!” Roman scoffed, rolling his eyes and throwing his whole body into the action, hip jutting out to the side. Then he blinked. “Wait, what was that last bit?”

Virgil snickered into the back of his hand and moved on into the kitchen, where he leaned against the doorway, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Patton stood at the counter, bouncing in place to the happy tune he hummed as he made… something. Virgil couldn’t see past him. “Morning, Pat,” he said, and Patton whirled around, his bright smile lighting up the whole room.

“Virgil!” he said happily, beaming. “G’morning, kiddo! How’re ya doin’?” His hands were covered in something white and powdery; it fluttered to the floor around him like snow as he flapped while he talked. Virgil shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“I’m alive,” he said. “You?”

“I’m doin’ great!” he said. “Making a certain sweet surprise for someone I love berry much.” He winked, giggled, and turned back to whatever it was he was making. Virgil blinked, pushing away from the wall to go look over Patton’s shoulder, but before he could Patton turned around, holding a tray laden with small berries.

Virgil forgot how to breathe.

“I haven’t made these in forever,” Patton said, his grin warm and welcoming, “but I remembered how much you used to love ‘em, and I figured I’d whip a couple up to celebrate your growth! To let you seed how berry proud I am of you.”

“Oh,” Virgil managed, and he knew he should have said more, he knew he should do something, but he’d forgotten how to exist in the face of something he’d wanted, needed, for so so long. Sugared strawberries. Patton had made sugared strawberries — for him, Patton made sugared strawberries for him, and he knew he’d been accepted but it hadn’t hit him, really, until that moment. 

He had a family again.

“Kiddo?” Patton’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m — I’m good,” he said, and meant so much by it that he almost choked. “I mean — I’m —”

Shit shit shit — he swiped at his eyes with his sleeve and looked away, face burning. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes faster than he could wipe them away. Patton made a small noise of understanding and put the tray back on the counter, rushing forward to scoop Virgil into a hug.

And that was too much. The dam broke, and suddenly he was sobbing into Patton’s shoulder, even as every instinct in him screamed at him to stop, stop showing them how much it means to you, stop giving them power. Patton rubbed soft circles across his back and whispered comfort into his ear. “I’ve gotcha,” he said, softer than Virgil had ever heard him. “It’s okay. It’s all okay.”

Virgil heard Logan and Roman come into the kitchen and he clutched the back of Patton’s shirt harder, burying his face in his shoulder. He couldn’t — couldn’t face them, couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t push away the burning hope eating through his lungs, try as he might. He had a family again. He had a family again. The thought refused to stop running through his mind, a mantra, neverending. He had a family again.

Eventually, finally, the tears slowed. He could breathe again. He pushed out of Patton’s embrace and swiped his sleeve across his face, cheeks burning bright red. “Sorry,” he managed, his voice gruff. “I’ll just — I’ll just go —”

“Oh no you don’t, Green Gay,” Roman said, blocking the doorway. “We’re having an emotional moment here!”

“Ew,” Logan and Virgil said in unison. 

“Kiddo, it’s okay,” Patton said gently, setting a sugary hand on his shoulder. “You’re safe here.”

“Right — yeah.” Virgil cleared his throat, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. He searched the room for something, anything to say to break the tension building in his chest. “You… you got sugar on my hoodie.”

Patton giggled. “Now it matches your sweet personality!”

“Lies and slander,” Virgil said. “I’m not sweet.”

“Falsehood,” Logan said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re covered in sugar.”

“That’s —” Virgil cut himself off, pressing his lips into a thin line to keep from smiling. “Yep.”

Roman slung an arm over his shoulder, squeezing him in a one-armed hug, and Patton grabbed the tray. “You want some?” he asked with a warm smile, as Roman reached over and grabbed a handful.

And Virgil took a breath and reached forward, gathering a pile of strawberries in his hand. He shoved them into his mouth and nearly burst into tears again at the taste — or, rather, at the memories it invoked, at the warmth that once again surrounded him, enveloped him, filled him. 

“No need to rush, kiddo!” Patton said with a laugh, as Virgil shoved more strawberries into his mouth. “They’re not going anywhere.”

And this time, Virgil knew they weren’t.

[emiisanxious]

Changes

Archive of Our Own Link

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warnings :

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series

Additional Tags:

Morality | Patton Sanders Angst

Morality | Patton Sanders-centric

Kindaish... because it can lose sight of it but it's mostly Patton Centric

Angst

Comfort/Angst

Kindaish more in the end than in the middle tho...

Ambiguous/Open Ending,

Summary: “Traits creations, but more importantly Patton is the blamed one to separate them, although he felt bad, really bad about everything. But he was doing the right thing, right? Right?!”

At the age of 2, Fear was created, the fear of the unknown, the fear of being alone, the fear of the new, although he was young and not strong, he still felt a lot of fear of a lot of things. That is how he showed when he needed a change of diaper, a bottle. Because he felt scared, raw emotions that were what he was.

At the age of 3, Thomas created conscience, he was learning all types of things, that created his logical side, his moral side. But at that age, he didn't judge what was right or wrong, all that he knew was that he was learning, to be logical and how things worked.

At the age of 4, he started to learn what was right and wrong. What would win compliments, and what would win time-outs. That is also when he started to learn how to self-preserve himself. Sometimes with lies, other's times just hiding. Was also in this time where he started to be creative, drawing more, singing more, talking more.

At the age of 5, things... Started to change. He started to associate right and wrong with good and bad, that is when fear, started to feel more... scared. Funny enough, that is when the mindscape started to change. Creating two commons rooms, one for the conscious another for the subconscious. They all stayed on the conscious sides.

But with time, it was clear that Morality who took the right and wrong responsibility started to divide them. He was sure he was doing what was best for Thomas, he asked for self-preservation, who was changing to be lying to go to the subconscious and stay there. He couldn't ask fear to change for there, but right now? He let a trait alone.

He felt horrible, but it was the right thing to do, right? Thomas's mother always said that lying was bad. Other traits were born at this time, but all of them were classified as bad ones, that is how the seven deadly sins joined the subconscious commons room.

At the age of 6, creativity split in two, because of the right and wrongs that Morality was doing. The more good one stayed with them, when Patton, Morality had a name now, brought a baby green trait down.

"Deceit? Can you stay with him?"

"Oh, if it's not the all might Morality. What honor I received for your illustrious presence?" He was sarcastic as he speaks.

"He... Can you stay with him? Creativity split in two..."

"Oh, sure, because of your view of Black and White." He lost the teasing and sarcasm as he picks up the baby. "Lust, my dear, can you come here?"

A voice was heard and soon a salmon color trait was there. "Can you stay with him till I'm done with Morality?" "Sure!" Lust was happy as she picks up the baby and went inside with the others.

"You know Patton? I hope someday you will see that what you did, was totally wrong. I hope someday, Thomas himself will fix this. And when this time happens I want you to know, that I was right. The world? Isn't Black and White, Right or Wrong. Lie, can be good at certain moments. I want that when it happens, you will feel miserable and horrible. I want you to remember this exact moment. You were the bad one." Janus's voices were acid but serious as he says that. "If you don't have anything else. I'm leaving."

He felt horrible already, but he couldn't, he couldn't accept it! Thomas's mother was always right! If she said that it was bad then it was bad!

The next change was with fear... At the age of 10, fear changed. It was more right to say he was merged with the subconscious. No one understood what brought him to merge but he did, Logic, Morality, and Creativity were now alone in the conscious side.

2 years later, at 12, another side was created. This one was different, he was... Fear? But not the like who merged two years ago, it was more for society also he thought a lot of what if and bad cases scenarios. He was always jumpy and scared of the traits, that is when Patton decided to bring him to Deceit again. This time he felt worse than ever but wasn't about the right or wrong, it was because, if the previous fear was merged with the subconscious maybe this fear is supposed to be there.

Again Deceit asked for Lust to pick up the kid, and yet again he repeated all his previous speech, but he repeated a phrase for the third time before he disappeared. "The world? Isn't Black and White, Right or Wrong."

Morality felt horrible, was he doing a bad job? Was he doing something wrong? He couldn't know. He wanted to believe that he was doing good. He was following what Thomas's mother wanted. Be good. And be good means be nicer to others, be smart and study, create nices things, was also good to be in the theater and even the things that Roman was writing! Help others and do good deeds.

So why? Why Deceit's word always hurt him so much? Why he was doubting himself?! What he was doing wrong?! Wasn't he a father? Thomas always said that he was one, so... Why Deceit's word was so harsh?

Years passed, he could see that the fear he brought to Deceit, changed to Paranoia, the kid seemed to be freaking out about everything. It was starting to be so bad, that Morality honestly though in asking for medicine. But, before he could do anything, Deceit shut his mouth, always, always when he tried to talk with the other sides to bring the idea, his hand would move to his mouth.

After the fifth time, he just dropped, instead tried to reason it with Logan, try to calm Thomas down with reassurances, and asked for Roman to counter it with nice images and things like that. That was when Paranoia changed again to Anxiety.

Then they started doing Vine, later the Sander Sides videos, Anxiety got in the videos and vines more often, they had to interact more with him. Liking him or not, him been a The Other, or part of the subconscious they had to.

But... For Morality? Yeah, he looked at him as a bad guy in the start but as they passed the time with Anxiety... He learned with him, he got to know him better... And that is when Morality understood, it hit him like a star falling from the sky and falling in him. All these years, he was... Been wrong.

Deceit was right, as they grew up the guilt ate him, the guilt of labeling things as right and wrong, but he never truly understood it... Now when Anxiety tried to duck out he finally understood... He was the wrong one...

But, he could try to fix it right? He could try to be better! Of course, it would take time, after all, it took more than 20 years for him to notice his mistake. He hated the guilt, he hated to do that but... He knew the right thing to do when you were wrong? Say sorry. Say you were wrong and accept any consequences that come with it. So... It was a matter of starting.

"Virgil?" Was still weird for Patton to say that name, as he just learned it, yet soon Anxiety was opening the door, disheveled, he could see another trait inside. "Deceit?" It was a surprise to see him there.

"Wow, the might Patton." Deceit's voice was full of acid, acid whose Morality had to agree now that he knew, that it was full right in be there.

"Sorry for interrupting, I can come another time." He rushed as he tried to walk away.

"Patton." Virgil's voice was gentle yet had a weird echo. "Come back."

And he couldn't deny that, as he turned again and was back to the purple door. Still, he didn't know what he should say, or how to say it.

"Deceit, I want you to sit there." Anxiety's voice had this tempest tongue, some that Deceit couldn't deny as well and so he just sat on the end of the bed. "Morality, I want you to sit there." And soon Patton was sitting on the chair near the desk. "Now, say what you want to say." Virgil closed his door.

He took a deep breath, as he tried to recollect his thoughts. "I'm sorry Fear. I pushed you to merge with the subconscious, I pushed you to live with The Others when I knew better that you weren't... bad. Yes, I know you aren't fear anymore, but... I should know better. When you ducked out today I... Realized. What Deceit had been warning all those years ago. The world, or the mind in this case... Isn't it just... black and white. Or right and wrong... I... Don't know how to fix this. I don't know what I should believe anymore... I know just saying sorry isn't going to fix anything. But I guessed... The only thing I could do now... Was say sorry and promise that I will try to change..." Patton's tone trailed off, he was getting emotional, but at least he was able to say it.

"Deceit, I'm sorry... I'm sorry for ignoring you, I'm sorry for pushing you away, I'm sorry for think you were wrong all this time, I'm sorry... Like I said... I know that no matter the amount of sorry it won't fix things... But I want to fix this!" Morality was trying to be brave and embrace whatever the other two were going to say, as he falls silent.

Janus was looking to Virgil and then Virgil to Janus, both thinking about it. Deceit was the first one to talk. "I don't accept your apologies. No, I'm not lying. You pushed us far away from Thomas, you forced Virgil to duck out twice now. And that can't be forgotten, some of the seven deadly sins also merged with the subconscious. I lost my family... The family that you denied. But yeah, you can change, you can fix things. And we will work on that."

A pause, Janus was thinking as he looks to Virgil again before turning his eyes to Patton. "But not now, we will use the Sander Sides videos to fix things. To guide for a better understanding with time. First though... You will need to fix things with Virgil. He was the most hurt on your behavior."

As his cue to talk, Anxiety just sighed as he sits down on the side-table next to his bed. The echo was still in his voice as he speaks. "You... fucked up way too much. Don't, you are in my room, I can curse as much as I want. You fucked up way too much Patton, although you thought you were right. For you? Yes, you were right, for anyone else? No. As it was said, no amount of sorry will fix it." He took deep breathes, trying to calm down.

A few seconds later he was back to his more gentle tone. "Yes, I'm still fear, although I changed. Yes, I was recreated, a thing that only you and Janus know. Because I think Logan and Roman were busier at the time to recognize that baby. But honestly? You messed up so much that I need to agree with Dee. We are open to help you fix it. But with slow and torturous cuts. I will help with the scripts of the Sander Sides, so we can progressively make up. I will say when it's okay to show up The Others because they need time to think about this. But Patton?"

He took his time as he looked at the other. "You already started the process. You came to ask for forgiveness now it's just time. And I really hate to work hard, Dee, can I let all the talk with them with you?"

"Of course, it's not likely they see me as a mother. Even though it obvious you were the father of all of us." Deceit smiled, lowering his head in respect.

"Shut up... That was years ago, I like to play this role I'm now." Virgil smirked as he looked at the yellow trait.

"So... What should I do?" Patton asked unsure as he looks at them.

Silence, as Virgil and Janus just sighed at each other. "Let's create a story, I will talk with the twins and plan this out with them. At the start, I will plan things just with Roman and Logan to help plan better. When The Others accept that they can accept that you changed, I will ask Remus to join in and slowly build up the story for them starting to show up. It will be scripted, but, at least we can have something to focus on and to prove that you want to change."

"That... Will help the guilt disappear?"

"No... That probably won't help that. You were the core of the emotions, but a few videos ahead we can try to make a video to deal with sad emotions, after all, Thomas just finished a long-term relationship he will need it... With this said... How about we all go to sleep? It was a long day..." Virgil yawned as he proposed that.

"I will go talk with them... For now, glad to know you're okay Vee." Deceit got up as he started to sink out.

"Yeah... See you." Was all that Virgil said before laying on his bed, looking at Patton who was still there. "You know... You will start to get corrupt if you keep here..."

"I know... But... Can I... Vee... I feel so bad..." Patton who stayed most of the time quiet, started to let go as Janus left, as he slowly started to sob and feel the tears fall. "I know it's unfair for me to... break down in front of you... Since I hurt you a lot... But... Oh, Virgil... What I have done?!" He was angry at himself, he was mad at himself, right now he didn't mind in be corrupt if he could let go of all those feelings.

And Virgil definitely didn't mind, as he understood that Patton was a nice person, who most of the times just shut down his not good feelings, it would be good if he could let go right now, so they could work with that. "Come here..."

He sat down on the bed as he waited for the other and soon the other was there, laying his head on the purple's trait lap. The tears, the sobs, the gasps everything got worse but Virgil didn't mind, saying in a soothing voice. "Just... Let go Patton. Tell me everything."

And he did, he did tell how horrible he felt, how it was a big weigh having to decide everything, how the expectation was always taking his toll on him, how he didn't like it, but at the same time, it was the right thing to do... He just told everything. While crying and breaking down.

All the time Virgil just stayed there, hearing. Because right now he couldn't help, or even comfort right. After all, fixing that would take time... And only with time is that everything would be better. Right now? He could just hear it and hope that everything would change for the better now.

Note: Yeap, something inside me makes it more sense that fear [or in this case Virgil] was the oldest one, mostly because when someone relates him to fear, it makes more sense to me that he was the first one. But I hope I explained it fairly well, if not I can and maybe I will; rewrite this fic in the future with more details or even more emotions.

Oh, also this fic exists for the pure purpose for me to clear my conscience of Patton LOL. Because I read some unsympathetic and it crushed me. So yeah... Maybe I will rewrite it in the future. But I liked this concept. I'm ranting sorry lol.

[deathsaknockingonmydoor]

Okay but what about Virgil being the oldest darkside?

So Virgil's been there not as long as Patton or Logan or even the original creativity but he was one of the first dark sides.

So when creativity is split and now there Roman and Remus, he sees that a divide is coming and leaves to the darker part of the mind. He takes Remus with him because he can see Patton physically recoil from some of his ideas.

And now he has a child to look after.

And later maybe in Thomas's teens when he has just figured out that okay girls are still icky but guys? Oh god im gay.

And Janus is formed. Bright brown and yellow eyes stare up into the mindscape.

Janus is not found by Virgil. Virgil still broods in his room about whether he's made the right choice. He's found by Remus who often explores his side of the imagination.

Remus holds the baby and quickly runs off to see Virgil because look look pa! New kid, new kid! Friend? Because Remus is still a young side bearly pushing pre teens whereas Virgil is in his mid teens and Janus is a baby, a young defenceless baby. Not that he will be for long because the sides life spans are usually quicker the later they are formed. To catch up with the hosts physcial and mental age.

And Virgil just melts at this tiny snakelike baby wait why has he got snake features? And then Virgils panicing and oh god what does this entail and I was right all along, this just proves we're dark sides and,

Janus reaches out for Virgil a gummy smile and Virgil just doesn't care anymore, or at least not enough to go into a full blown panic attack.

Virgil raises both Janus and Remus until they can take care of themselves but Virgil... he thinks that maybe there was no need for the seperation and thinks that they could all be accepted they just needed to get used to the idea of the others.

Virgil tries his best to explain to them, but all Remus' and Janus' hear is that they're not good enough and that hes leaving.

An argument the biggest one they've ever had and Virgil just... leaves.

Figures that they're mentally old enough to deal with the seperation. Because Thomas is an adult, has been an adult for a good few years but he forgets that Janus is the youngest side, the Remus is not that far behind. Janus has barely had a year of being a adult while Remus still has side affects from the split, still just that little bit unstable without his former half and has not had nearly enough years being an adult like Virgil has like he takes for granted.

He goes to the light side and well eventually gets accepted.

Janus sees this and confronts him, another more violent argument breaks out one that not even Remus is involved in. They say stuff that they both regret after but pride blinds them like father, like son.