#i actually started writing a fic ages ago about the three Kiddos but i never finished it

[z-eusie]

now i'm thinking about baby boy zagreus, and i'm VERY emotional about it!!!

[xbaepsae]

the ebb and flow | part three

“You find it interesting that you both arrived here on the same day; starting your journeys at Camp Half-Blood at the same time.”

[demigod!jeongguk x demigod!reader]

genre: percy jackson!au, mythology!au, demigod!au, enemies to lovers!au

word count: 1.2k

rating: pg-13

warnings: mentions of monsters

a/n: here’s part threee. i can’t believe the amount of good feedback i’ve gotten from this series so far! i think it’s the most feedback i’ve ever gotten from any of my fics lol. you all are so nice and excited, that it makes me even more excited to write and get these drabbles out each week. so, thank you all so much! xoxo

→ series masterlist!

the first summer – in which you meet him for the first time

“Dad, where am I going?”

“Somewhere you’ll be safe.”

Safe. “And where is that? Are you coming too?”

Your dad stares at you with a melancholic expression, shaking his head. “I’m not like you, remember?”

Ah, yes, you remember all too well. Ever since you were young, you’ve been acutely aware of how different you are. Of course, the teasing in grade school made it apparent, but what made it even more so were the monsters that seemed to lurk around you. They never directly approached you, but you were still terrified. When you finally brought it up to your dad at the age of ten, he finally told you the truth.

Growing up with a single dad seemed normal to you—perfect, even. You never felt like you were missing out on anything, and you didn’t question where your mom went. So, when you found out that she was Athena, you couldn’t believe it.

“How did you guys meet?” you remember gasping, completely surprised.

“It was a while ago—I was in college, just sitting in a coffee shop. And then she walked in and—wow,” he breathed, a weird look on his face. “I thought she was beautiful with her ebony braid and book in hand—The Picture of Dorian Gray. She settled into a booth and started reading. I loved the book, so I walked up to her and we just talked for hours.

“After that, we met up some more and eventually, she revealed her true self to me. Obviously, I was taken aback. I mean, a goddess? It just seemed unreal; too crazy to be true. However, I think I was already in love with her at that point, so I believed every word of it.

“But she couldn’t stay long. I hoped she would—just so we’d have more time to read books and talk about the world—but that wasn’t realistic. Even though she left, it wasn’t the end of the world because she gave me you.”

You wish that you could stay with your dad forever, but he’s right—you’re not safe where you are right now. The monsters weren’t an issue when you were younger; but now that you’re older, they’ve started coming closer. And you can’t risk anything hurting your dad. He’s all you have.

“Okay, I’ll go.”

***

After miles of green, you finally see something interesting in the distance—a golden fleece. It sits high on a valley and practically glows in the light.

“That’s actually the real fleece.”

“Really?” You turn to face the satyr, named Don, who became your assigned protector. “It’s the actual one?”

Don nods. “Yup. It was brought here a while ago to protect the camp—keeps the monsters out.”

You shiver at the mentions of monsters. During the journey here, while things hadn’t been too bad, you and Don still came into contact with a few unsightly individuals who tested your sanity.  You’re just happy that you both managed to make all the way to Long Island relatively unscathed.

“That’s nice,” you say as you both walk closer towards the fleece.

“Doesn’t mean there aren’t monsters though,” Don grimaces, which causes your stomach to drop just a little. “You can hear them roaming these woods at night.”

“I guess we better get to Half-Blood Hill before nightfall, huh?”

And you guys do.

After trekking past more trees, you finally see the entrance. There is a massive arched sign with the words Camp Half-Blood etched into it. As you get closer to the entrance, a calming sensation seems to wash over you; it’s like, you’re finally where you’re supposed to be. Of course, you miss your dad dearly, but you know that he’ll be fine. And from what Don’s told you, you’re allowed to visit him once in a while.

“Here we are, kiddo,” Don pushes you forward, and you take your first step into your new home.

The moments that come after you walk through the arch is a blur. You get separate from Don and thrusted into the Cabin Six, where you discover that you have many half-siblings. It’s strange meeting them, because you’ve never had brothers or sisters before, but you’re able to pick up on the similarities that exist between everyone. It feels surreal to know that you share a godly parent with them.

After you meet all of your new roommates, you have dinner with them and the same feeling you felt earlier comes back—you feel at home with everyone.

“You’ll like it here,” Namjoon says, offering you a dimpled smile. You both are the same age, so you feel comfortable being around him.

“I already do,” you say with honesty. “Everyone’s really nice and our cabin is so cool!”

Namjoon takes a sip from his goblet before he nods fervently. “Right? Objectively, we definitely have the best cabin here.”

You haven’t seen the inside of any other cabin, but you already have a feeling that Namjoon is right. Though you are positive it’s definitely a subjective thought.

Once dinner is over, you attend your first campfire and the energy from everyone gets the blood pumping through your veins. You’ve never heard so much singing or seen so many dryads dancing. Eventually, the music settles when Chiron appears front and center with an announcement that there are new campers.

He introduces you to everyone, a daughter of Athena, and forces you to stand as everyone overtly stares at you. It’s a moment you never want to relive again. After you sit down again, Chiron announces the arrival of someone else and your eyes move to the source of his next introduction.

“Hail, Jeon Jeongguk, Son of the Sea God.”

Everyone begins to murmur at the mention of Poseidon—one of the big three. In the few hours you’ve been here, you’ve noticed that there aren’t as many campers from those gods. You watch as this Jeongguk kid stand up on gangly legs, dark hair in a disarray on top of his head. He murmurs a soft hey over the crackling fire before sitting down again.

Even after Chiron switches the topic, moving away from demigods and into activities, you continue to look at Jeongguk. You find it interesting that you both arrived here on the same day; starting your journeys at Camp Half-Blood at the same time.

“Is it normal for campers to arrive on the same day?” you ask Namjoon.

He seems to think over this for a moment. “Not really. I mean, unless they come here together. But otherwise, it doesn’t happen that often.”

You hum and turn back to look at Jeongguk. Unexpectedly, he’s already staring at you. The act has you scooting back in your seat, caught off by the intensity in his wide eyes. Why is he looking at you like that? Then again, you’re staring at him too, so you really aren’t one to talk. He continues to stare for another second before he turns away, suddenly engrossed in the conversation around him.

“Hmm,” you find yourself cocking your head to the side. “I guess we’ll just have to see what happens next?”

“What do you mean?” Namjoon asks.

You turn and give your half-brother a smirk. “Whether Jeongguk becomes a friend or foe.”

[mirkwoodshewolf]

The Prankster Queen is dethroned; SPN & Lucifer cast x teen reader

*Author’s note*

Well this was a LOOOOOONG time request from my Wattpad account but I finally got some motivation to write and finish this fic. Now I talked with the requestor about this and some changes were made, originally this was gonna involve Criminal minds cast but I had barely watched the show at the time so I talked with them and they agreed to have this be a SPN X LUCIFER cast crossover. So I hope you all enjoy this little fic and until the next update.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@platawnic​

__________________________________________________________

“Okay guys; here we are back at the Supernatural set ready to start filming the 2nd half of season 14. Before I get into the special prank on Alex day I want to first send a very special thanks to the Lucifans for the #SaveLucifer and thank Netflix for renewing a season 4 and 5 of Lucifer.  Yes I am a fan of that show as well. I mean I’ve got to my dad plays the famed Devil himself. No, no, no, no, no I’m joking. I watch the show because I really love what they did with it. The writing is phenomenal and the cast is super friendly. They’re like my second family next these guys here at Supernatural.”

I spoke through my Youtube channel streaming live.  I could already see comments popping up along my livestream. Comments like ‘YASS LUCIFERXSPN SUPPORT’ or Winchester sister stans Lucifer.

“Yes I do thank you. Now for the moment you’ve all waited for. I’ve got the plastic wrap, the super glue, feathers, and fan. And of course the star of this prank on Alex, my baby boy Shadow.” I then presented my black German Shepherd who was lying on Alex’s trailer couch. “You ready to prank Alex boy?” he tilted his head to the side. “You ready to prank him?” he let out a bark and I cooed. “Good boy!” I flipped my camera back around and said. “Now Jared kindly set up the camera just a bit ago so I will transition to that in just a little while. For now I’m going to set up the door so please enjoy this fast forward montage of me getting the prank set up.”

I spread the super glue all around the plastic wrapping and tapped it across Alex’s trailer door so that when he would run right into it, he would get trapped with the plastic wrapping before I would attack with the pillow filled with feathers.

“Okay everything’s all set up. Now for the final touch, c’mon boy up on the bed.” He got off the couch and into Alex’s bed and just lay there at the foot of it. “Good boy.” I opened the trailer door and waited for Alex to come around.  Once I saw him walking alongside Misha, I cried out. “ALEX! ALEX! SHADOW’S TAKING A SHIT ON YOUR BED!!”

“What!?”

“I’m not kidding I was walking him and he just ran in here and literally shit on your bed! Bad dog!”

“Shadow! Shadow! Damnit Shadow!” Alex then ran up and just like I hopped, he slammed right into the plastic wrap and fell right to the ground.  I then pelted him with the pillow till his entire face was covered with feathers.

“BOOM SUCKA!!! That’ll teach you to eat my big cookie.” I told him.

“Okay maybe I deserved that.”

“Wow (y/n), all this for a cookie?” Misha said as he helped Alex back up on his feet.

“Misha you don’t understand. Those cookies were my mum’s special recipe. Plus she makes them so big that you can eat it in the space of a week. I was saving the last bit of it and then this guy decides it’s a good idea to eat the last of it.” I said pointing to Alex.

“You know….one of these days. We’re gonna get you back. Everyone that you’ve pranked, we’re gonna get you.” Alex spoke as he coughed out trying to get the feathers out of his mouth.

“The day that happens is the day J2(I/l) turns on each other. And the boys and I have been doing this for a long, long time.” I sassed as I snapped my finger and Shadow hopped off Alex’s bed and we left the trailer.

Little bit about myself; the names (Y/n) Ellis, the last name sound familiar? Yep you thought right. Tom Ellis aka Lucifer Morningstar is my father.  He and I have been in the acting business together for a good amount of years.  In fact he’s helped me when it came to running lines or dealing with the pressures of the acting life, especially since I started off as a child actor at the age of 5.

I had a few small roles, but when I was just 9 years old a role on a little show called Supernatural came knocking at my door.  As a young British girl I was worried that I wouldn’t get it because this was an American tv show and I had to speak with an American accent.  But thanks to a good dialect coach, and 2 test screenings with the boys to see if we were a fit, I got to play the role of Sarah Winchester, the younger half-sister of Sam and Dean who was cursed with witch powers.

But instead of killing her, Sam and Dean actually take her in and she uses her magic for good instead of evil.  For years the Supernatural cast didn’t just become an ordinary job, it was like being home, we became a family.  Jared and Jensen were like the big brothers I never had (even though they were around my dad’s age).

When things got too tough around set, J2 always found a way to make me smile and laugh. And as the years passed, Misha came on board followed by the 2 Marks, Ruth, Brianna and Kim, Osric, Rob and Richard, and now finally Alexander Calvert.  The Supernatural family is a tight bond and we all send out a powerful message that Family don’t end in blood, and to Always Keep Fighting when things got bad.

Then when season 11 of my show was being filmed, my dad had gotten the role of Lucifer Morningstar in Fox’s new tv series “Lucifer” which was basically the story of the devil taking a vacation from Hell and he ends up working with the LAPD alongside a clever detective named Chloe Decker.

When Lucifer exploded every time I went to conventions, fans always ask me questions about potential crossovers or what I thought of the show.  And truthfully I loved it.  In fact whenever I would wrap on my time on a season, I took the hour and 45 minute drive where they filmed Lucifer and spend time with my dad and the Lucifer cast.

Lauren, Aimee and Lesley became my partners in crime when it came to the subtle pranks on the Luci cast or even my dad.  Aimee and I are always making Instagram videos of each other acting like complete nutjobs, she’s like the older sister I’ve always wanted (since I am the eldest of my three sisters).

But that’s my life, and if you were to ask me if I could trade it away for anything else, I would tell you hell no (no pun intended).

After getting Shadow back into my trailer, I decided to see if my dad was willing to talk. I grabbed my I-Pad and went over to Facetime and clicked my dad’s name (of course I added the devil emoji beside his name).  It rang about five times before I finally got an answer.

“There’s my little She-devil.” He answered with a smirk.

“Hey dad.” I said with a smile.

“Aimee saw your prank on that Alex chap.”

“She like it?”

“Mini Ellis you are a she-devil genius!” Aimee soon came into the frame. “You got to show me how that brilliant mind of yours works.”

“Guess I learned from two of the very best. I know exactly how to push buttons but not go overly extreme that it hurts someone’s soul. I’m not completely soulless like Jared is when it comes to pranks.”

“I still can’t believe he actually cut one of his credit cards. That’s super low.” She said.

“I know. I’ve been trying to get him to ease back and not go quite extreme. So far he hasn’t done it knock on wood.”

“Anyways you two, what brings on this call my dove?” my dad asked.

“Just wanted to call and see how you were doing. How’s season 4 coming along?”

“Great. Everything is great. Thanks to the Lucifans, and the Supernatural family.” My dad said.

“No sweat. You’re my dad. I’m still pissed that FOX could just cancel your show like that. And the way they would’ve ended it. God that’s literally the worst cliffhanger ever!”

“Tell me about it.” Aimee groaned.

“But it’s all fixed now. Netflix will take good care of us now. Plus we don’t have as much restrictions as FOX gave us.” My dad teased.  I then heard a knock at my trailer door which made Shadow raise his head up from his bed and his attention turned toward the door.

“Hang on dad, who is it?!”

“It’s Jared! C’mon kiddo they need us on set now.”

“Alright I’ll be there in a minute.” I turned back to my dad and Aimee and my dad said to me.

“Go on, we’ll catch up later.”

“Alright dad. Give my love to the rest of the cast.”

“You already have my love mini Ellis.” Aimee said.

“Love you Aims!”

“Alright darling love you. Stay safe and have fun filming your next season.” The two of them blew me a kiss goodbye and I waved bye to them and the Facetime shut off. I put my phone aside and quickly refilled Shadow’s water bowl before I took off and raced towards the set.

Although unbeknownst to both Jared and Jensen something was waiting for them.  As I walked in on the set I sat down at the spot where my character Sarah was to sit for this upcoming scene.

“Okay guys on cue marks. Cue lighting and roll sound.” I got into the mindset of Sarah and took the prop book in my hands as our director called out, “Okay cue Jensen and Jared. And…..action.” it was then Jensen came down the staircase while Jared came out from the back corridor.

“Hey, so any word from Jodie?” Jensen asked as Dean to Jared.

“No not yet. Hey Sar, any luck with the research?” Jared asked me as Sam.

“Not a damn thing. God even for a witch like me I still can’t figure out the spell to get us to that other place. I’m sorry guys I may be strong, but I’m not Rowena strong.”

“No, no it’s alright. It’s okay. We’ll……find another way.” Then Jared and Jensen took their seats before suddenly jolting upwards and letting out girlish screams of shock and pain.

“CUT!!!” our director called out.

“The hell was that!?!” Jensen proclaimed.

“Oh thank god I thought it was just me.” Jared sighed with relief.  I kept my poker face up as I said to them.

“What happened just now?”

“Something shocked us. I don’t know what but whatever it was, it should never have shocked me back there. My butt does not deserve that kind of treatment!” he looked around the cushioned seat until he found some sort of electronic shock pad. It was slightly smaller than the cushioned pad and as soon as Jensen took hold of it and pressed a certain button, it caused another shock to run through his arm as he swore out loud and shake his arm.

“Uhh Jensen why would you do that?” I asked him.

“I don’t know I needed to see if it was real or not don’t judge me!”

“How the hell did these even get here?” asked Jared.

“No idea.” Jensen said.  I covered my smile as I tried to act inconspicuous but that’s when the two of them looked at me. “You did this?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I said as I stood up and strutted out of the room sassily to run into Misha and I told him. “Your revenge plot has been successfully played out.”

“I knew I could count on you (n/n). Thanks.”

“No problem, but just know Misha all things come at a price with me. Pranking the kings don’t come without consequence.”

“I know, I know. But still I thank you for doing this for me. That’ll teach Jared to put old cheese in my pillow.”  I patted his arm before leaving him to reset the scene again.

Weeks passed and filming continued on up until I was finally done with my scenes which meant that I was now allowed to travel on up to the Lucifer set and pop in and say hello.  After bidding everyone goodbye until July, I got into the car and my driver Tommy drove me on up towards the studio where my dad and the rest of the Lucifer family were filming.

After finally arriving on the set, I saw Lauren and Aimee out and about with a Starbucks cup in their hands.  As soon as they saw my car, they immediately waved.  I rolled down my window and said.

“What up my Luci sistas!”

“Ahhh mini-Ellis!” Aimee proclaimed.  Once the car stopped, I stepped out and I raced towards her and she met me in the middle as the two of us embraced each other tightly, rocking aggressively from side to side.  “Where’s big Shadow? You usually bring him with you whenever you’re done with shooting.”

“Well for some reason Misha wanted to keep him around set. Guess he must’ve needed the fluffy protection from Jared and Jensen after the prank I pulled on them a few weeks back.”

“What’d you do to them?” asked Lauren.

“Just put a shock pad cushion underneath their chairs. Misha told me to do it to get back at Jared for putting old cheese in his pillow.”

“Wow those guys are relentless huh?” said Aimee.

“Yep. But enough of that now, let’s get going. I wanna watch you guys film some stuff.”

“Alright! C’mon kiddo let’s go.” Lauren wrapped her arm around me before playfully giving me a noogie while guiding me onwards to the set.

I greeted my Lucifer family like D.B, Kevin, Lesley-Ann, Rachael, and of course young Scarlett (ever since the show I officially adopted her as my younger sister).

“So, have you guys seen my dad anywhere?” I asked.

“Last we saw him he was leaving his trailer for costume and makeup.” Aimee said.

“Perfect.”

“What have you got in mind she-devil?” asked Lauren with a grin.

“Ohhh not much.” I grinned as I walked towards the costume and makeup trailers.

Once I got there, I had spotted my dad just getting out from the costume trailer in the full Lucifer suit.  I grinned mischievously and slowly stalked towards him.  This was something that I used to always do to him when I was a little girl, it’s been awhile but I hope I still got it.  Like a tigress on the prowl I stalked behind my dad silent and carefully.

Whenever he turned around, I would hide behind anything I could whether it was the side of a trailer/tent, or even one of the many gold carts/motorbikes.  Then when he would resume his walk, I trailed behind him once again.  Closer and closer I got till finally I was within strike range.

The mighty huntress has cornered her prey.

I then trotted forward before leaping up but I was foiled when my dad turned around and managed to catch me and spin me around for a moment in his arms.

“Thought you’d sneak up on my again huh my little tigress? After all these years I finally caught you red handed.”

“Took you over 20 years but no time like the present eh?” my dad smirked down at me, the smirk that I had inherited from him, and said as he booped my nose.

“I just know when my daughter feels a little extra cheeky.” He bopped my nose as he said ‘cheeky’ which made me playfully stick my tongue out at him. “And put that tongue away young lady we are not a snake.”

“Wrong. Don’t you remember I got sorted into Slytherin when we went to Harry Potter world.”

“Yes I do recall that. But that’s still no excuse. Stick that tongue out at me again and I’ll give you a good whopping, do I make myself clear.”

“Yes father.” I submitted.  He pecked my forehead before releasing me.

“So, you’ve finished with your filming?”

“Yep. Managed to wrap up a little early, at least for me.”

“Now I’ve been hearing a lot of rumors about you potentially branching off and getting your own spinoff series?”

“Well I don’t like to brag but it’s still a rumor. Not even I can confirm it. Besides, who knows if the CW will allow it. I mean don’t get me wrong the other two sub-series I didn’t agree with but Wayward Sisters, I would’ve LOVED to see that become something. Maybe have Sarah make a few surprise appearances.”

“Well, if the CW don’t allow it, maybe Netflix will. You never know. I could put in a good word for you.”

“Thanks dad.”

“Tom! Hey Tom! Susan needs you in makeup stat. You’re shooting in ten.” One of the make artists came racing up to us.

“Oh fu—sorry about that Johnny.” My dad wrapped an arm around my shoulders and the two of us walked towards the makeup trailer so that he could get ready.

After doing a quick touch up on my dad, the two of us left for the LAPD set and everyone was already running around getting to their marks or getting the cameras rolling.  I sat right next to the director Sherwin as he was calling for cameras to focus and start rolling.  Finally he called action and I got to sit and watch the new Netflix: Lucifer finally be filmed.

It was a long day of shooting and filming but it was a very productive day.  I even got to learn about directing since (spoiler alert! I get to direct an episode this season of Supernatural!).  I was currently right now sitting with my dad sipping a cup of tea.

“Now I know that one episode that witches have familiars. If Sarah were to have a familiar, which pet would she have and who would you want to play that familiar?” I hummed.

“Well. No offense to the women but most of the time when a new female comes on Supernatural she always ends up being a bitch. With the exception of Kim, Bri, Ruthie, Felica, and the rest of the Wayward sisters. So I’d have to say Sarah would want a male familiar. And yes while I do love dogs and would KILL to have Shadow actually be in front of the camera, I think she’d prefer a cat. Now for the actor to play him. Now don’t laugh but—this is my fantasy dream cast…..”

“Oh just get on with it will you little missy! Stop droning on!” my dad whined. I mimicked his whining before I finally admitted.

“Gwilym Lee okay!”

“The Welsh actor from that Midsomer murders series you used to watch?”

“Yeah, why not? I think he’d make a perfect cat familiar. Wise, loyal, good fighter. And—not that bad looking if I may say.”

“Alright down girl. I swear you and Aimee have been fawning over actors far too much.”

“Then you do not want to see me with the young Wayward sisters. We’re a lot worse. Plus it gets awkward when they start talking about you. Especially when it involves the Lucifer cast.”

“Oh my god.” He groaned.

“I know right!? It’s bad enough I hear from the fans about how much of a ‘thirsty dad’ you are. But now I have to hear it at work!” before my dad could say anything else, Lesley came running in with a worried look on her face. “Whoa Les, where’s the fire at?”

“You gotta call the Supernatural set (y/n).” she panted out.

“Why what’s going on?”

“I don’t know something about Shadow.” Without hesitation I took my phone out and dialed Misha’s number.  It rang and rang and as it kept ringing I grumbled.

“C’mon Misha pick up your bloody phone already!”

‘Hello?’

“Misha what’s going on!? What happened to my son!?”

‘I’m sorry (y/n) Jared was eating some M&M’s earlier and he left the table for one second and the next thing he saw was Shadow eating the M&M’s he had managed to knock down on the floor!’

“WHAT!?!?!?!?”

‘Just come by over here, he’s been whimpering and we don’t know the contact information to the vet.’

“Okay I’ll be there as soon as I can. Try to make him as comfortable for me as possible. Okay! Tell him mummy’s on her way!”

‘Okay I will. And (y/n). Hurry!’ I hung up the phone and raced off.

“Whoa, whoa mini-Ellis where are you off too in such a hurry?” Kevin said as he and Aimee were walking back from the catering (after I had noticed the chocolate doughnut in Aimee’s hand).

“Shadow’s sick! Ate M&M’s. I gotta go!” I couldn’t even form a proper sentence as I raced outside and phoned my driver to hurry the fuck back to the set and drive me back to the Supernatural set.

Thankfully, he was right outside and the second I jumped right on in, I banged on the back window and ordered him to drive and soon he was off.  Oh Shadow baby hang in there baby boy!

Finally after what felt like an eternity (I don’t know why the driver had taken the long way around. Said it was fucking traffic or something like that). But before the car could even come to a complete stop, I jumped out of the car and raced towards the building calling out Shadow’s name.

I quickly raced into the main Supernatural set to see that it was completely empty.

“Shadow!? Shadow! Here boy!” I whistled.  Just hearing the way Misha had talked on the phone it made me really worried about my baby boy’s health.  And now just not seeing him come on command when he’s supposed to, got me really anxious.

I walked further through the main set (which was the map room of the bunker) when I felt myself slightly trip forward and I looked down to see a tripwire.  Oh shit.

SPLASH! I jumped as I let out a shriek when a small water balloon fell right at my feet.  A split second later another dropped on the other side of me but still close enough to my feet.  I jumped two more times as two more water balloons splashed right by me.

“Really guys? If you’re gonna do something like that at least have good aim.” But I was unaware of the enormous water balloon that was now starting to roll down. When I looked up, my heart sunk as I slowly let out a scream and soon I was drenched.

But it wasn’t water.  Well normal water anyway, when I had looked at myself I had seen that I was now covered head to toe in the famed fake blood the makeup artists make from corn syrup, chocolate syrup and food coloring.

My breathing sharpened and I growled out.

“J2. Are without a doubt. The lowest most vile Americans to EVER WALK THE PLANET!!!” This was my favorite shirt and now the boys ruined it.  Plus do you know how long it takes to get fake blood out of your hair? Believe me it’s not pretty. Hours upon hours of just brushing through one section of hair.

Soon enough the entire cast came out laughing and clapping but what was shocking was that the Lucifer cast also came out smiling and clapping along.

“We got you good kid!” Misha laughed.

“You—you all were……”

“About time we finally dethroned the Prank Queen. You’ve been stealing our thunder for too long kid.” Jensen said.

“And thanks to your dad and the rest of the Lucifer cast, they gave us the time to set all this up.” Jared said as he held his phone up probably recording the whole thing.  I turned to my dad and hissed.

“Et tu Papa?”

“Sorry darling. They were convincing. Plus you’ve been going a little overboard with the pranks. You even placed a dead fish in my car.” Dad said.

“Or itching powder in my underwear drawer last year during season 3.” DW added.

“And hacking my Instagram professing love for the DCEU when you know I’m a Marvel girl.” Aimee said.

“And of course you can’t forget your recent little prank. The electric cushions.” Jared said.

“So we all came together and finally got you back.” Alex said smugly.

“How’s it feel now? You just got Carrie’d!” Lauren proclaimed.

“You all are so lucky I’m not a real witch or a telepath. Cause otherwise you’d all be screwed right now!” I spat out the fake blood that was starting to seep into my mouth.  “But I’ll admit. Only I could come up with something like this. I’m impressed. Especially since it was a crossover team effort.”

Both castmates from each show came around me and that’s when all the selfies and self-promotion of dethroning the “Prank Queen” has officially happened.  Of course I couldn’t help but chase after J2 as well as my dad so that I could smear the blood on them as payback for what they did to me.

Yep the life of an actress on Supernatural who happens to be the daughter of the current ‘hot’ Lucifer Morningstar, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.  So while the entire cast and my family got their victory out of the way, I began plotting my next ultimate prank.

[coinsoup]

Do You Believe The Magic 8 Ball? I do

the keefitz fic... finally 

tw: minor injury and blood 

 Keefe glanced over at Fitz who was lying on his bed still attempting to complete the star map Keefe had finished ages ago. Keefe sighed heavily, pulling himself up from his spot at the foot of Fitz’s bed. He wandered over to a bookshelf in the corner of Fitz’s room. Gnomish culture and tradition was the first title Keefe saw. “Nerd,” Keef muttered, a fond smile creeping onto his lips.

 There weren’t just informational books on the shelf though, Fitz seemed to keep most of his little knick-knacks on the shelf too. Keefe smiled softly when he noticed one of his drawings was framed. It was one of his first ones too, so it wasn’t exactly a masterpiece. 

 Keefe picked up a strange black sphere. He brought it closer to his eyes, shaking it slightly when red words appeared in a small circle. The letters were written in a language he couldn’t understand which was weird.

 “Hey, Roy,” Fitz startled slightly, smearing the ink.

 “Keefe, this better be important,” Fitz said, glaring at his ink-stained hand.

 “What’s this?” Keefe managed to get out without bursting into a fit of laughter.

 Fitz looked up then, letting out an indignant huff at Keefe’s slightly mocking smile. Fitz’s gaze finally landed on the weird ball in his hand. Fitz looked as if he was racking his brain for a way to explain it, which quite frankly Keefe didn’t like. 

 “It’s called a magic 8 ball,” Fitz decided on, “It’s basically a fortune teller” Keefe gave him an unimpressed look. “It’s supposed to predict the future, or tell you the truth about something.”

 “Yeah, sure,” Keefe scoffed, “Where’d you get this from anyways?”

 “Father brought it back from the forbidden cities for me” Keefe winced at the word father and made a mental note to rant about his dad later so Fitz could vent.

 Keefe considered the object for a moment wondering if a human object could really do that, it wasn’t like the elves could so it’s not like the humans could either, right? Then Keefe had an idea, now let’s be clear most of Keefe’s ideas ended in disaster.

 “Is Fitzy in love with me?” Keefe asked aloud, shaking the 8ball. Most definitely it read, Keefe gave Fitz a smirk who was watching him curiously. Keefe tossed the ball to Fitz who caught it easily.

 “I mean you knew it wouldn’t work right?” Fitz asked. Huh, Keefe thought, he wasn’t even flustered. He had just denied it with no shadow of doubt in his voice. 

 Keefe was pretty damn sure that his feelings were mutual, but this, well, was unexpected, to say the least. There’s no way he could be that oblivious right?? And thus Keefe’s plan began.

 Keefe needed help for the last stage, so logically he asked his best friend’s older brother. So here Keefe was standing at the edge of the Ravagog braiding long grass blades as he waited for Alvar. Just when he was finishing his second braid he heard footsteps behind him. 

 “Hey kiddo, it’s been a while.” 

 “Alvar?” He was standing a few feet away looking as cheerful as ever, albeit a little tired. Keefe sat up quickly, then stood a little awkwardly unsure if a hug would be too much. Alvar just laughed softly hooking his arm over Keefe’s shoulder as they walked down the path.

 “It’s not that I don’t love seeing you, but what was so important it couldn’t wait till the end of the month?”

 “Well, about that” Keefe began, “I need your help with something.”

 “Okaaaay” Alvar drawled, “and could that something involve a little mischief,” playfully squeezing Keefe’s shoulder where his hand rested on it.

 “I mean I guess you could call it that, I need help with your dumbass little brother,” Alvar was just looking at Keefe, so he took that as a sign to continue, “I need you to lock us in a closet.”

 Alvar continued to stare for a second before he keeled over in a fit of laughter. Keefe felt heat rush to his cheeks as Alvar finally calmed down enough to look him in the eyes, doubling over once again

 “So you finally got your shit together huh? Or wait let me guess he’s still hopelessly oblivious and it’s not funny anymore.” 

 “Take a wild guess.”

 “I mean I guess it runs in the family,” Alvar said and his smile looked almost sad. 

 “Anyways,” Alvar said, clearing his throat, “basically you want me to be your wingman.” 

 “... well, when you put it that way-”

 “What do I get in return?”

 “Nothing,” Keefe said, putting on his best angelic smile, “You’re gonna do it ‘cause you love me.” Alvar smiled ruffling Keefe’s hair, “That I do, that I do.” 

 The two walked back to the front of Ravagog in companionable silence that was occasionally interrupted by a joke or two. Once they made it back at the entrance they stood there for a second before Alvar reached out to pat Keefe’s shoulder. 

 “I’ll see y-”

 “I missed you” Keefe interrupted. Alvar blinked at Keefe, smile falling from his face, in that moment he looked so full of regret and sadness that Keefe couldn’t even begin to comprehend it. Alvar pulled Keefe into a strong hug squeezing him tightly right before he let go.

 “I missed you too kiddo.”

 Phase one out of three began a few days later. Keefe and Fitz were sitting outside by the lake to do their homework. They were sitting pretty close already but Keefe sighed and shifted his textbook leaning a little closer to Fitz. 

 Keefe watched from the corner of his eye as he purposely pressed his thigh into Fitz’s. Fitz’s eyes widened and his hand jerked subtly enough that Keefe wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t paying attention. Good thing he was.

 Fitz tried to subtly shift away but Keefe was having none of it. Fitz gave up on subtly and crossed his legs so it would be painfully obvious Keefe was pressing their legs together on purpose if he tried again. Keefe waited a few minutes then flipped over on to stomach so that their arms brushed every time Keefe went to write something down. 

 Fitz let out a frustrated sigh next to him and Keefe looked over to where he was attempting to plan an essay for Elvin history. He could work with this.

 “Need some help with that ‘Roy?” 

 “Please,” Fitz said, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. Keefe hummed as he sat up leaning over Fitz’s shoulder to read over his work. 

 “Pen?” Fitz held out the pen. Keefe pretended to still be reading over Fitz’s work as he skimmed his fingertips along Fitz’s knuckles, who shivered at the light touch. Keefe then pressed his chest into Fitz’s back reveling in his sharp intake of breath. 

 Keefe continued to stay pressed firmly against Fitz who seemed intent on keeping his breathing regulated while Keefe corrected his work. Keefe finished slowly putting the pen down. You know what, fuck it Keefe thought.

 “You’d think with all the books you’d read you would better, I guess it’s for the aesthetic, I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t suit you though,” Keefe said, lips hovering close to Fitz’s ear who was completely frozen in place.

 Keefe laid back down on the ground facing upwards this time so he could look over at Fitz every so often, who was still distinctly flustered the rest of the afternoon.

 Stage two had to wait until the night before Alvar would come visit. It was a Friday so the boys had decided to play basequest, they pestered Biana and Della into joining them so they could actually have a full team. By the time Keefe and Fitz finally gave up, it was dark. Going to plan so far.

 The two boys trudged into Fitz’s room drenched in sweat. Fitz started rifling around in his dresser. It had been a few minutes when he let out a muffled curse.

 “I think I lost my crest, I’m gonna go look around outside,” Improvising is never a bad idea, right? Keefe hummed in acknowledgment waiting for Fitz’s footsteps to fade down the hallway before he began. 

 Keefe peeled off his sweaty shirt and dug around Fitz’s shirt drawer. Keefe hesitated before putting it on, eventually throwing it back and walking into Fitz’s bathroom to shower.  When Keefe came out of the bathroom Fitz wasn’t back yet.

 Keefe then went back to the dresser pulling on a pair of Fitz’s more casual pants and throwing on a shirt that he knew was a little oversized on Fitz so it should fit him fine. When Keefe looked at his reflection in the mirror he felt his cheeks flush at the sight of him. If he was blushing, then Fitzy should have a fun time with this. 

 Just as he turned back around Fitz came through the door holding his Vacker crest triumphantly in his hand. His gaze lingered on Keefe’s shirt then realization seemed to set in. Fitz blinked and Keefe knew he’d be blushing hard if he could. 

 “I- Uh- my shirt,” Fitz managed after staring at Keefe slack-jawed for a couple seconds

 “Very observant,” Keefe teased, taking a step closer then wrinkling his nose, “please shower you reek.”

 Fitz was able to make it into the bathroom without much trouble. That was a lie, Fitz tripped over his feet seven times (Keefe counted), he didn’t tear his eyes away from Keefe’s frame longer than five seconds and stared at him for a solid thirty before shutting the bathroom door behind him. 

 Keefe chuckled going over to the desk to get a piece of paper so he could sketch. Keefe let his hand flow, graphite shading in hollows and lines. When Keefe looked at the rough sketch of what he had so far he wasn’t surprised it seemed to be Fitz of some sort, after all, that’s what most of his drawings ended up being. When Fitz stepped back into the room he seemed to be a little more, well, put together. 

 “Sorry, I didn’t ask but I can stay over tonight, right?” Keefe asked when he heard the bathroom door slide into place. 

 “Yeah sure, whatcha doing?” Fitz questioned as he randomly picked a book from the shelf.

 “Sketching,”

 They both laid there in silence for a while, Fitz engrossed in a book he had probably read several times and Keefe detailing his drawing. Keefe sighed in relief when he managed to get it to look somewhat like he wanted it. He leaned on the back two legs of his chair tilting it backward. 

 “Please don’t fall,” Fitz said, putting his book down on the nightstand. Keefe huffed, but complied standing up and walking over to Fitz’s bed. 

 “Move over,” Keefe said.

 “Huh?”

 “Scooch, I’m tired and clingy,”

 “Clingy?” Fitz repeated, squeaking. 

 Keefe somehow managed to maintain his bored expression as he turned off the lights and got under the covers. Fitz was still tense beside him minutes later so Keefe decided he needed to do something about it.

 “Fi?” Keefe whispered gently, “c’ mere.” Fitz seemed to stiffen even more and this was the first time Keefe truly felt like maybe he had been wrong after all. It’s not like it would have been surprising, Keefe wasn’t much of a catch, just a childhood best friend really.

 Keefe’s breathing began to become rapid but was held off by Fitz’s warm hand on his forearm. When Keefe got himself back under control he took it as a sign that yes, you can touch me it’s fine. 

 Keefe scooted over to where Fitz was lying down and threw an arm over his torso burying his nose in Fitz’s neck. Fitz eventually melted into the touch fully relaxing and falling asleep to Keefe’s steady heartbeat and soft breathing. 

 Keefe woke up to Fitz whispering, well, that’s what Keefe assumed it was supposed to be but it was a little too loud to actually be considered whispering. He opened his eyes to see the blurry frame of Alvar glancing back over his shoulder as the door closed behind him. Fitz sighed heavily pushing his fingers through Keefe's hair.

 Keefe tried not to give away the fact that he was awake but Fitz eventually felt Keefe shift. Fitz’s hand paused for a second then pulled away like he was burned.

 “Morning, Fitzy,” Keefe said into Fitz’s chest.

 “I- uh morning,” Fitz muttered, shifting in embarrassment.

 Keefe refuses to let go of Fitz for several minutes despite Fitz’s, albeit weak protests. The two boys got out of bed a little awkwardly and shuffled over to the bathroom.

 Keefe’s cheeks burned as they stood side by side brushing their teeth. Fitz was leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed humming tunelessly. Keefe willed his cheeks to cool down before Fitz opened his eyes.

 Fate wasn’t on Keefe’s side cause Fitz opened his eyes then cocked his head to the side wordlessly asking for an explanation.

“It’s too damn domestic,” 

 Fitz dropped his toothbrush back into the holder, and like the asshole he was, leaned back against the sink and let his head lull onto Keefe’s shoulder. Keefe finished quickly nudging Fitz so they could go down to the kitchen.

 They entered to, well, quite a scene. Della was standing at the stove burning breakfast as Biana made coffee off to the side warily side-eying her mother. Alvar was seated on a barstool, chin propped up in his hand staring into a mug.

 “Oh, hey boys,” Alvar looked up smirking at them. Keefe subtlety shook his head which Alvar frowned at but motioned for them to sit down. 

 “Fitzroy, be a dear and help me?” Della said a slight edge of panic to her voice. Fitz didn’t even have a chance to sit down before shuffling over to help. 

 “What happened?” Alvar said, leaning closer to Keefe.

 “Nothing, and that’s the problem, he really is clueless,” 

 “If the closet idea doesn’t work I have a backup plan.” Keefe didn’t exactly like the look in Alvar’s eyes, but you do what you have to do.

 Fitz managed to salvage enough food to hold them over until lunch. Alden came in and everyone started eating. The silence wasn’t tense per se but it sure as hell wasn’t comfortable. Alden excused himself after not too long, leaving a wake of awkward silence. 

 “We’re still making mallowmelt right?” Biana piped up.

 “Oh right, Alvar, Fitz, Keefe can you grab the ingredients?” Della asked. 

 The pantry wasn’t exactly the ideal size for a locked in a closet situation, it was a little too roomy but Keefe could make do. Fitz turned towards the shelf looking for the flour. Keefe turned towards Alvar who mouthed five minutes. Keefe nodded, handing the bag of sugar to Alvar who grabbed the flour from Fitz.

 “I’ll bring this out to mom, find the flavoring,” Alvar told the boys as he walked out of the pantry. Keefe heard the lock click behind him but Fitz was too busy reaching for the vanilla to notice.

 “Fuck it,” Fitz muttered which was never a good sign. Keefe glanced Fitz’s way to see him shuffling over some containers so he could step on one of the lower shelves. dumbass

  Fitz tested his weight, he must have thought it was sufficient because he pushed himself up on it reaching for the vanilla. Shit, Keefe thought a moment too late as the shelf started creaking. 

 “Fitz,” Keefe said lowly.

 “Almost there…” 

 Fitz had no self-preservation apparently because he pushed his other foot off the floor putting all of his weight on a shelf as old as the house. The shelf, as expected, collapsed with a dull snap. Fitz released his hold on the bottle of vanilla as the ground rushed towards him. 

 To Keefe it all seemed to happen in slow motion as he stood there, useless. The bottle of vanilla shattered sending glass shards in all directions. Fitz meanwhile was attempting to soften his fall by catching himself with his hands.

 “FuuUck,” Fitz screamed as glass impaled his right palm. That seemed to spur Keefe into action because he rushed to Fitz's side, hesitating before resting his hand comfortingly on Fitz’s bicep.

“Why is it locked?” Della’s voice could be heard through the pantry door as she tried the handle. When Della swung the door open she and Biana were gazing worriedly down at the pair.

 “I told you guys,” Alvar said as he casually made his way to the door, “they’re fin-”

 “I am fine,” Fitz said through gritted teeth, hiding his palm so his mom wouldn’t see it. Della muttered something about cleaning the mess up. Keefe’s eyes shifted to Fitz’s hand and he saw blood surfacing around the glass.

 “I’m gonna go check to make sure Fitz doesn’t have any cuts,” Keefe announced, dragging Fitz through the door by his uninjured hand.

 “Ah, good idea,” Biana said, grabbing an old rag from the cabinet. 

 Keefe pulled Fitz into the small bathroom at the end of the hallway shutting the door gently behind them. Fitz eased himself up onto the countertop wincing even though he only used the fingertips of his right hand.

 Keefe wiggled his fingers, a nervous habit he has had since he was little and bent down to open the cabinet. He held Fitz calf as he propped open the cabinet door searching for antiseptic and a towel.

 Keefe stood back up cradling Fitz's injured hand who winced at any movement. Keefe drummed his fingers nervously against the cabinet as he inspected the wound. Honestly, it was a nasty cut but not too deep, though the glass was still wedged in Fitz’s skin so that was gonna be a pain to remove.

 “Fitzy,” Keefe said gently, reaching out for his hand once more, “we need to remove the glass okay?” 

 Fitz nodded in response, biting down on his lip when Keefe opened a drawer to get some tweezers. Keefe positioned the tweezers above the glass, attempting to gather up the nerve to pull it out. 

 It was a lot harder to care for someone else’s injuries than his own. It’s not like his parents hurt him, but they didn’t care for him either so he had to learn how to clean a scrape when he fell from a tree around 8 years ago, Keefe was well practiced at this point.

 Fitz’s hand involuntarily flinched as Keefe gently started to pull the glass out. The tweezers dug deeper into Fitz’s wound drawing a sharp intake of breath from him. Keefe gritted his teeth and finished the job, pulling the glass out and placing it down onto a paper towel. 

 “Sorry, are you okay?” Keefe asked, placing his hand gently on Fitz’s knee. 

 “You’re overreacting it was just some glass Keefe,” 

 Keefe ignored that last comment grabbing a cloth and silently working at cleaning Fitz's hand. Keefe knew from personal experience alcohol stung but Fitz sat there stoically as Keefe used the alcohol wetted tip of a cloth to clean his wound. 

 “Keefe,” Keefe looked up from where he was tracing the lines of Fitz’s palm lightly. They were nose to nose and wow Fitz’s eyes were so much prettier up close. Keefe searched Fitz’s eyes for something, anything to indicate what he was feeling.

 Fitz’s uninjured palm came up to cradle Keefe’s jaw before his thoughts could spiral too far. Fitz’s thumb ran against Keefe’s cheek and any coherent thought he had flew out the window. 

 “Can I kiss you?” Keefe managed. Fitz’s eyes widened in surprise but a shaky nod was enough confirmation. Keefe leaned in slowly, still unsure if this was happening. Their lips touched and Fitz was warm, so warm. The kiss was sweet and innocent but enough for them. 

 “Oh,” Fitz said a little breathlessly after Keefe pulled away. Keefe blinked at Fitz in shock then burst into a fit of laughter leaning his forehead against Fitz’s shoulder. Fitz’s arm wrapped around Keefe’s back comfortably remaining there even after his laughter dissolved. 

 Keefe finished wrapping up Fitz’s hand and tugged him down from his spot on the countertop. The two boys walked back into the kitchen which was, well chaos at best. Alvar was stirring a pot, nose crinkled, and brow furrowed as he attempted to change the temperature on the stove. 

 When Alvar met Keefe’s gaze he raised his eyebrows to which Keefe responded with a thumbs up.

@never-ever-too-many-fandoms @loverofallthingssmart @comas-are-for-sleeping @you-are-the-vacker-legacy @clearlykeefitz @theofficialkai517

[greencrusader13]

All Were Innocent Once: Chapter 10 - Knights in Training

Yay! At long last another chapter done! As evidenced by the year stamp at the start of the chapter, this one takes place after a time skip from when we last saw these characters, eight years in fact. The kiddos are growing up!

As always please like and reblog if you’ve been enjoying this fic! It’s been a real pleasure writing it.

3653 BBY…

There was blood in the air, the copper-like scent intertwined with smoke and chaos and fear. Eonur felt it thick in his lungs, strangling him as he coughed, pushing his way through the haze. The blue glow of his lightsaber provided what little additional sight it could, but it wasn’t much. All around him he could feel the terror of the other Jedi permeating through the temple halls, the younger ones’ emotions running rampant. Their home was in ruins, the main hall aflame. The great statues and pillars situated there were nothing more than mounds of rubble. Overhead starfighters, Republic and Empire alike, screamed as they pursued one another across Coruscant’s sky.

And all the while he felt it, something he hadn’t felt since he was first rescued by the Jedi years ago. Hatred, a thick miasma in the air. The dark side of the Force.

As he continued down the hall a hand gripped his shoulder from behind. “Hey! Boy! Get back to work!” the voice said in Huttese.

Huttese?

Eonur jolted awake, launching himself upright while seizing his sheets tighter. His scrambling nearly sent him tumbling to the floor, but he caught himself in time. No sooner had he fully come to consciousness than he realized he heard laughter, the light cackling sound of a cathar boy perched across from him. Tyar grinned playfully as he balanced at the foot of Eonur’s bed, his hands planted between his feet as he crouched, looking borderline feral, and his red eyes sparked with mirth.

“What’s the matter Eonur? Did I frighten you?” he said, once again speaking fluent Huttese.

“Jerk.” Eonur reached behind him for his pillow, which he promptly hurled at his friend with the Force, who ducked out of the way with ease. Tyar rolled back, pushed himself to a handstand, and then vaulted from Eonur’s bed. Though he lacked Eonur’s innate strength, the cathar had been blessed with agility unlike any of the other initiates they’d encountered, and was prone to showing it off. With a sigh Eonur shook his head and swung out his legs. “Is everything okay?” His eyes flicked to the window, where golden sunlight was just beginning to crack along Coruscant’s skyline. “Did something happen?”

Tyar shook his head. “Nah you’re fine. Besides, Greylam would be the one at your door right now if you had overslept. Probably would chastise you with one of the Order’s philosophies or something.”

Eonur chuckled despite himself. “He’s been reading The Collected Writings of Master Dorak again. I don’t think he can help it.” He stopped, then shot a blank glance at his friend. “What are you doing in my room anyhow? For that matter, how did you even get in here?”

“Used a security spike that I made.” Tyar shrugged, as though the act of breaking into any part of the Jedi Temple was a frivolity.

“But…why?”

“In part because I can, but mostly because there’s something I want to show you.”

“Ominous.”

Tyar rolled his eyes and, with the flick of his wrist, flung Eonur’s duvet off over the end of his bed using the Force. “Just get dressed and meet me in five minutes.” Still facing Eonur he started to leave, exiting backwards through the door. “And if I have to break in here again because you decided to get some more shut eye then I’m dragging you down the halls.” The door slid open at his approach, and then Tyar was gone.

“Yeah, I’d like to see you try,” he mumbled, though Tyar was well gone by the time the words left his mouth. Eonur didn’t doubt that his friend would make some vain attempt should he go back to sleep. It was for both their sakes that he decided to get up.

How could he go back to sleep anyhow, with the dream still fresh in his head? Everything about it – up until Tyar’s disruption – had felt so real, as though he lived it. A chill ran up his back as he recalled the nightmare. In all his years at the temple, he couldn’t picture it so devastated, that the war would reach the very heart of the Jedi Order in all its terrifying chaos. Yet here he was, safe in his own bed, the Jedi Temple assuredly safe.

It was just a dream.

He dressed quickly, not wanting to keep Tyar waiting any longer. His robes, the standard faire for an initiate, was his fourth set in the past three years. The sudden onset of adolescence had caused Eonur to grow significantly in that time after spending most of his time at the academy as a smaller-than-average youth. His first he’d simply outgrown. The other two he’d tried preserving as long as possible, but they both tore despite his best efforts. He was growing still, and fast at that.

Tyar had his arms crossed when Eonur stepped outside. The cathar tapped his foot impatiently against the opposite wall, ignorant of the other initiates likely trying to sleep at this early hour. He was up far earlier than most of their peers, aside from Greylam of course, who most often awoke before dawn to meditate in the gardens. Most mornings they would both be asleep at this particular hour, yet Tyar was already his robes, but they were covered in light patches of dirt and grime smears. His black hair had been tied back into his usual topknot, but stray strands of hair stuck out on parts of his head. He’d been out – again – and something had him excited.

“You ready? Let’s go,” Tyar said, waving Eonur along down the hall without even giving him a moment’s pause.

Eonur quickened his pace to match his friend’s stride. “Where are we even going?” He kept his voice low, though they were nearly out of earshot of the nearby rooms.

“You’re pretty jumpy this morning,” Tyar replied, flashing another playful grin. “I didn’t mean to scare you that badly. All in good fun.” He rounded the corner to the elevators and pressed the “up” button, which glowed red in response.

“It’s not that, just…” he paused, watching the unlit arrow on the wall above them. “I had a dream. A bad one. Right before you woke me up, actually.”

“So?”

“So, it felt real. It wasn’t like other dreams I’ve had that only felt real while I was having them. This one felt different, like it could actually happen. I’ve heard some masters talking about how sometimes the Force gives us visions of things yet to come, and I was thinking-”

“It’s not real,” Tyar said, his voice softer now, sympathetic even. The elevator opened before them, and he waved Eonur inside. Outside the glass Coruscant’s cityscape lay sprawling across the horizon. A golden sun rose just beyond the skyline, setting the morning sky ablaze with beautiful color, and they too rose with it as the elevator ascended. He could hardly stand to picture what the skies would look like ablaze, though he knew from history it had been several times before.

“I used to have dreams that I was flying with Cirak.”

Eonur blinked back his surprise. It had been some time since he’d heard Tyar mention his older brother. The name seemed heavy on his lips, and it took several moments before he spoke again. “We’d be back on Nar Shaddaa in an old speeder he fixed up, and he was driving so fast that all the lights blended together as they passed. It felt so real that I still remember the smoky air in my lungs and the rush of the wind and my big brother’s smile.” He shrugged. “I was nine when I had that dream, and I was the same age in it. I had it again seven more times. Four years later and not much has changed. I’m not on Nar Shaddaa, and I haven’t seen my brother since I was five. Don’t put too much stock in dreams.”

Eonur frowned, but nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Tyar said. Crossing his arms, he added, “Ugh, now you’ve gone and soured the mood. I was real’ excited for this too.”

Somewhere beneath them those remaining at the Jedi Temple were beginning to wake. There were some older Jedi already stirring, initiates and padawans who hadn’t yet left, but they were few in number. War had hollowed out the temple’s halls, and every day it seemed as though more left to fight for the Republic. It had raged on since he before was first brought to Coruscant, back on the day Orgus Din rescued him from Imperial captivity. If it was to ever end, Eonur doubted that such a day would occur in his lifetime.

Eonur hoped that perhaps by some stroke of luck he’d see the Jedi Master roaming the Great Hall one of these days, but it never happened. He’d only seen his rescuer once in the years following his liberation, just as he was boarding a starfighter with Bengel Morr. Too often he was away in battle. He’d hear stories of his valor, his heroism, and from personal experience Eonur knew they were all true. There’d been no opportunity to thank him, let alone for him to see the Jedi Eonur was becoming in large part to him. Even if it was once, a single exchange even, Eonur wished he could express the gratitude he held that words could not begin to capture.

Upon reaching the upper dormitories of the Jedi Temple, Tyar guided Eonur over to his room. His friend’s fingers danced along the keypad so quickly that he entered his own password incorrectly twice, and he barely waited for the door to slide open before pulling Eonur along with him inside. Tyar’s room was no different from his own, sharing the same simplicity, but it was due to this fact that the medium-sized lump under a black tarp by his desk became more readily apparent, even with the room still coated in dark. Eonur stopped in his tracks as Tyar dramatically gripped the tarp, poised for the unveiling.

“Okay, promise to be quiet?”

“What is that?”

“That,” Tyar started, “is not a yes. Promise to be quiet?”

Eonur waved him off. “Yeah, yeah I promise. Just show me!”

Without another word Tyar ripped off the tarp. An astromech droid lay on its side, just barely short enough to fit underneath Tyar’s desk. No lights blinked, and the droid did not whir or shake as most did when placed in such a position. In fact, it appeared as though it hadn’t been active for some time. Its metal plating was rusted in places along its dome, and its whole body was covered in dents and scratches. Several emitters had been smashed, and from a basic lookover it seemed impossible that the droid would ever be able to play holorecordings in its current state. Eonur ran his hand down the length of the droid, incurring a light film of dust and ash on his fingertips. Even the model seemed older, decades old at least.

“Where did you find this?” Eonur asked. He could barely mask the amazement in his voice.

“I was down in the lower city again-”

Eonur pressed his palm to his face. “Tyar…”

“No, I was careful! Nobody even saw me go. Anyways, I was exploring, and I came across this part of a wrecked cruiser. Somehow scrappers never got around to tearing it up.

“But that’s not the best part,” Tyar continued. He rolled the droid over onto its face. There, on its back, was a painted sigil of a horned creature, an icon all Jedi had become familiar with in the years past. Years ago, before his or Tyar’s own time at the Temple, ships bearing that emblem had torn Coruscant’s skies asunder.

Eonur met Tyar’s eyes. “It’s Mandalorian?”

His friend nodded excitedly. “Looks like. I heard that Mandos don’t even use droids all that often, so whatever they had this one for it must’ve been important.”

“Do you think it was shot down during Hydian Way?”

“That’s what makes the most amount of sense to me.”

“This is incredible,” Eonur breathed. “I can’t believe it survived crashing from orbit.”

“Can you fix it?”

Eonur shot Tyar a sideways glance. “Fix it?”

“Yeah. It might have some old recordings on it that the Republic never found. Even if not the droid’s in good enough shape that we could probably pry loose its memory core if need be. So, do you think you can?”

The last time he’d worked on droid maintenance was as a small child, but the skills he’d learned as a slave hadn’t left him either. Threats of beatings – often fulfilled – instilled that knowledge within him for life. Astromech droids were simple, at least compared to some war droids one of his masters possessed. They’d been armed with plasma and a self-destruct sequence in case of irreparable damage; a “parting gift” for his master’s enemies. Eonur doubted the little tin can would be carrying that same destructive capability.

“Sure, I can, but am I really the best one to have work on this? I mean, have you even told the council about it yet?”

Tyar’s grin faded as the question reached his ears, his mouth flattening into a taciturn line. The sudden grimness startled Eonur, but he remained quiet for his response. “If I told them they’d probably just confiscate it and we wouldn’t get to learn anything. I’d probably even get in trouble for going out on my own again. I just want this to remain between us.” His eyes carried the plea with a greater volume than his words could carry.

“What about Greylam?” Eonur asked, but he knew from Tyar’s scoffing that it would essentially be the same as telling the Jedi Council. Even he – Greylam’s most staunch advocate when it came to these matters – couldn’t deny that their friend’s first instinct would be to run and tell one of the Jedi Masters about Tyar’s discovery. He likely wouldn’t even understand what the problem would be.

“Think about it Eonur: we don’t know what kind of data this droid might have stored on it. If it has some battle plans, or schematics for Mando ships-”

“They would be outdated.”

“But it could give us insight to their strategies.” Tyar’s tone shifted, foregoing his grim seriousness in favor of the enthusiasm he’d held when he first unveiled the droid. “It’s possible we could even prevent another blockade. We’d be heroes!”

Heroics aside, Eonur couldn’t deny the appeal of Tyar’s reasoning. If the droid did carry any sensitive information it could be critical in the Republic’s war effort. The Mandalorian blockade had nearly cost them the war back before he’d even had the opportunity to join the Jedi Order, and it had cost countless soldiers their lives restoring peace to Coruscant. Without the smuggler Hylo Visz, the toll could’ve been even worse. This droid could prevent something like that from ever happening again; Jedi were as much the shields of the Republic as their swords.

They could prevent his nightmare from becoming a reality.

“Okay, I’ll help.”

Tyar pumped his fist, flashing a toothy and fanged smile. “Yes! I knew I could count on you.”

“We’ll need some tools before we get to work on it, but they shouldn’t be too hard to-”

A knock interrupted Eonur’s instruction, and both their heads turned towards the door. “Hide it!” Eonur whispered. Tyar threw the tarp back over the droid as Eonur backed himself up against the wall, attempting to lean against it nonchalantly. He knew without even a mirror that he was failing spectacularly at that.

The doors slid open at Tyar’s beckoning. “Oh, I really should’ve expected it to be you.”

Greylam Cormat stood in the doorway, his posture straight and narrow and completely emotionless, like always. Eonur didn’t even need to see his face – silhouetted against the hallway lights against Tyar’s dark room – to know that his expression too was devoid of any expression. It was a fact about Greylam that Eonur had never fully understood, how to heart he took the Jedi teaching of “there is no emotion; there is peace.” Perfect tranquility accompanied him in every activity, more so than some masters in the Order. Eonur was as awed by his devotion to the teachings as he was troubled by how unnatural it all seemed.

“You’re here early,” Tyar continued, crossing his arms as he braced himself against the doorframe. “How were the gardens? Successful meditation?”

“Meditation isn’t something that is successful or not. That is not the point of it.”

“That’s not…argh, never mind. Still, I’m surprised to see you Grey. For all you know I could’ve still been sleeping.”

“But you weren’t, not unless you and Eonur have begun cohabitating, but I know you haven’t. There are policies against such arrangements.” Greylam’s gaze tilted towards Eonur is the slightest of movements. “Good morning my friend. I checked your room first but did not find you there. You must have left minutes before my arrival.”

“Morning Greylam,” Eonur said. He crossed the room, hoping to block Greylam’s view of the desk from the door. “Is everything all right?”

“Of course,” Greylam replied, “There is nothing to be concerned over, but I was just curious if you two would actually remember today or not. It would appear not.”

“What in the heck are you talking about?” Tyar asked.

Eonur broke his gaze away from his friends as he wracked his brain for some earthly idea of what Greylam might be referring to. It wasn’t a holiday, and they’d made no plans for the day to spend together. Lessons wouldn’t start for a few more hours unless under special circumstances such as…

“Oh!” Eonur exclaimed, pushing himself up from against the desk. “Oh that’s right!”

“What?”

Excitement barred Eonur’s mind from processing all the words needed to convey what they were missing. “Master Melara! Training grounds!” How could they have possibly forgotten? They had talked about it on end since they were first told.

Understanding glinted in Tyar’s red eyes as they widened in a look of equal parts joy and horror. Without a word he bolted out the door past Greylam, who in turn watched quietly as the cathar sprinted down the hallway towards the elevators.

Eonur stopped beside Greylam, patting him on the shoulder. “Thanks for getting us.”

“You were late,” Greylam said, “And I was asked.”

“I owe you,” Eonur said, quickening his pace to catch up with Tyar, already down the hall. “At dinner tonight would you like my dessert?”

“That would be nice.” Although his face didn’t contain any hint of it, Eonur knew Greylam’s words were the closest he’d come to expressing any sort of excitement.

“Come on let’s go!” Tyar shouted from the end of the corridor. If other students weren’t awake yet, they were now.

It was hard not to feel excited, for today they started a pivotal step towards becoming Jedi Knights. They’d known the day was coming, and now it had finally arrived. Today, at long last, they were going to learn how to wield a lightsaber.

[dr-gloom]

You’re Scared

Summary: Based off this AMAZING prompt from @britbrodcast​! 

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairings: Platonic LAMP? what’s it called when Dee’s in it??? Who knows

Words: 4,774

Tags/Warnings: Virgil is spoopy but also a dork so it balances out, Patton is Concerned(tm), I guess this could be considered Sympathetic Deceit?, Idk, But he isn’t a bad snek so, mild swearing, angst, panic attack

Read it on AO3

fic masterlist

like what I do? buy me a coffee or GoFundMe

((i listened to all of Folie A Deux on repeat while writing this cause that’s like my default Virgil playlist honestly))

It was no secret to Thomas and the other sides that Virgil didn’t exactly get around like them. It’d been proven that he was capable of sinking out, but he always just, as Logan put it, “appeared”. Roman was convinced it was because he was really a Dark Side, but Patton wasn’t having any of that. Virgil was his sweet and sour son and there wasn’t a dark or sinister bone in his body. So no one knew how Virgil did it, or even why, because it wasn’t really asked. Maybe they didn’t mind, or maybe they were scared of the answer. Maybe Virgil really was a Dark Side; if that were true, well, ignorance is bliss. 

Patton was cooking lunch as he hummed along to some song on the small kitchen radio, chopping up some veggies when he turned to grab something and the knife slipped out of his hands and clattered to the floor, making him jump with a yelp. He held a hand to his heart, trying to calm himself as he glanced down at the knife now on the kitchen floor. A voice coming from above him startles him even more.

“Jeez Pat, be more careful. You could’ve seriously hurt yourself.” Patton looks around, confused when he doesn’t see anything. “Up here.” Patton looks up, eyes widening a bit as he spots Virgil on top of the fridge. How had he gotten up there? And how long had he been sitting there? “Oh, hey kiddo! You doin’ okay?” Patton remembered Virgil saying something about sitting in strange places on more... stressful days. Virgil shrugs, seeming to not have considered that. “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” Patton makes a small ‘o’ expression and nods. 

“Yep! No knife can hurt this cleaver dad!” He bends over and picks up the vegetable cleaver. Virgil rolls his eyes, swinging his legs to dangle over the side of the fridge. “That pun wasn’t cleaver.” He mutters. Patton giggles, just glad that Virgil is joking along with him. He knows the other is usually a little jumpy, cautious, reluctant to join the other five (the four other sides and Thomas, of course) in any kind of banter or fun-making. “Why don’t you come down from there and help your old man with lunch? Cheese?” 

“That one was just bad.”

“So it wasn’t Gouda.” Patton smiles brightly as Virgil snrks and hops down from the fridge straight to the floor. Patton almost protests - that can’t be good on his knees! - but Virgil seems unaffected. “How long were you sitting up there anyways? You too cool to say hi to your old man?” Patton thinks he hears a mutter of same age before Virgil replies, “I’ve been there the whole time. I just didn’t want to bother you.” Virgil isn’t looking at Patton, but Patton just figures it’s because he’s shy and ‘doesn’t like to be a bother to anyone’. He could never bother Patton! Patton loves his dark strange son. 

“Well gosh kiddo you know you can talk to me whenever! I love our talks.” He grins at the other as he gets a new, clean knife and Virgil moves the cut up veggies to the waiting pan. “I guess... You’re good, though?” Virgil glances over at Patton through his bangs, and Patton’s smile softens. “I’m okay. Thanks kiddo.”

Logan sits in his usual spot at the end of the couch, reading a book while the TV plays on in the background. Roman had started some sci-fi horror film, leaving part-way through when he was stricken with a sudden idea. Of course, this often happened, so Logan didn’t mind the background noise that was more like a quiet static underneath his focus. Judging by the music and increased screaming, Logan would venture a guess that the movie was nearing the climax. He turned the page, further tuning out the movie as he became immersed in the world of Mr. Heathcliff at Wuthering Heights. 

He made it through nearly half of the book before his focus waned again, the sounds of someone - most likely Roman - coming down the hall caught his attention. His suspicions were proven correct when the princely figure plopped down on the opposite end of the couch and picked up the remote, seamlessly putting on another movie without a second’s thought. It goes through the ads, and the dreaded THX sound blares out of the speakers. Logan jumps, dropping his book, looking around. Roman looks just as startled, despite being the one who put the movie on, and mutters an apology. Virgil sits on the back of the couch (when did he get here???) and leans down, snatching the remote from Roman and quickly turning it down. 

“Seriously Princey, you’re going to make us all deaf.”

Roman and Virgil launch into a fit of banter as Logan watches them silently, now feeling calmer and thinking to himself. How odd; he was certain Virgil was in his room just a moment ago. He obviously knew of Virgil’s penchant for Appearing(tm) places, but he almost always walks around like the rest of them when in the Mind Palace. So why Appear(tm) now? They weren’t in any imminent danger. Logan thought of asking, but with how cryptic and vague Virgil tended to be, he doubted he’d get a real answer. Virgil turns to look at Logan, eyebrow raised. “What?” Logan blinks. “Ah, it’s nothing. You just startled me with your appearance, that’s all.”

“Yeah, Edgar Allen Woe, quit popping up like that! It’s so rude.” 

Virgil tenses slightly, and if Logan hadn’t been studying him so closely he knows he would have missed it. “Maybe the valiant prince should learn to keep his guard up if he wants to be good at protecting people.” Roman opens his mouth to quip back when Logan cuts him off. “Now Virgil, you know that’s absurd; you’re the protector of the five of us. Well, I suppose Deceit is as well to some degree, but your role presents in a more physical aspect.” Virgil blows a puff of air and shrugs, slinking off the couch and heading back to the hallway.

“Hold on, Wizard of Odd, watch a movie with us. You’ve been in your room all day.” 

Virgil pauses and looks between the two sides before shrugging just slightly and sitting between Roman and Logan, with a comfortable distance between each. Roman and Logan share a look before they both move to sit so there’s only a few inches of space between each side, Roman grinning satisfactorily and grabbing the remote to put on Big Hero 6 - something all three of them enjoy. Logan isn’t one for physical contact, but he knows that Virgil can be when he’s in the right mood and yet will never ask for it, so he’s more than happy to nudge the boundaries of his comfort zone to help him out. As the movie starts though, Logan’s mind wanders over the information he’d gathered while observing the anxious side. Now to figure out what it all meant...

Dee rarely had the commons to himself. Since his appearance in Can Lying Be Good? the others have... sort of accepted him into the fold. They’re still a bit on edge around him, for obvious reasons, but he can tell they’re trying. And it’s appreciated, really, but it can be... tense, and exhausting. So he tends to stay away unless it’s famILY meal time, as Patton puts it, or if only one sides is in the room. He can deal with any of them on their own, but two or more of them and the atmosphere became too muddled. Too conflicted. 

So Dee preferred these times on his own, knowing that Roman had taken Patton into his strange fantasy realm and that Logan was off somewhere, categorizing memories or... something. He can’t remember. He knew Virgil tended to keep to his room as well, and honestly he wouldn’t mind if the other came to join him either way, so he settled onto the couch and turned the TV on. After a while, he decided to settle on some children’s show Thomas ha been getting into, Duck Tales. Honestly (ha, honestly), Dee didn’t see the appeal, but since he was part of Thomas an this strange famILY, he figured he might as well try. 

He thinks back to the day he revealed himself to Thomas, his mouth quirking to the side. That.... could have gone worse. But it could have gone better, too. He had been trying to help Thomas, that’s always his intention, but even he could see that there was a better way to do so. How was Thomas supposed to trust anything he said if he went around pretending to be someone else, both physically when he looked like Patton and characteristically when he acted the part of the bad guy. 

But it had gone so well for Virgil.

“Half-truth.” Even Dee got caught in his lies sometimes; he had to remind himself of when he was actually lying, and what the truth meant. Sure, Virgil had essentially done the same as Dee, but the other had eventually started to act more like himself around the other sides and began building relationships. The others actually started trusting Virgil and liking him. But Dee? They didn’t know much about him, they had few interactions with him, so how could they possibly feel the same for him as they do about Virgil, who’s been around for years? 

I need them to like me.

“Lie.” He didn’t need their approval to do his job, or even exist. His existence up to this point was proof of that. 

I want them to like me.

“Why?” He was aware he was talking to himself in the middle of the living room, but he honestly didn’t care; it’s not like anyone could hear him.

Because I’m lonely.

Dee’s brow furrowed. “Truth...” And it was. It scared him, but it was true. He’d never admit out loud how he felt, but the feeling was as old and familiar to him as lying itself. Before, he hadn’t paid any mind to it; he’d contented himself on performing to his best, keeping Thomas’ relationships afloat and keeping everyone happy. He lived vicariously through Thomas’ interactions with his friends, found happiness and peace in their laughter and their smiles and their shared jokes. That’s why he fought so hard to keep it that way.

But now? Now he had something to draw his focus, something he could lose. As fragile as it was, he had some sort of relationship with the other sides now and he couldn’t mess it up. If he had to go back to Thomas’ subconscious, alone...

I’m scared. 

“Hi scared, I’m Virgil.” Dee jumped, falling off the couch. He laid on his back in shock, staring up at Virgil who was hanging upside down from the spinning ceiling fan, legs spread as they were each hooked over separate wings. His hair dangled in the air, giving a rare sight of his whole face. Virgil sighed as the fan spun him until his back was facing Dee. “Of all the places...” He comes back around. “You okay, Dee?” Dee stares up at him, sitting up slowly and watching him spin around lazily. 

“How did you-?” 

Virgil smirks slightly, but it doesn’t look snarky or menacing. “I’m anxiety, I know fear. If you’re so scared of being alone, try being yourself.” Dee scoffs lightly. “It’s very easy.” Virgil frowns slightly, brushing a hand through his hair (which does nothing, he’s upside down). “Try taking them to your room.” Dee’s room was one of the very few places he could actually speak the truth without his words being twisted without his consent. He rubs his face with a sigh. “They’ll believe me. I never lie.” Virgil hums as he’s spun away again, answering as he’s brought back to face Dee. “I could come with you. They know that I know you, and they trust me, I could convince them if they don’t believe you.” 

Dee watches Virgil spin around one more time before speaking up. “Why are you up there?” He found out long ago that questions are something he can speak without them being twisted. Virgil shrugs, which looks a bit strange upside down. “You know how this works just as well as I do, Dee. When someone-” 

“Yes, yes. I don’t mean... Why are you still up there? Don’t come down.” Virgil looks at Dee’s face for a moment before curling up to grip the fan, then maneuvering his legs so he was danging upright. He lets go of the fan and lands on his feet in front of Dee, offering him a hand. “Come on, Princey and Patton should be back soon, we can do this together.” 

Dee nods, taking Virgil’s hand and standing up. 

Roman panted loudly as he ran, feet pounding on the solid Earth beneath him, causing small puffs of dust to rise and trail behind him. He was sweating; it was hot out and he’d been running for a good ten minutes, with the monster never showing a sign of faltering or tiring. He curses under his breath as his empty scabbard hits the back of his thigh with every other step. If he hadn’t lost his sword... 

The monster roars, the sound loud and cacophonous, making birds in the surrounding field take off in flight. Roman feels his heart leap as he pushes on past his growing fatigue, trying to remember where he put the door. He runs until he sees the local village, and makes a beeline for it. The door wasn’t far from the other side of the village, he was almost there. Roman stumbles, almost falling and regaining his footing and just barely escaping the monster’s claws. It roars in anger again, gnashing it’s teeth. Roman spares a glance over his shoulder as he nears the edge of the village, paling at the sight of the monster gaining on him. He runs through the streets, calling at the villagers to turn and run as the monster comes thundering after him, carelessly crushing stalls underfoot and ramming into buildings as it passed. Roman swallows around the lump in his throat, his heartbeat deafening his ears, his legs complaining from being pushed so far for so long. 

Roman looks over his shoulder at the monster once again, not seeing the cart in front of him and crashing into it with the right side of his body, sending him sprawling to the ground. He halts himself with his hands, getting to his hands and knees just as a shadow blocks out the sun overhead. 

Roman rolls to sit, resting back on his hands, eyes wide, hair and clothes disheveled, staring up at the monster looming over him, snarling. It’s breath is hot, and reeks of decaying flesh. Roman gags, his heart thundering in his chest and his arms shaking. He feels along the ground for something, anything, as he refuses to look away from the beast. Oh god, he’s going to die. This thing is going to kill him and Thomas will never have an idea ever again and Patton will cry and Virgil will never leave his room and Logan will- 

There’s a familiar scream as the monster goes in for the attack, and Roman looks over to see... Virgil? No, not just that..

Virgil.

Stuck in a stone wall.

Looking absolutely terrified as he watches Roman just lay there as this monster-

Roman tears his gaze away long enough to roll to the side, just missing the jaw of the beast and jumping to his feet, running to Virgil. 

“Virge! What are you-? How did you even-?” Virgil looks like he’d been falling through the wall when it decided to solidify around him; his left arm is encased in stone almost up to the elbow as well as half of his right hand. His left leg is almost completely in stone, the upper half of his thigh the only denim showing. His right leg is free though, dangling at an odd angle due to Virgil being several inches above the ground. Even some of his hair seems to be caught in the stone, keeping him from moving his head too much. 

Virgil isn’t looking at Roman though; his terrified gaze is locked on the monster behind him, clawing at the ground and getting ready to charge. Virgil’s breathing is shallow and uneven, and what Roman can see of him is trembling like a leaf. “R-Roman-!” Virgil screams again as the monster charges, and Roman spins around, summoning his sword just in time to bring it up and block the monster’s claws, pushing it back a step. It roars and Virgil’s breathing does something funny. Shit, Roman needs to end this soon and help him out.

Roman goes on the offensive now, attacking the monster with a vengeance. He can’t let this thing defeat him or hurt Virgil! He cuts the monster’s arm, blood gushing from the deep wound as it screams and rears back on it’s hind legs, then comes down on Roman. Roman runs toward it, sliding down to his knees as the front paws near the ground, and brings his sword up to stab into the monster’s stomach, cutting it open as he slides to a halt. Blood covers both him and the Earth around him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, clamping his jaw. Monster blood, eugh. 

Roman takes a moment to just sit there, catching his breath and letting the tremors leave his body before he stands and tries to wipe some of the blood from his face. He turns to look at Virgil, large grin dying on his face as soon as he takes in the other’s appearance. 

Virgil is an absolute mess. He’s shaking uncontrollably, sobbing loudly as tears race down his cheeks, his breathing quick and panicked, eyes wide, staring right at Roman. Roman frowns with concern and raises a hand, taking a couple steps closer, but when Virgil’s breathing gets worse he stops. Shit, what is he supposed to do now? His friend is literally stuck in a wall and having a panic attack and Roman is covered in-

He wants to slap himself for being so stupid. He snaps his fingers instead, and instantly all the blood is gone, along with the monster’s corpse. Roman holds both hands up placatingly as he slowly, so slowly, moves closer to Virgil. Virgil tries to speak, but with how hard he’s crying and how much he’s panicking he can’t form a coherent sound, much less a sentence. Roman gently shushes him and rests a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “It’s alright, Virge. It’s okay. The monster’s gone, it can’t hurt you or me. You’re safe. Everyone’s safe. We’re okay. Just breathe.” Roman stumbles through Virgil’s breathing exercise a few times until Virgil is mostly calmed down, now just crying softly with the occasional soft whimper. “there you go, you’re doing great, Virge. Everything’s okay. We’re safe. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Roman feels the stone wall, frowning slightly. It certainly feels like solid stone, so then how did Virgil..? “Virge? How did you get here?” 

Virgil sniffs and looks at his arm poking out from the stone. “I-” No use in hiding it now, “When people- sides- experience fear, if I’m too distracted to filter it out, it summons me. You... You were scared...” Realization dawns on Roman’s face and he sighs softly. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this, Virge. I’m sorry I scared you.” Virgil shakes his head. “You didn’t know. Besides, you can’t help how you feel.” Roman hums and raps his knuckles on the stone. “How are we supposed to get you out of this?” 

Virgil actually looks embarrassed. “I... I can’t sink out like this.” Roman just looks at him. “You mean...”

“Yeah.”

“Poseidon’s trident. Alright, I’ll go... recruit some help.”

It took nearly three hours for Roman and the village men to chip away at the wall enough to free Virgil, and the entire time the anxious side had been tense, flinching any time a pick came too close for comfort. Roman had been there to reassure him, and once they freed his leg, Roman helped him to the ground. As they were walking toward the other end of the village, to the door leading back to the Mind Palace, Roman spoke. “This is going to make such an epic tale!” Virgil just snrks and shakes his head, earning a quizzical look from Roman. “What?”

“No one will ever believe you.”

((lol did you think we were done?))

On one of Thomas’ rare days off - no videos to make, no plans with friends, no need to visit the store, not even a phone call to be made - all five of the sides were relaxing with Thomas in his apartment. Roman and Patton were playing some old video game on the TV, Logan was reading at the table, and Dee was laying across the other end of the couch, his head in Thomas’ lap and Thomas’ hand carding though his hair. Thomas sighs happily as he closes his eyes, listening to Roman and Patton shout and jeer and make a general ruckus, the occasional page flipping from Logan, and Dee’s soft relaxed breathing. Virgil was around here somewhere... Thomas was honestly bummed that the anxious side hadn’t wanted to hang out with them; even Dee was  trying to get past his discomfort to spend some time with all of them! But he supposed it couldn’t be helped. Virgil was anxiety, Thomas was sure some social settings just weren’t his thing. 

Patton and Roman finished their game and suggested a movie, to which everyone agreed happily. Thomas stood as Dee sat up, making his way over to the TV and looking through his DVDs, grabbing Toy Story and popping it int he DVD player and sitting next to Dee again. The five of them got comfortable as the movie started, Thomas wishing for the dozenth time that day that Virgil felt comfortable enough to be here with them. 

Twenty minutes into the movie, Thomas starts feeling a fluttering of nervousness in his chest. This confuses him, because he doesn’t have any reason to be anxious or scared right now. No one’s arguing, he doesn’t have any deadlines approaching, the movie isn’t even scary. And yet... 

Thirty minutes into the movie and Thomas is feeling anxious. He fidgets, unable to focus on one thing, eyes darting around a bit as his heart starts to speed up. He does the breathing exercise Virgil taught him, and keeps doing it because it doesn’t seem to be working. He hopes his sides don’t notice; he doesn’t want to worry them unnecessarily. 

Forty-five minutes in and Thomas is verging on a panic attack. His heart is beating too fast, and his mind is racing too much for him to even figure out what he’s panicking about. His chest feels tight, and he feels light-headed. He slowly and gently slips his hand into Dee’s and squeezes lightly. Dee glances at him, frowns, and squeezes back. Thomas doesn’t answer his questioning look. He doesn’t know what’s wrong either. 

Fifty minutes in and Thomas is openly having a panic attack. Patton pauses the movie, face etched in concern, and crouches in front of Thomas. Roman sits on his other side, taking his free hand and rubbing his thumb over the back of Thomas’ hand. Logan puts a hand on his shoulder, reassuring him that everything’s okay, he’s safe. But Thomas knows he’s safe, he knows everything’s fine, he just doesn’t know why he’s panicking and that’s freaking him out even more and that panic leads to more panic and- 

“V-Virgil-” Thomas gets out, and Patton nods, standing and heading for the stairs. He’s not even on the third step when Virgil appears. 

Except he doesn’t just appear. He falls into the room. Through the ceiling. As soon as his head pops out he’s screaming, black eye shadow streaked down his face - just like Thomas thought, he’d been panicking too. Virgil is screaming, terrified out of his mind. He stops falling, which confuses Thomas and seems to scare Virgil even more, because now he’s hanging from the ceiling by one ankle, his other limbs akimbo. His face is covered in running makeup, his clothes are rumpled, and he’s crying uncontrollably, screaming every time he moves and it causes him to sway a bit. 

In an instant, Patton is moving to stand right below him, trying to calm him down while stretching to reach him. Logan rushes to the dining area, grabbing a chair and bringing it over. Patton doesn’t hesitate to climb on top of it, cupping Virgil’s cheeks and petting his hair, trying to support his head and keep him from moving too much. Dee fidgets beside a stunned Thomas; he wants to help, but he doesn’t know how he can. He can’t reassure Virgil because he can only speak in lies. He’s honestly a little freaked out because he’s never seen this happen before. That is, he’s never seen Virgil come plummeting through the ceiling. Logan goes and grabs two more chairs, both soon occupied by himself and Roman, who are both trying to help Patton calm Virgil down and support his weight so he doesn’t feel like he’s dangling by a foot. 

Logan turns to the two remaining Sanders on the couch. “Please do try to calm down, he can’t calm down if you’re panicking.” Dee bites his tongue and nods, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to calm down. Thomas does the same and the two of them watch as the other three slowly calm Virgil. It feels like hours before he stops screaming and crying, but he never stops shaking. Patton and Roman stay on the chairs, petting Virgil’s hair and keeping his head propped up, gently stroking his cheeks, shoulders, chest, anything to ground him. 

“We need to devise a way to free Virgil’s foot from the ah... Ceiling.” Thomas looks from Virgil to Logan, now standing in front of him. “How? Do we need to... Break it?” Virgil makes a panicked sound and Thomas clarifies. “The ceiling! Not your foot, oh god Virgil, not your foot.” Patton shushes Virgil gently and Roman speaks up. 

“Yeah, we’ll have to free his foot manually. He can’t sink out when he’s like this.” Thomas hums with concern, trying to think if he has anything that can help. 

“Oh!” He runs off, shooting up the stairs and coming back a moment later with a toolbox. Logan’s face lights up in recognition. “We will have to be very careful-” He lowers his voice, “or we may injure Virgil.” Thomas nods and sets the toolbox on the couch, taking out the two hammers sitting within and handing them to Logan. Logan takes them and holds one out to Dee. “I require your assistance.” 

Dee’s eyes widen. “Me?” Logan nods. “The other two will be preoccupied with keeping Virgil calm. It will only take longer if I do it by myself.” Dee nods nervously and grabs another chair, getting on it along with Logan on his chair and he glances at Virgil. “We... We will get you out soon.” He makes eye contact with Virgil, who nods shakily. Dee can tell the truth, if he tries hard enough, but it takes a lot of effort, so he saves it for important moments. Dee and Logan slowly start hammering at the plaster, and when Virgil whimpers Patton and Roman talk to him to distract him. As the ceiling around Virgil’s foot is broken away, Patton and Roman slowly start supporting more and more of Virgil’s weight. Once his foot is finally free, Logan and Dee slowly and gently lower his legs. Once he’s upright, he clings tightly to Patton, trembling uncontrollably. Patton holds onto Virgil protectively, one hand on the back of Virgil’s head. The others get down and put the chairs back, and Logan starts vacuuming up the mess as Patton and Virgil finally get down. Virgil refuses to let go of Patton as they sit on the couch, and Thomas immediately moves to Virgil’s free side and hugs him as well. 

Once everything’s cleaned and put away, the other sides join them on the couch, Logan next to Patton and Roman next to Thomas, with Dee spread out across everyone’s laps. Virgil intertwines his fingers with Dee’s as Roman puts on the Black Cauldron. Virgil falls asleep soon after. 

A/N: The Dee part is my favorite. I haven’t had a chance to write him (aside from one fic where he’s an abusive ass) and I’ve had all these ideas buzzing in my head so I just had to do it. Plus, when I thought “what would scare Dee?” I instantly thought “the truth”. But it’d have to be a truth Dee was at least semi-unaware of; something that he didn’t recognize or dwell on, because he’d be admitting to something he’d rather not acknowledge. So it was part me-wanting-to-analyze and part can’t-rush-the-fear-factor. This was SOOOOO much fun to write!

[sandersfander1820]

I’m Here: Part One

Summary: Patton has soulmates. For most people, that wouldn’t be a problem… But Patton isn’t most people.

Words: 4,155

Author’s Note: I had actually started to write this before I brought a prompt of “Patton angst soulmate AU” to @pieceofshir. She actually did a fantastic little fic of this and I highly suggest going and reading it because it was really good. But here’s the first part of the fic I started writing as well.

Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | ?

He was in first grade when pen marks and marker swipes started showing up on his hands and arms.

At first, Patton didn’t think anything of it. He didn’t really pay much attention to it and didn’t notice it at first. That, and he probably made some of the marks himself in his rush to color his drawings and stuff.

But he really started to notice the morning that he woke up to see a picture of three purple stick figures drawn on his arm. The lines were squiggly and not very steady, but Patton loved it. It was cute. Two of the stick people were a lot taller than the other one, the short one in the middle and seemingly holding hands with the others. They all had smiles on their faces.

So Patton nearly flew out of bed to show his mom and dad before he got ready for school.

The second his mother saw the drawing, she gasped and dragged him to the bathroom and started scrubbing at his arm. The entire time, she was scolding him and just about yelling about how he should never draw on himself and how he would end up with ink poisoning or something.

The scrubbing hurt. She was using one of their old washcloths that was kind of scratchy, one of the ones Patton hated using for anything because it wasn’t soft. But she’d wet it down and scrubbed some soap into it and rubbed it over and over and over Patton’s skin, rubbing it red and raw.

And Patton was crying. Because he hadn’t drawn it, and he tried telling his mom that, but she wouldn’t listen. Even when it wouldn’t come off and the drawing was stuck there, she continued scrubbing, her face pinched in an angry frown, putting more pressure into the movements until Patton was nearly screaming, yanking his arm out of her grasp and holding it to his chest.

“Don’t you ever do that again!”

And Patton ran back to his room, crying so hard he was nearly hyperventilating. There was snot running from his nose, salty tears streaming wildly down his cheeks and dripping off his chin.

It was a little while before Patton calmed down, pulling his arm away from his chest and inspecting the raw skin. Just moving his arm pulled at the skin that was stinging and burning. Patton whimpered to himself just as his mother came in.

“Patton, come here,” she said, motioning for him to come stand in front of her.

He was hesitant to do so, but he knew she would get angry if he defied her. So he stood and moved closer, coming to a stop and not looking his mother in the eye.

“Give me your arm, darling.” She held out her hand. He gave it to her and winced a little as she rubbed some ointment over the stinging skin before wrapping gauze around his arm.

“Now, you’re going to wear a long sleeve shirt today, okay? And if someone sees the bandage, you tell them you fell down and hurt yourself. Got it?”

Patton looked up at her briefly before looking back down and nodding.

“Okay. Get ready for school, sweetheart,” she said before leaving down the hallway.

Patton sniffled a little, looking for his only clean long sleeved shirt. The school he went to had uniforms, and since their winters only ever got mildly cold, Patton only had two long sleeve white polos. And one of them was stained, and his mom didn’t know that yet, so he had to find the other one. Thankfully, it didn’t take long. He still wore his shorts, not wanting to be too hot during the day.

So then he went and ate a bowl of cereal and brushed his teeth and let his dad comb his hair for the day. His dad handed him his packed lunch and told him to go grab his backpack. Patton did so and met the man by the back door to get in the car and head to school.

Patton felt a little bit better after his dad talked to him in the car, letting him sit in the front seat even though he knew he shouldn’t since he wasn’t big enough yet. His dad explained how writing on himself could hurt him if he did it too much, and that his mom had hurt herself a long time ago when she did it.

But Patton vowed to never so much as accidentally get a pen mark on his finger when writing.

Virgil was Patton’s best friend. They were in the same class and sat next to each other at the same table. Virgil was sort of quiet where Patton was excitable, but they were basically inseparable. They played together at recess and had sleepovers almost every weekend at one of their houses. Virgil’s parents called Patton their “second son”, and Patton’s parents loved having Virgil around because he was famously able to keep Patton fairly contained.

So when Patton showed up in class that morning, Virgil was immediately at his side.

“Hi, Pat,” Virgil said, a smile on his face.

“Hi, Virgil,” Patton greeted back. He didn’t hold his usual bounce and excitement, and Virgil was bound to notice it.

“Are you okay?”

And there it was. The concern. Virgil was very serious, and rather mature for his age. So he noticed things that other kids their age wouldn’t, and Patton kinda liked it.

Patton smiled a little brighter, nodding his head. “I’m okay.”

Virgil looked at him skeptically for a second.

“Come on, come color with me!” Patton nearly yelled, taking Virgil’s wrist and pulling the other boy over to their table with him, sitting them down in their chairs.

Patton didn’t notice right away. But when he did, he was sort of confused.

Because Virgil had the same drawing on his arm. It was the same squiggly purple lines and the same stick figures holding hands with the same smiles.

Patton wasn’t sure what had happened. How could he have the same drawing on his arm as Virgil? Was Virgil the one who drew it? Should Patton ask about it?

So Patton waited until the teacher let them go with their group work. Then he whispered to Virgil, sort of ignoring the other two kids at their table who were diligently working together to do their addition.

“Did you draw that?” Patton asked quietly, pointing at Virgil’s arm that was uncovered since he was wearing a short sleeve polo.

Virgil looked down at the picture for a second before looking up at his friend with a smile. “Uh huh! It’s me and my mom and dad. Mom really liked it.”

“Shouldn’t you not draw on yourself?” Patton asked.

Virgil’s eyebrows furrowed a bit, looking at his friend. “My mom and dad write to each other all the time…”

“They… write to each other?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, tapping his pencil quickly against the table. “They’re soulmates.”

Patton didn’t know what that meant. He thought maybe he’d heard the term “soulmates” before, but he didn’t know what they were.

So all he said was, “oh.”

“Mom,” Patton said on the ride home. “What are soulmates?”

“Soulmates aren’t real, Patton,” his mother said simply. Her tone had a finality to it that Patton did not want to challenge.

Besides, Mom knew a lot of things. He figured she was right about this too. Soulmates weren’t real, whatever they were.

Soon after the first drawing appeared, a lot of other ones did too. Virgil often used purple, which Patton knew was his favorite color. But there seemed to be two other people that were leaving them drawings as well. One of them favored the color red, but often used other colors as well, and another liked the colors blue and black.

And Patton never said anything about how he found these drawings on himself. He never showed them to his parents again, but Virgil would show him the red and blue drawings every morning when they met in class.

Patton pretended he hadn’t seen them before, because somehow, it seemed wrong that he be included in this.

So weeks turned into years, and later, it wasn’t just drawings. There were words. They started writing to each other and leaving messages. Virgil, Ro, and Lo got to know each other slowly. And Patton watched.

Until sixth grade.

In sixth grade, both of the homerooms were gathered in the gym to have a talk about Soulmates.

Patton, who had long been under the impression that soulmates weren’t real, was confused. Why would the school talk to them about something that didn’t exist? Unless it was to tell them all that soulmates weren’t actually real and that there was some other explanation for why everyone found writing on their skin.

Yeah, that was it. They were going to debunk (a word Patton learned from Lo the other day) everything to do with the whole “soulmate” thing.

Except… they didn’t. They were sat down and introduced to this group of people (note: couples), mostly in their late teens and early twenties. They had the sixth graders doing all sorts of activities for about an hour and a half, talking about soulmates and what being a soulmate means.

Soulmates were two or more people who were destined to be with each other. Scientists were still searching for how the connections work and why certain people are connected together and others aren’t, but every set of soulmates were “meant to be”. They love each other implicitly and anything that they wrote or drew on their skin would show up on their soulmate’s skin.

So… so this meant that his mother was wrong. She had lied to him.

“Patton?” his father asked in the car on the way home. Patton spared a brief glance over at the man he looked so much like before turning his eyes back to the window.

“What?”

“Everything alright, kiddo?”

“Fine.”

“You. Lied. To me.” Patton accused angrily at home.

His father came into the room quickly from hanging the car keys back on the hook by the door.

Patton’s mother looked at him, surprised, from her seat on the couch. “Patton… what?”

“You lied to me! You told me soulmates weren’t real, but you lied!” Patton yelled, throwing his backpack to the floor. “They talked to us today! They told us all about soulmates and soulmarks!”

“Patton-”

“Why would you lie to me?! You wouldn’t believe me when I said I didn’t draw on myself, and you told me soulmates didn’t exist! And you knew! You must have known! Everyone knows about soulmates! Why didn’t I?”

A sort of dangerous look came over his mother’s face. Her eyes hardened in a way that Patton didn’t like but wouldn’t back down from. Because Patton’s emotions governed many of the things he did. And in this case, right now, Patton was angry.

“Patton, do not speak to your mother that way,” she warned.

“No.” Patton lifted his chin higher, his anger working to add much more bravado to his stature than usual.

A slight pause. “Excuse you?”

“No. Answer me,” Patton demanded harshly. “Why did you lie?”

The room was silent for a moment too long. Patton didn’t like it, and he could tell his dad was standing behind him, watching the situation unfold before him with no idea what to do.

But then, finally, she spoke. “Soulmates are useless, Patton. Anyone who believes in those childish fairy tales are setting themselves up for heartbreak and a life of torment and agony. You need to learn to grow up before you start demanding answers about things you don’t even understand.”

Patton’s face flashed with shock. For a second, his voice refused to cooperate with him.

“I didn’t lie to you. Soulmates don’t exist.”

Without another word, Patton stormed from the room, snagging his backpack from the ground as he stomped up the stairs and down the hallway, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

He didn’t know why his mother was so adamant that soulmates weren’t real, but one thing was for sure: Patton didn’t believe her. Patton had three soulmates out there, and one of them was his best friend who he would see in homeroom tomorrow morning.

And Patton was angry.

Virgil talked to Patton about their soulmates often. He showed the other boy his markings and drawings and let his friend read all the messages that Ro and Lo left. Of course, Patton was already very familiar with each and every mark. He saw them when he woke up in the morning since Ro seemed to do most of his line memorization at night, the same as when Virgil practiced his poetry. Lo seemed to have an earlier sleep schedule and woke up much earlier than the others did, and practiced “simple” (read: advanced) algebraic equations to get his brain moving.

And Patton watched them appear throughout the day. While he was extremely careful at every second to ensure he never ended up with pen marks on his hands, they showed up anyway, mostly from Virgil, whose hands could be rather shaky, depending on how bad his anxiety was.

One time, Patton had even gone so far as to put a band-aid over a whole rainbow that had been left on the back of his hand. It’s not as if he could wash it off, and… after all this time, whatever order the other three had seemed to find worked. And it worked well. Patton was certain none of them had a clue that they had a fourth soulmate.

And Patton had always been rather empathetic. He worried to himself a lot whether his presence would mess up the flow and rhythm Virgil, Ro, and Lo had together. Because Patton hadn’t made himself known at the beginning of all this. He hadn’t drawn back to the others when Virgil’s very first drawing had shown up on them. Lo had left a check mark and Ro had left a star, both indicating that they liked the stick figures.

But… he could feel them, sometimes. Or, he thought he could. When Virgil got really jittery, Patton couldn’t really sit still. And when Ro had performed in his first play, Patton wanted to sing for hours (and he had, playing video after video on YouTube). When Lo wins a debate with his junior high debate team, Patton couldn’t help but smile and wish that he could learn everything there was to know in the whole universe.

Could they feel him? It felt exciting that they might, because… it’s not like Patton didn’t want to be a part of what they have. He could honestly say he cared about them, because he did. But it had been his own fault that they didn’t really know him.

Or… no. It wasn’t his fault. It was his mother’s. It was her fault for telling him that soulmates didn’t exist. Her fault that he had been so scared to so much as accidentally make a tally mark on his fingers as he went to cap a pen.

But Patton ignored all that.

He listened to Virgil with rapt attention when he spoke about their soulmates. And Patton heard about when they all reached high school and had supposedly all gotten cellphones around the same time. Ro turned into Roman and Lo became Logan, and Patton didn’t really see a lot of drawings or writings on himself anymore. Because the three of them texted, and they called and followed each other on their social media.

And any sense of connection Patton had once hoped he could have was left in the dust. Because they had moved on to a point in their relationship that Patton couldn’t hope to achieve. He couldn’t catch up. Because he might talk and text with Virgil and often spent at least 75% of their time together, but it was different. Virgil may be his best friend, but Patton was certain that was all he saw them as.

So Patton ignored it all. The math equations, the play lines, and poems - he didn’t read them anymore. He let Virgil show him when they spent time together and Virgil got so pent up that he just had to gush for a while about all the awesome things that Roman and Logan were and did and were going to be.

Years passed, and Patton could honestly say he couldn’t remembered the last time he wore a short sleeve shirt. He wore long sleeve polos and sweaters or jackets all the time. He had gotten glasses back in freshman year when a teacher finally asked him why he wasn’t writing down any of the notes and the answer was that he couldn’t see the board.

His father had taken him to the eye doctor and the doctor had confirmed that Patton had probably needed glasses for years and no one had noticed. So now he had a pair of thick rimmed, black glasses.

That night, Patton had snapchatted Virgil about the glasses and the first thing Virgil said was, “wow you look just like Logan!”.

Patton had cried.

Somewhere around the same time, some kids at school had started whispering about Patton behind his back. It took a while for him to notice, but when he did, he heard things like “I bet he hasn’t got a soulmate”, “covers his arms to hide it”, “he probably gets beaten at home.”

There were worse one, too. “Freak.” “Idiot.” “Airhead.” “Walking bad pun.” “Incomplete.”

“Unwanted.”

For exactly one week, Patton didn’t talk to anyone. Not Virgil, not his biology group for class, not his teachers, not his parents. No one. Virgil followed him around at school, constantly attempting to get Patton to talk to him. And when that failed, he went to their counselor. She had called Patton into her office and tried to talk to him, and during that time, Patton said two words.

“I’m fine.”

On Friday night, Patton’s father loaded him into the car with a packed overnight bag and dropped him at Virgil’s house with no warning.

The two spent three hours sitting in silence.

Until Virgil spoke up, his voice hard and guarded. “Let me see your arms.”

A flash of panic ripped through Patton, and for the briefest of moments, it intensified because it seemed as if he friend had noticed. But then he schooled the feelings away and crossed his arms.

“Why?”

“Because,” Virgil said simply.

“That’s not a reason.”

“I don’t care. Show me your arms.”

“No.”

Patton didn’t know if there was writing there or not. Virgil was wearing something long sleeved too, and Patton hadn’t seen his own arms since that morning. This was not the way he wanted Virgil to find out they were soulmates, if that day were to come at all.

But Virgil was persistent, and Patton’s nerves were frayed. So eventually, Patton stole a blanket from his friend’s bed, laid down, and did his very best to got o sleep. It worked after a while.

Of course, not before he over heard a conversation that he shouldn’t have been privy to. He missed the first part of it, not having noticed when Virgil had opened his laptop and started up a Skype call.

“Honestly, I just don’t get it! What could have happened?”

“Well, has he informed you of any bullying at school? Or perhaps a family situation?”

“No, Logan! Patton would have said something… Right? I mean… I’m his best friend…”

“True, but there are some things people don’t wish to share with others, no matter how close they may be.”

“No, not something this big. He knows that I’m here for him, no matter what.”

“What, exactly, are you worried he has done?”

“I… I think he’s… hurting himself…”

“…oh.”

“Oh? That’s all you have to say?”

“I… do not know how I should respond in this instance. Perhaps if you are that worried, you should talk to an adult about it.”

“I tried. He won’t listen to them either.”

“Then you may just have to wait and see what happens. If you are unwilling to invade his privacy, and he won’t talk to the adults, there is not much else for you to do.”

“…”

“I know that face… There’s something else. What is it?”

“I dunno, Logan… He’s been by my side since… since forever. I can’t bear the thought of losing him…”

“How so? As a friend?”

“I… I dunno. There’s something. God, I wish you could talk to him, Logan. You’d understand what I mean. There’s something special about Patton…”

“Like, say… if you lost me or Roman?”

“…”

“Virgil?”

“Yeah, a lot like that…”

Patton’s heart had jumped into his throat. After a second of silence, he pretended to yawn and shift, as if still asleep. He hoped that the movement would cause Virgil to cut the conversation short and say goodnight to Logan. Because Patton didn’t want to listen to anymore of it.

Thankfully, Virgil did end up saying goodnight to the other soon after, stating that he was afraid that Patton might wake form the noise.

Patton really did fall asleep quickly after that.

The next day, Patton forced himself to move past what he’d heard all those kids say, and be the happy pappy Patton everyone expected him to be. He might be dying on the inside, but no one else needed to know that.

Except there was something strained about it, and the closer they got to the end of high school, the worse it was. There was something so obviously fake about the way he presented himself to the world. But at this point, it had been so long that no one questioned it anymore.

their high school graduation was great. Patton shed more than just a few tears, sitting with his hand clasped in Virgil’s the whole time. It ended and they all stood up for the final blessing of the graduates and to leave the sanctuary just as they had rehearsed earlier that morning.

Something had possessed Patton to put a sharpie in the pocket of his slacks earlier when he was getting dressed for the ceremony. Something about the last six and a half years and the way his mother was looking at him, and the way Virgil’s eyes lit up when Patton smiled, urged him to keep the marker on hand today.

As if he would need a sharpie at his graduation ceremony.

But just as the band began to play the closing song that they would recess out to, Patton felt his hand brush against the hard line of marker in his pocket. And suddenly he was desperately pulling the end of his gown up just far enough to reach into his pocket, grasp the sharpie, and pull it out.

Virgil wasn’t paying attention to him for the moment, anxiously watching as the other rows left until it was their turn, so Patton had just a second.

He let his gown sleeve fall to his elbow before unbuttoning the cuff on his dress shirt and yanking it up to expose his skin. At his wrist, there were three hearts, purple, red, and blue. They had been put there this morning with the knowledge that Virgil had his graduation ceremony this evening.

Patton grasped the sharpie lid between his teeth, uncapping it quickly, before writing in big, bold lettering across the inside of his forearm: I’M HERE.

As quickly as he could, he replaced the marker in his pocket, let his gown fall back into place, and followed Virgil in the line, leaving the building.

They got separated as the former seniors all gathered outside, hearing a “3… 2… 1…” before they all threw their caps into the air.

And Patton felt lighter than ever. He laughed with tears streaming down his face, watching as caps fell all around them, everyone cheering and congratulating each other, meeting up with family and friends, hugging and screaming.

Patton watched it happen for a second, smiling like the fool he played he was, until someone’s hands were on his shoulders, spinning him around. And there was Virgil, with tears in his eyes and a smile on his lips, pulling his friend into a hug.

But he pulled away too fast, reaching for his sleeve and tugging it back, working the button on his sleeve so harshly that it nearly popped off. And there it was. I’M HERE in big, black letters.

And Virgil stared at it for a second before lifting his face again and glancing around in a confused daze.

“They aren’t… neither of them wrote this…” He seemed to say to himself. The chaos around them was only a bit too loud for Patton to hear him correctly.

But Patton smiled a little more broadly, if only for Virgil’s sake, pulling up his sleeve that he hadn’t bothered to fix correctly, showing Virgil the same words in slightly smeared black sharpie.

“I’m here…”

Thanks for reading and please let me know what you thought! I will be working on Part Two :) Let me know if you have an interest in being tagged in future parts