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flickeringart · 2 years

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Keeping the collective out (thoughts)

There’s something to say about the good inherent in being able to open oneself up to collective feeling. We’re all capable of sympathizing with the hardships and tragedies that happen to people on a collective level even if the hardships don’t affect us directly or has any impact on our personal lives. Pain, sadness, hope, hopelessness and joy... are all personal experiences that might be unique to the individual but can be elevated to the impersonal and universal.

Sometimes it’s beneficial to universalize experiences. It makes people feel less alone, as if they’re part of something bigger. Sometimes it’s extremely destructive to have the emotional channels open in this way. Sometimes it’s necessary to keep the collective out. Boundaries are necessary. Otherwise, we might confuse other people’s emotions with our own and forget to preserve a sense of self. There is no self in the universal – there's only the concept of self, which is usually quite vague and diluted because of a heavy influx of impressions that are all considered to belong to the self in one way or another.

It might seem insensitive to cut oneself off from feeling sympathy for other people but it’s often necessary. Most people feel guilty if they refuse to be hooked up to the collective feeling stream. They see it as some kind of crime against humanity and by extension, a crime against themselves. In some cases, however, the most compassionate thing is to avoid erasing the boundaries of the self.

Images, words and feelings carry meaning. Meaning is a universal phenomenon – it has little to do with personal opinion or tangible experience, it’s intangible and has to be sensed intuitively. Meaning can be helpful or unhelpful just like everything else. Make sure that you use it to serve your own well-being. It can serve to enrich you or deplete you.

In my own experience, I’ve found that depression has something to do with not owning negative emotions. With depression, there’s something that takes you over – an overwhelming sense of heaviness that behaves like a separate entity. People sometimes say, in the attempt to be helpful, to the person that is plagued by melancholy or chronic sadness that “it’s not who you are” and “this depression doesn’t define you”. This is not entirely helpful although it might be true to some extent. The truth is that the individual is caught in a double bind of feeling small and larger than life at the same time. Depression transcends the personal. In this sense, it’s a welcomed force. It saves the individual from responsibility and confirms his connection to something transcendent that has the ability to save or imprison the little self. At the same time it has the ability to instill a lot of guilt - in others and in oneself.

Some individuals are more susceptible to be flooded by forces that are destructive. They can’t keep the world out. It’s usually reflected by a strong 12th house/Piscean/Neptunian emphasis in the natal chart. There’s both powerlessness and strength in these types. Perhaps it would be easier if they could choose what to surrender to rather than denying their own part in the process of giving in. Yes, life is bigger than the individual but he has some say in what to be consumed by.

Powerlessness has its own special allure. The more translucent, the more magical and fascinating. It isn’t difficult to see why there’s a romantic glow around the self-centered narcissist and his self-sacrificing twin. They are perfectly acting out the Neptunian tragedy of a loss of boundaries and a loss of self. The bigger fish is devouring the little fish. One is seemingly stronger; the other is weaker. They’re both lost, isolated and starving. They both lack self-respect and self-worth because they’re married to the universal – guilty of existing and guilty of being something on their own.

Some people don’t want to exist. They don’t want to be involved with life directly. They deny all worldly desire. They do exist, but as shadows and reflections of others and their environment. “I don’t mind” and “you can choose”, “I want whatever you want” are common statements with these types and we've all been there at one point or another. There’s something beautiful to this way of being but it’s nonetheless a refusal to take shape. Of course, it’s inevitable to take shape in this world even though one has surrendered to something other than the self. Everyone still makes a choice, whether they’re aware of it or not.

Being open to suggestion is another important part of this. It feels nice, to an extent, to be ill-defined enough as to accept everything that’s thrown one’s way. It’s a sacrifice, but a sweet one. Again, what we are open to is our own business, but many people still complain of being influenced and swayed because of a lack of personal will/strength. I believe that it’s never the lack of will that is the problem, it’s the unconscious refusal to see that one has attributed/projected strength onto things that are outside of personal control. Or perhaps I’m just afraid of acknowledging my own powerlessness.

The key to keeping the collective out is to recognize subjectivity – not as an ultimate reality but as a valid and important part of living. There’s a way to be personal and still be able to empathize with others. There’s a way to care for others without compromising personal boundaries. Connectivity has its benefits, but only if it serves the lower as well as the higher dimensions of reality. There’s no use in denying one’s part in shaping one’s own reality, nor is it of any use to think that everything is responsive to the personal will. The middle way seems to be the only way.

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burned-to-the-void · 5 years

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I’m bad behavior but I do it in the best way

Jäger is on damage control duty. Bandit, of course, makes it more complicated than it has to be.

Bandit/Jäger, 3.1K words, E rated (nsfw), porn with feelings, mention of (implied) drug use, breathplay, and masochism.

For a man of science, Jäger is surprisingly superstitious.

It’s not like he believes that black cats will bring bad luck, or stepping on a crack will break someone’s backbone, nothing specific as such. But he believes in vague, ominous signs lying in plain sight. They might not stand out as significant on their own, but once you connect the dots, you’ll see the bigger picture.

Bandit has been unusually quiet this whole week, not a single prank or an inappropriate joke thrown at people’s frowning faces—a bad sign, the first hint that something is wrong. Blitz and IQ, who are far better than him at handling Bandit at his worst, are both half the world away on a mission—another bad sign. And just now, Doc has confirmed that Bandit requested to skip afternoon trainings, claiming he wasn’t feeling well although showing no visible symptoms, and slipped away from the base before he could even mention the word examination—the final sign, and the worst one, clear as the writing on the wall, sealing his fate.

All things considered, the will of universe seems absolutely determined to fuck him.

He’s never been in this exact situation before. It has been always Blitz’s job to go and fetch Bandit (they usually don’t come back until dawn, Blitz with heavy set in his shoulders, dragging his teammate by the wrist, Bandit oddly tame in his grip) when he goes into these… periods, but Jäger has the general idea of what to expect. Blitz gave him a thorough instruction on this, in case he couldn’t be around, and finally his effort is paying off. Jäger hoped it never would, but here he is, driving through the dead of the night with his phone on the passenger seat, blaring the endless string of the dial tone—it makes the weirdest traveling company ever.

“Pick up, please, just pick up,” he repeats under his breath like a mantra, as the call goes into voicemail once again; he doesn’t know if there is any kind of emergency, but he sure does feel like he’s heading into one. The adrenaline in his blood is making his mind run a million miles an hour, summoning dark images of blood and violence. Of course, Bandit is more than capable of protecting his own ass, but he’s probably not really himself right now, and also the chance that he might be the one causing the blood to spill isn’t exactly slim.

Bandit picks up about ten minutes later, which feel like at least an hour of mental torture to Jäger. His answer, on the speaker, sounds almost bored.

“Yes?”

Jäger recalls Blitz’s voice, walking him through each step. He’s on his way to the first one—pin him down on the map.

“Your location. Text. Now.”

Bandit scoffs at his attempt to sound stern. “What are you doing, impersonating Elias? You actually sound worse than him.”

“Shut up. Just, where the heck are you?”

“Las Vegas.”

“I’m serious, Dominic.” Jäger tries to give off the impression that he knows what he’s doing, which is a blatant lie, and Bandit is the last person who’d be fooled by him. Bandit sighs to the phone.

“Look, everything is fine here. Just go back to your bed and sleep, for fuck’s sake. Do you have any idea what time it is?”

He is changing his tactic, going from being unhelpful to reassuring Jäger that there isn’t any problem. Blitz has specifically warned about this.

“I’m already on my way. And you don’t sound like you’ve been sleeping, either.”

“Why does it matter if I’m sleeping or not?” Now he’s just changing subjects and stalling. Being evasive is like a second nature to Bandit; he probably can’t help himself, at this point. Still Jäger doesn’t feel any kinder toward him, when he’s developing a headache from being nervous for too long.

“Your fucking location, I said. Now.”

“Are you that eager to see me?” Jäger can tell that he’s not happy, despite the smirk in his voice, but he finally gives in. The message contains the address and his room number of a cheap-ass motel, thankfully only a few blocks away. Blitz told him to look for him in the shittiest part of the town, and apparently he just knows what Bandit will do even when he’s several continents away.

The door of his room isn’t locked, and when he enters, Bandit is standing by the window, lazily smoking a cigarette and stark naked except for the ink on his skin. Jäger isn’t surprised, but he needs a moment to get a grip on his composure. The very air smells like sex, and it’s nothing like seeing him without his clothes in the communal shower.

At least he remembered protection, he thinks, gingerly avoiding empty packets and used condoms strewn across the floor on his way to the man. Bandit’s reflection on the dirty window pane is expressionless. Apart from the street lamps, the only light source in the room is the tip of his cigarette, glowing cherry-red, so it takes a while for him to notice the bruise around his neck. It’s shockingly vivid purple, fading into dark red around the edge.

“Fuck. What happened? Who did it?”

“I asked him to,” says Bandit, merely shrugging. “It’s fine, it won’t show over the hood. I’m not stupid.”

His voice is nonchalant as if they’re talking about a plain hickey, instead of two distinct hand marks on his fucking windpipe. Jäger feels dizzy, like he’s the one being choked until his vision blurs.

“You asked a total stranger to strangle you?”

“Well, he was high enough to agree,” says Bandit, little irritated now, signaling Jäger should drop the topic, but he can’t. He can’t help but imagine how it must have been like, hands bigger than his own curling on Bandit’s neck, looking for the pulse point only to crush it down. Bandit might be a good fighter, his willingness to fight dirty making up for the weight difference, but in a vulnerable position like that—it would be so easy to complete the act. Hold him down until his thrashing stops for good. Jäger suppresses down a shiver.

Bandit takes a last long drag before he stubbs the cigarette out on the windowsill. Then he turns around to look at Jäger properly, for the first time since he stepped into the room.

“Do you wanna touch it?”

With his voice low like this, it’s like they’re sharing a secret, and Jäger can’t think, he doesn’t understand what brought the sudden shift in his attitude.

“Why would I—,” he starts, but it’s too late. Bandit already has both his hands in his own, and he drags them up until his fingertips are pressed lightly on the colored skin, and oh, they’re warm to the touch, maybe more so than the rest of his body. Bandit huffs softly at the residual pain, and it’s better than any filthy moans he’s ever heard—Jäger is fascinated.

And Bandit must know that expression, how can he not. He leans forward to kiss him. He tastes like cigarette and cheap beer, his lips are chapped and dry, and Jäger can’t get enough of it.

He pushes him away harder than he intends to, flinching at the feeling of bare chest under his hand. Bandit doesn’t stumble, as if he knew it was coming.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll back off.”

“Dom, I don’t think this is—”

“Then tell me,” he repeats, “you don’t want this.”

But he does, that’s the problem, and how can he be this calm when Jäger is burning up with the simple idea of I want, want, want. He takes a step closer against his will. Bandit’s answering smile is taunting.

The kiss remains chaste, and it almost feels sweet, but Jäger isn’t fooled; Bandit is just too drained out of energy to initiate a proper makeout session. Jäger licks at the chapped ridge of his bottom lip, and Bandit hums.

“Do you want to fuck me?” he asks as they part, his breath hot and ticklish against his jaw, and Jäger has to grit his teeth to refrain from saying yes.

“Not like this,” he whispers, and he means it. Not like this, when he’s already sore and bruised, not when he’s only chasing after every possible sensory input to make his withdrawal more bearable. Bandit doesn’t look like he’s disappointed.

“Suit yourself,” he shrugs again, and sways closer for some reason.

“What,” asks Jäger, warily.

“At least jerk me off, then. I need something. You don’t know how bad it gets.”

He doesn’t know, and he isn’t keen on finding out. Watching Bandit struggling to fill the hollowness in his chest with anything he can get his hands on—pain, pleasure, violence and self-destruction—and making a mess of himself in the process, is way more than enough.

“Okay,” he says softly, and kisses Bandit on the side of his throat, just above the handprint on his skin. “Okay.”

Bandit, suddenly impatient, steers him to the direction of the bed until he’s sitting on it, and climbs onto his lap without hesitation. Jäger is still fully clothed and the fabric of his jeans must feel rough against the soft flesh of his inner thighs, but it doesn’t deter him from rocking his hips closer. He’s already half-hard, but he hisses when Jäger brushes his fingers over his shaft tentatively, probably overstimulated from whatever he did before Jäger came to pick his pieces up. He falters, stills his hand in mid-action.

“Go on,” Bandit pants, rubbing himself on Jäger’s open palm.

“Are you sure?” he has to ask before tightening his grip, because he doesn’t trust Bandit not to hurt himself, quite the opposite, he might actively try to in a state like this.

“I’m sure that I’ll break your fucking fingers if you stop,” he growls, and he sounds so wrecked already, even goes as far as whining when it becomes clear that Jäger still won’t go on with the program and will leave him hanging. Jäger has to, his brain is muddled with all the noises Bandit is producing without shame, but he remembers what he was planning to do and licks his palm wet in lieu of proper lube, already tasting Bandit’s precome there. His teammate is watching him closely, pupils blown and irises at least two shades darker.

Jäger loses that particular view when the man scrunches his eyes shut and let his mouth fall open in a silent moan as he finally closes his fist around his dick. But the new one is even better.

He’d like to keep it slow and gentle, careful not to push him over his limits but Bandit won’t let him, so instead he focuses on licking over the bite marks on his shoulders and mouthing the bruises, sliding his palm soothingly over ones he can’t reach, ones on his thighs and hips. While none of them are made by him, it’s him making Bandit flinch and squirm now, his feverish skin so, so sensitive. And the thing about Jäger is that he’s always curious; he wants to know what makes Bandit’s breath hitch (his thumb pressing over the slit teasingly), what prompts him to arch his back and make low, drawn-out sounds coming from deep inside his chest (slow, steady downstrokes with a firm grip, simultaneously too much and not nearly enough).

He doesn’t last long. Jäger lets him fuck his fist with the pace he wants—harsh and single-focused—until his whole body goes rigid, and suddenly there is come dribbling sluggishly down his fingers. Bandit shudders and pants against his neck, like a man just got rescued from drowning, and curls in tighter.

Choosing to ignore his own hard-on that’s been present since no-one-knows-when, possibly even before they started kissing, Jäger lets his clean hand linger on the man’s backside for a moment until he calms down, and then pushes him away gently to enter the bathroom. He cleans Bandit’s body thoroughly with a wet towel, not just of fresh come on his stomach but of every trace of sex. He is lying limp on the bed, eyes weary but still tracking his every movement. Even in a state like this he’ll probably agree to a quick blowjob, but no matter how willing he is, it still feels like taking advantage. He doesn’t know if Bandit would have wanted any of this, if he wasn’t desperate for a distraction, for a way out.

He brings Bandit a glass of tap water, which he drinks away without protesting. The tendons of his neck shift under the bruise as he tilts his head back. It’s a mesmerizing view, and Jäger hates himself a little for thinking so. He wishes he can make it disappear with sheer force of his will.

Bandit is quiet on their ride back to the base, but it’s a different kind of silence from before, when he was full of restless energy, overcharged with tension. Now it’s all fucked out of his system, and he must be crashing down, hard.

He is looking out the window, occasionally shivering with either the real cold or the one inside him, and when Jäger briefly takes hold of his hand and locks their fingers together, meaning to be reassuring, Bandit clenches his hand hard enough to leave crescent marks on the back of his hand before he lets go. Jäger doesn’t mind it. They’ll fade away, in a matter of minutes, and so will Bandit’s bruises, given enough time. The one he’s not so sure about lies deeper, around the gaping hole in his heart. He knows drug isn’t the main source of his problem, but a coping method, albeit an extremely unhealthy one. Just like sex is to him. Jäger should probably forget what happened tonight; it doesn’t have to mean anything.

“Please tell me you don’t do this with Blitz every time he picks you up,” groans Jäger, at the sudden thought that popped up in his mind, unbidden. Bandit snorts in the passenger seat.

“I’ll leave it to your imagination.”

He groans again, overdramatic, and the atmosphere between them is decidedly lighter, until he blurts out what’s been on his mind for quite a while as he stops his car in the parking lot.

“You shouldn’t just let a random guy choke you during sex, it’s dangerous,” he says, trying to make it sound like a passing comment, like it’s no big deal, aiming for the tone he’d use for saying something like you shouldn’t eat that much sugar. He’s not succeeding at all, it seems, considering the way Bandit’s expression hardens immediately. Jäger blames his big fat mouth for this, he knew that Bandit wouldn’t take it well.

“Oh, and you’ll do it for me if I ask?” Bandit sneers, and just like that, Jäger is left speechless. He imagined Bandit bristling at his words, that it’s none of his business, calling him a condescending shit, but certainly not this. What is this, a dare? A request? Or is he just mocking him? Jäger can’t read people well unless there’s some kind of a guideline to follow, and this is an unprecedented territory. Not to mention that this is Bandit, of all people. Bandit twists the corner of his mouth, its edge sharp enough to cut.

“I thought so.”

With that, he gets out of the car, letting the cold night air slip in. Jäger can’t move to follow, not when his mind is buzzing with questions. Does Dominic really want it from him? If he does, can he? He stares down at his own hands on his lap, balls them into fists, and tries to recall how the bruise looked like beneath his fingertips.

He assumed Bandit would have gone inside already, so he startles when he opens the door on the driver’s side.

“Stop thinking so much. I can smell your brain burning,” Bandit mutters, and looks at him expectantly, so he steps out of the car almost automatically. Bandit studies his face, and something he finds there makes his features soften.

“Hey, I wasn’t trying to force you into anything you’re not comfortable with, okay? Just forget about it.”

“But you want it?” he asks, because he has to be sure.

“I said, forget about it. I don’t want Elias or Monika chewing my ass for breaking your pretty head.”

“Elias will chew your ass anyway when he finds out you actually pulled this shit off when he’s not around,” he points out, with a faint smile. Watching Bandit trying to dodge around Blitz’s righteous fury never fails to entertain him, because at some point Bandit eventually surrenders and takes whatever is being thrown at him with a defeated posture, in his own way of saying he’s sorry.

Bandit looks relieved, which he quickly covers with a grimace in response to his words. He sticks his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leads the way to the base. Jäger walks after him silently, too caught up in his head to start a conversation. He glances up at his teammate’s neck with no little amount of guilt, and yes, he was right, the bruise isn’t peeking out.

“Dom, can you do me a favor?”

The suddenness of the question surprises even himself, but Bandit simply looks at him over his shoulder, not bothering to stop.

“I’ll consider it, but only because you’ve done one for me tonight. What do you want?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Jäger isn’t sure if it’s okay to ask this now, when they’re not in the heat of something and Bandit is more or less sober, or if it’s kind of anticlimactic after the things they’ve done already. He isn’t sure why he is asking, in the first place.

“Sure, if you want to,” Bandit replies easily, and stops in his track to peer at Jäger’s face, curious. His eyes are sharp and searching.

“I—,” he wants to, he does, it is the only thing he can be sure of. “Yes.”

Bandit, for once, keeps his mouth shut, at least for the purpose of talking, and pulls him in by the waist. He still tastes like stale cigarette, and his beard is scratchy, and Jäger wants to do this until it becomes impossible to forget what it feels like. He holds onto Bandit’s arms for balance as he leans in closer, and his fingers finally stop itching with the phantom sensation of curling around something warm and alive.

#rainbow six siege #r6s #r6s jäger #r6s bandit #bandit/jäger #fan fiction

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lovelylogans · 5 years

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*cracks knuckles* it’s time for me to go galaxy brain on main.

i present: an overanalysis of virgil’s deposition (specifically, deceit weaseling badgering the witness)

so, virgil is very clearly reluctant to take the stand:

to which deceit responds “very well. you don’t usually have anything helpful to add anyway.”

to me, this reminded me of the past lines (i forget which eps and i’ll edit this post when i find it) in which numerous sides speak about virgil being unhelpful, pre-accepting anxiety arc: “virgil always seems to get you down,” “we’re talkin’ toons, dr. gloom!” in “becoming a cartoon” in which the other sides actively ostracized virgil bc he was unhelpful, or brought the group down.

let’s take a look at accepting anxiety part two (which is only 13 minutes long and we thought it was a MARATHON, weren’t we cute back then?) when virgil rises up, he says “i’ve decided to duck out... i removed myself from the equation. i quit. decided it wasn’t worth it. it didn’t seem like i was wanted. you all made that pretty clear anytime i showed up.”

later in that ep,

this clearly rankles virgil, so he takes the stand: agitated, on edge, keyed up—precisely as deceit wants him.

“okay! ask me your questions.”

look at his posture, the tone of his voice—he’s hunched forward, arms crossed, bangs in his face. he’s on defense (from the defendant i’m so sorry i’ll go) and he’s irritated. deceit then asks him the clarifying question:

“you are in control of thomas’ fears, are you not?” honestly, it’s a fair question. he poses a similar question to logan earlier (logic as an oversimplification) though he does eventually highlight logan’s other roles (for instance, his punctuality.)

however, look at that phrasing. you are in control of thomas’ fears. not you are thomas’ fear response. not you represent thomas’ fear. you are in control of those fears.

back to accepting anxiety part two! “i’ve always aimed to protect you!”

to quote logan: “look, anxiety, you’re a natural fight-or-flight reflex. that’s what you’re instilled in humans to act as.”

to quote virgil himself an ep ago: “me being able to elicit fear doesn’t mean i haven’t grown.”

virgil’s been established, yes, as anxiety. however, it’s anxiety that he doesn’t want to overpower thomas with. in accepting anxiety two, as thomas says, he wants to work with anxiety to overcome those fears, rather than without him. virgil can elicit fear, true, but that doesn’t mean he intends for it to be so aggressively overwhelming—or, at least, that’s been my interpretation of canon, and if i’m missing something please feel free to let me know.

back to the most recent ep!

“oh my go-we all know each other! who are these clarifications for?? CUT TO THE CHASE!” again, i think this might be needling at virgil’s past. as fear/anxiety—someone not to include, someone to excise, someone to, well, fear. keep away from.

but look at how agitated he is. he’s so clearly on guard here, he’s so clearly defensive, he’s lashing out and shouting. after two questions. and admittedly one pointed comment. virgil does not want him here, he does not want to be in this situation, he wants out. cut to the chase indeed.

“is it true that you once said that ‘weddings are outdated, overly expensive pagentry?’”

i just really liked that imitation. i do also think, though, that this imitation tells us something about the past deceit and virgil relationship (friends, enemies, whatever it was.) personally, i can only get better at interpreting people the more time i spend around them. for example, a professor i have 3 days a week this semester? i can do a passable “oh, my” impression of her voice. but my roommate, who i have known since i was about 13? she and i have literally started saying “hell yeah!” in the exact same tone of voice, at the exact same time. i can do a much better impersonation of her. and granted deceit and virgil have the same face and similar voices, but look at deceit’s impersonation of patton (pretty spot-on) and logan (less passable) and then look at his impersonation of virgil. that’s on-the-nose. that’s practically perfect.

that’s an impersonation you get after a lot of time, study, and practice.

“yeah, well, i also once swore to thomas that the drink he left alone in the other room for ten seconds was definitely poisoned and if he drank it, he would die. i’m not exactly a beacon of truth.”

first, it’s just nice to know that i’m not the only one who panics about drinks getting poisoned. second, that line i bolded. that’s a turning point. that is a target. that is what deceit will narrow his focus in on.

“so you’ve changed your mind then?” see? narrowed in. focused. virgil knows it, too. look at his posture: he’s drawn his shoulders back, though he still has his arms in front of him.

“next question.” however, i do think that there could also be an undercurrent of history there, which i won’t speculate about; i’m gonna just assume that it doubles back to the dilemma of this episode, ie, the wedding vs the callback.

deceit chuckles, there, and let me just say thomas that is a VERY good evil chortle, 10/10. anyway, “very well. as thomas’ anxiety, do you have any relevant information about his norepinephrine levels in regards to these two conflicting commitments?”

SCIENCE BREAK! note that i’m a journalism/english major and i nearly flunked out of chemistry in high school, so i’m mostly relying on google here. anyway, deceit specifically mentions norepinepherine, which directly stimulates adrenergic receptors. however, in my own research (again, not super known to be trusted here) i’ve found that anxiety is epinephrine. minor differences, sure, mostly centered on the effects that they have (norepinepherine, for instance, causes your blood vessels to narrow which increases blood pressure level, which epinepherine doesn’t do.) epinephrine, however, is the primary aspect of “flight-or-flight” response, aka virgil’s specialty. norepinephrine results in the formation of epinephrine: so essentially, deceit is asking if there’s an increase in norepinepherine, which would result in an increase in epinephrine: basically, is there gonna be a bad/anxious time happening any time soon.

science break over! virgil does not have the patience for it that i just spent researching and you just spent reading, though:

“i think it’s ridiculous that anyone is entertaining any of this. guys, he’s a liar! you literally know him as deceit!”

it’s true, we do know him as deceit. we also knew virgil as anxiety, which is where a popular strain of theory has popped up: ie, virgil being known as anxiety, and the name ‘virgil’ being a sort of lie. i’m not sure how much i agree with it, though i do think it’s a viable fan theory.

“glass houses, virgil. you yourself said that you are not a beacon of truth.”

his tone—especially when he chides virgil about glass houses with the finger wag and the little tsk—is mocking. he’s taunting virgil. as in beware calling me a liar—we both know that you aren’t as honest as you seem.

“yeah, because i’m wrong a lot.” virgil’s still on the defensive.

“oh, so you’ve never been reluctant to share anything with the group then?”

this. this is the line that makes me think that it’s not quite centered on the name, coupled with deceit’s next line. if any of you have siblings—you know how you taunt them with something, or tease them, and they say “DON’T” or “STOP” or you get that response that you were looking for, because little kids are jerks, and you just say “whaat, i just meant insert thing here...” it’s vaguely like the “i’m not touching you!” defense. this scene gives me very similar vibes. deceit is definitely taunting virgil over something that he didn’t share—whether it’s with the named sides we’ve got, or if it’s with the unseen friends of deceit.

let’s throw it back an ep, shall we? to that endscreen. “you are hilarious virgil, you always have been...” and “just be sure to keep up that personal growth, virgil. maybe soon, you could be rid of us all.”

definite history. definitely a pattern of needling virgil over their mutual past.

“don’t.”

“what?! i just meant your name...”

look at him. he’s delighted he’s gotten the reaction he wanted. he’s delighted that thomas is now glancing back and forth between them, curious about that history. and again, see, look, the petulant little “whaaat? i just meant...” and hey, look, another moment of deceit needling something of virgil’s past with the sides: they kept trying to figure out his name, saying his name was a big thing for him, and now deceit is bringing that up, too.

“DON’T!”

he’s an ANGERY boi! he does not want deceit prying, he does not want him bringing this up in front of the others, especially thomas, and he does not want to revisit the past.

“maybe that’s why it’s so easy for you to recognize me for what i am. like i said before, it takes a liar to know a liar.”

this is the point where patton breaks in, and this little scene is ferreted away for fanders to overanalyze until they’re dizzy (guilty!) but hey, that parting line, huh?

it takes a liar to know a liar.

so i think the main question is: what’s virgil lying about? is it his past as a “dark” side (which i think is pretty widely accepted fanon, and very heavily hinted in canon) or is it about a potential betrayal he did to the dark sides, or is it something that the “light” sides (and therefore the audience) don’t know about virgil yet? something that could really affect their trust of him?

either way, this scene was a little over a minute, and yet it provided this much for analysis, so. even if i’m wrong about most of it, i am not wrong about the fact that the deceit and virgil conflict is gonna be intense, everybody.

#my post #text #ts spoilers #sanders sides spoilers

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