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greenninjagal-blog · 4 years ago

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Trouble

Hi yeah its me, and look I’m already back with a new fic for the new year :D cherish this moment I don’t think i will have have this turn around so quick again. For the TSS Fanworks Secret Santa Exchange because I was a pinch hitter :DD @nerdywriterhaven I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Patton has a thing about boardgames and Virgil has a thing about Logan. Together they figure it out.

Word Count: 7900

Quick Taglist: @alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders

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Patton shows up at Virgil’s dorm room just slightly after six pm on a Tuesday with two thermoses of soup that are still warm to the touch, a halloween tupperware of chocolate chip cookies that had been passed between him and Virgil so many times that Patton really doesn’t remember whose it was originally, his laptop, phone, the chargers for both, and the board game Trouble.

Virgil, predictably, shuts the door in his face the second he sees the game box hidden under all the other things in his arms. Patton also thinks that Virgil tells him to go away, but it’s muddled by the door.

Instead he shuffles all the supplies to his left arm and knee, and knocks again on his door just below the leftover tape from the nametag that his RA keeps putting up and Virgil keeps ripping down because he doesn’t want anyone knowing where he sleeps. His knuckles hum with the rap, datatata dat dat! And he smiles even when there’s the sound of something being thrown at the door from that side.

Patton chooses not to hear it because he’s a good friend and an even more stubborn houseguest.

The door a little bit down the hall opens up with the usual fanfare of someone who is running late to a night class-- which of course is the charm of Roman Prince. He looks nice, as usual, and Patton even thinks that if he hadn’t been wearing two different colored shoes, no one would even know that he had probably just woken up from a nap. The music of his room blares out into the hall with a rap song Patton thinks is Hip With the Kids these days, but Patton himself can’t make out any of the actual words.

All the much better because he’s pretty sure it’s Remus’s music and Remus likes his songs like he likes just about everything else: dirty, scandalous, and offensive. Not that Patton is good friends with either of the Prince siblings, but he’s heard the rumors floating around about both. Roman smiles at him, with glittering white teeth and dimples and soft warm brown eyes that could have been made of melted chocolate.

“Oh! What a spectre!” Roman says, seeming to forget that he’s on the way to a class at the sight of Patton standing at Virgil’s door. “Tell me, angel, what brings a glorious sight such as you to our dorm buildings on this amazing day?”

Virgil’s door swings back open before Patton can answer and Virgil hisses from the darkness, the way he’s usually prone to do whenever Roman or Remus or their blatant disregard for the rules about music volume at two AM is brought up.

He looks not much better from the glimpse Patton got before the door was closed in his face earlier: he’s still pale to the point of looking sickly and dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, with his eye shadow smeared and his hair not brushed at all. There’s a red imprint on the side of his face that Patton thinks matches a crease in his blankets or pillows from where he probably tried to suffocate himself on and off all day between anxiously texting Patton all about “the absolute worst day of my entire life and no I’m not even exaggerating this time Pat”.

“Hi Virgil!” Patton says, as Virgil reaches forward and to take a thermos and the tupperware from his arms and glare unbidenedly at Roman. “I brought dinner!”

“I hate you,” Virgil says, and does not mean because he loves Patton’s Broccoli Cheddar Cheer Up Soup and he’s been in need of cheering up since Patton had seen his messages at noon on his way to his second class of the day.

Roman gasps like he’s offended on behalf of Patton who is not offended as much as endeared to his best friend of several years. “Virgil! How could you act so callus towards a beautiful muse such as this?”

“Get lost, Princey,” Virgil tells him firmly, grumpily, Virgil-ly. “He came here specifically to make a pun about my pain.”

“I do it with love,” Patton adds. “And I brought cookies to make up for it.”

Roman looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that information and Virgil doesn’t give him time to find out because he kinda hates Roman-- although Patton always tells him that “hate” is a strong word and Virgil always says he means it anyway. Patton supposes that if he, too, had hallmates that played music louder than life up to the early hours of the mornings during Finals Week, and then cranked it higher when he knocked on the door to ask them to stop, he might also strongly dislike them.

Virgil ushers Patton into the dark room and then kicks the door closed while Patton is waving goodbye at Roman.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light level: Virgil was certainly making use of those thick blackout curtains! It made the whole room look like it was three AM, rather than six PM! There are blobs of stuff all around the room, piles of clothes and blankets that Virgil prefers to have on the floor rather than put somewhere where he’s not going to trip over it in the middle of the night, but Patton supposes that’s just how Virgil’s always been.

“If someone breaks in, they’re gonna trip over this shit and I will be out of here long before they can get back up,” Virgil had said the first time Patton had suggested maybe, possibly cleaning something until they found the floor.

The desk where Virgil did his school work is empty and the textbooks and computer that normally covered it are all on the ground like a massacre from what Patton can make out. Virgil shuffles through the room and ends up turning on the purple lava lamp that Patton got him three years ago so that they could at least see each other and the faux-floor, and even then he doesn’t look happy at needing that much. The elevated bed had the blankets ripped up from it and turned into a nest with Virgil’s phone light peeking out from the depths like some underwater cave with a sea monster in it waiting for an unsuspecting diver.

“Remind me, how you got into this building?” Virgil says, tiredly as he pries open the cookie container. “It requires a key and last time I checked, you don’t have one of those, Pat.”

“As if a key would stop me from checking on you!” Patton replies. He plops himself on a pile of clothes and clears away another spot for Virgil to collapse next to him, so that Virgil can’t exactly escape. “Now, what is this about Logan again? You were being kinda vague and world-ending-y again. ”

Virgil lets out a moan around the cookie he shoved in his mouth and drops to the floor next to Patton, to munch angrily or just upsetly without actually offering an answer, because he’s Virgil and he’s allergic to talking about things that upset him. Patton sets down his other thermos, his laptop, and his own phone to make room for the game between them.

“Must we?” Virgil asks as Patton sets up the board with a practiced hand. Even in the near darkness of the room he knows exactly what he’s doing, and could probably figure it out with no light at all.

“Of course!” Patton says. “You sounded like you were in Trouble.”

“ Sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s rather Risk -y of you to be self deprecating while within hugging distance.”

Virgil doesn’t say anything for a moment, just swallows the bite of his cookie and stares at the colored pieces in front of him. The board game is well worn and well loved-- one of the first ones Patton had ever gotten and one of the first ones he ever convinced Virgil to play with him. Although “convinced” is a strong word for how Patton had just been staring at the board numbly with red rimmed eyes when his father had asked Virgil to come over and try to coax him into eating something, anything, please .

They’d lost three pieces of the red team and one of the yellow and two of the green, but that’s okay because Patton generally played blue and Virgil had custom ordered four purple pieces for just the two of them a few years ago.

Carefully, placatingly, Virgil reaches a hand forward and pops the dice bubble for his number. He gets a four.

Patton gets a five.

“How many times have we played this one, Pat?” Virgil asks, in a voice much softer than before. In the faded purple light and the shadows, it’s hard to see the number on the die, and harder to see exactly what Virgil is thinking about with his eyes hidden like that. His nails are bitten down to the quick, ruining the black nail polish he spent an hour applying last weekend over their shared Biology notes.

Patton shrugs as he reaches forward to take his turn and pops the bubble. Honestly he didn’t think he could calculate the answer if Virgil pressed: this was their go-to game, this was his go-to pun, this is what they did even when the world was falling apart at the seams. It was easier to focus on moving playing pieces a couple pegs than it was to focus on the sound of a heart monitor or raspy breathing or bony pale fingers that shook when they tried to hold anything.

It was easier to find a way to win when the instructions were so clear, and the rules were so fair, and the consequences of losing were just having to put the game back in the box.

Virgil doesn’t say anything more and Patton doesn’t force him to, although he desperately wants to. He wants to reach out and catch Virgil’s hands in his own, he wants to give him a squeeze, he wants to wipe away the tear tracks in his makeup and he wants to tell Virgil that whatever it is, Patton will be there for him.

He wants Virgil to look at a game for once and have fun.

But the only sound in the room is the popper when they roll the die back and forth.

Patton gets the six first. He moves his second leftmost piece to the start and hits it again for a three.

Virgil stares his blue piece on the board for a long moment, without blinking. His hands lie limply in his lap and the tub of cookies sits at his knee. The purple light makes his eyes glisten sweetly, wetly, sadly, with a resignation that Patton knows and wishes he doesn’t. The lump in his throat swells up.

“Virgil?”

Virgil blinks. And then blinks again.

“Why should I even bother at this point?” he asks. He runs a hand up to his hair and tugs at the locks.

“Virgil, this is the opening of the game,” Patton says. “You can’t give up alrea--”

“But it’s not like I’m going to win,” Virgil says and Patton sucks in a breath sharply.

Oh. It was one of those days.

Patton thinks that he should have been expecting this; it had been a decent amount of time since Virgil last had refused to finish a game, and Patton had almost thought that maybe they had kicked those thoughts for good! That through sheer willpower and perseverance and proof to the contrary, they might have managed to rework how Virgil approached a challenge. That at one point Virgil might laugh and smile even when he wasn’t in the lead--

And yet, Patton’s sitting with one piece three spaces ahead of Virgil and Virgil is ready to call it quits. The game had just started. Patton had only been sitting in the room for a total of five minutes. Virgil hadn’t talked for more than a couple sentences.

It’s one of those days, except that Patton doesn’t think that it’s ever been this bad before, because usually they at least made it to the one piece around the board in Trouble , through to one check in Chess , through to one hotel being built in Monopoly , or one train ticket completed in Ticket to Ride .

“This is a sign, isn’t it?” Virgil continues. “I’m just being stupid even considering it. Of course I am. I always am. Nevermind, I don’t want to do this today Pat. Thanks for the soup and the cookies and I’m sorry that I made you walk all the way--”

Patton reaches out and snags Virgil’s arm before he can get all the way off the ground. The board nudges to the side dislodging several pieces into the surrounding void, but Patton thinks that he can replace a hundred playing pieces.

He cannot replace his best friend.

Virgil’s skin is cold, even though the room was comfortably warm, and he’s soft to the touch-- which is never what Patton expects when he gets those lightning quick hugs, when Virgil rests his head on his shoulder during movie nights, when they go shopping and there are crowds that make Virgil want to run for the hills and only Patton’s hand in his keeps him grounded there. Virgil is soft despite the jagged persona he puts on to drive away other people, and he hasn’t gotten any sort of touch in a while because he shuts up the moment that Patton’s own warmth floods over him.

The room holds the silence for an eternity: Virgil frozen halfway up from the ground, and Patton latching on to him like he can pluck all the reasons Virgil is upset out of his mind through osmosis. The lava lamp makes him look unreal, makes the silence ring louder, makes the lump in Patton’s throat grow larger.

“Virgil,” Patton says, “please.”

Please tell me what I can do. Please allow me to help. Please let me in.

“It’s stupid,” Virgil says.

Patton wants to laugh, because nothing that ever hurts Virgil has ever been stupid. “I don’t think so, kiddo.”

Virgil bites his lip and inhales with all of his chest.

“You didn’t go to any classes today. You’ve been crying. You’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes.” Patton says. “Something happened. And it can’t possibly be stupid because nothing that affects you like this is can be anything less than something huge.”

Patton feels Virgil’s hand curl into a fist like he can hide his shaking when Patton is right there .

“Do you remember Logan Ackroyd,” Virgil says. “The senior a year older than us who I had Sociology with last year?”

The same Logan who took extra notes for when Virgil missed class and emailed them to him. The same Logan who offered Virgil a granola bar when he overheard that Virgil had missed lunch. The same Logan who helped Virgil break into the auditorium after school hours to search for his missing earbuds.

The same Logan who has eyes more knowledgeable than the entire galaxy, who wears a tie to class, who smells like coffee beans and pen ink and looks like he’d give really good, safe hugs.

The same Logan who Patton has never once met, but feels like he knows intimately thanks to Virgil’s starstruck rambles.

Logan must be something great and amazing. Patton has known that for a year now, from watching the months slip away and suddenly the ghost of Logan joins them on every outing, summoned by the blush over Virgil’s ears and the soft smile on his lips and the way that Virgil steadfastly won’t meet Patton’s eyes like it will prevent Patton from noticing the way that the senior is always on Virgil’s mind. Logan is kind. Logan is smart. Logan has a new book every day. Logan has a voice like the ocean waves.

Logan, Patton thinks, should have been more careful if he caused Virgil this much distress. Because there are things that Patton would do for Virgil that not even a cold blooded killer would consider doing.

“Yeah,” Patton says, with a smile soft and dumb and innocent. “You guys have Analytical Science together this year, right?”

Virgil lets go of his lip, and breathes out a breath that sounds like more relief than Patton is supposed to hear. “Yeah. Yeah. He, uh… yeah.” Virgil shifts back down, shifts so that he’s on his knees and Patton is right next to him, and they’re still touching and that warmth is stronger than the shadows made by the blobs in the lava lamp.

“Janus… Janus asked him out yesterday,” Virgil says, using his other hand to pluck at a thread in his jeans.

Oh. Patton doesn’t think cookies and soup were enough.

And golly, Patton doesn’t think Logan is as smart as Virgil is always saying he is either, because if he said yes in front of Virgil, he must have been the stupidest person on the planet.

Virgil is quiet, dismissible, a shadow in his own skin even on his best days. But he is not un-noticeable.

He carries an aura around himself that storms and thunders and promises danger to those that get too close. His laughter is a threat first and a comfort second. His smile is a knife blade that even Patton sometimes wonders if he might find in his back one day. Virgil was someone that you noticed and you stayed the fudge away from.

Unless you were Patton, who hadn’t been afraid of Death from the moment he watched his mother cough up blood over the cards to CandyLand, watched his mother turn into a real-life game of Operation, watched her breathing get ragged and her fingers struggle to hold playing cards between them.

Logan hadn’t been scared away by Virgil’s thunder, and somehow he had weathered the storm that Virgil put up to protect himself and lived securely in the eye of the hurricane. And somehow he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t cared, had taken advantage of Virgil’s softening heart just to shatter it.

“He didn’t…” Virgil says. “Janus… he didn’t really mean it. I don’t think. It might have been a joke because they’re friends but Logan told everyone that he would only consider dating someone who could… could…”

“Could what?”

Virgil’s eyes flick down to the Trouble game board, to the pieces lost in chaos of the floor, to the box they hadn’t needed except for transport. Patton feels his heart thud in his chest before he crawls up his throat and he tastes it in his mouth along with the remains of the raw cookie dough he licked off the spoon while cleaning up.

Virgil’s words come back to him in whispers. But it’s not like I’m going to win. This is a sign, isn’t it? I’m just being stupid even considering it.

“Someone who could….” Patton says, “beat him in a boardgame?”

Virgil yanks the thread on his jeans sharply and nods without meeting Patton’s eyes. “I told you it was stupid.”

“Virgil,” Patton says. “This is great! We’ve been playing games together for years! You can beat--”

“That’s the thing!” Virgil says with his shoulders curling up to his ears and burying him in layers of excess fabric. “Pat, I can’t even beat you in a board game and I know all your strategies!”

“I don’t think that Trouble actually has any strategies. It’s really luck of the roll--”

Virgil peeks out of his hood enough to give Patton a miserable glare. “When was the last time I won against you, Pat? Be honest.”

Patton purses his lips. “I don’t think that’s fair, kiddo. I’ve been playing games since I was able to understand the rules--”

“You don’t even remember, do you.”

“It was Dominos and you won by twenty points.”

“Nice try, but you purposely miscounted and you actually won by two.” Virgil reaches out for another cookie and offers it to Patton without making any move to pull his other hand from Patton’s hold.

“You would have a lot more wins if you didn’t insist on not finishing games sometimes!” Patton says. “You never know the ending of a game until you play it out!”

“I could tell you that Logan was going to beat Janus in Chess the moment the opening moves were made,” Virgil counters. “He won in twelve moves and then the next game in six.”

Patton opens his mouth, but Virgil shoves the cookie in before he can actually say anything.

“And God Rest Remy’s soul because Logan obliterated him in Trivia Pursuit.” Virgil continues, “He turned Roman to mincemeat over Scrabble, and not only beat Remus in Poker, but won one hundred dollars off him too. I also watched him win in Othello against some kid he tutored in Calc, a game of Mancala with an art kid who was doing it for clout, and Stratego which he won before I finished reading the fuuuuuudging rules and made his opponent cry over it.”

Patton swallows down a bite of cookie that he didn’t not chew well enough because he feels it tear up his esophagus as it goes. Virgil politely ignores him dying for a second and offers him his own thermos of soup to help it down, before remembering that he’s supposed to be brooding and staring at Patton for too long makes him soft.

“Not to make a pun here, but no dice; I legitimately cannot beat Logan,” Virgil says. “He’s just… so good. At everything. What is the point in humiliating myself with this? Even if I find a game so obscure that he’s never heard of it and doesn’t have a strategy built for it, just going up to him and putting the board between us is like-- that’s telling him that I’ve had this massive stupid crush on him for ages and what if he doesn’t even like me? What if I win and then he has to date me because he said so but he actually hates me? What if--”

Patton coughs so hard he thinks he might have dislodged his own lung, which is fine!! Because at least it got Virgil to snap back to him and table his panicky spiral for later.

“Weren’t you,” Patton croaks, “Weren’t you already going to confess to him? You bought the chocolate kisses and you sent me pictures of them in your bag right before class last week.”

Patton can’t see Virgil’s ears because of his hood but he knows that they’re glowing red from the way that Virgil can’t meet his eyes again.

“I just….I did but then he….” Virgil nudges a pile of questionably clean band t-shirts with his socked foot. “He said he wasn’t interested because class was starting and I still don’t know if he meant an actual kiss or a Hershey kiss because he had to leave class early to pick up his kid brother from his middle school because he was sick with a fever and then I was too mortified to bring it back up-- See Pat, I can’t even come up with a creative way to tell Logan that I wanna listen to him ramble about jellyfish immortality and play with his hair or tell him that I wanna know what the flavor of his chapstick is-- which, by the way, I did say to him and he told me was cake batter and that I could find it at the corner drugstore because he thought I was looking for recommendations-- There is no way to subtly tell him that I want to date him.”

“Then maybe… don’t be subtle?” Patton suggests, and then points at the game between them. “Boardgame?”

Virgil scowls at the game like it had personally offended him. “But I can’t beat him. And if I lose and by some miracle he still wants to be seen with me, then he’d be breaking the very rules he set up and everyone else who lost is going to be pissed at both of us and I can’t do that to Logan.”

Patton bites back the then don’t lose that he wants to say. It seems so obvious to him. He doesn’t really see why Virgil doesn’t think he can win one single game. There isn’t even a rule that says Virgil can’t come back and play again-- which isn’t that the point of games? That you can play them for a little while, pack them up, and then come back to them later? That you sit down with friends-maybe-more and you play and have fun ?

Not for the first time, and not for the last time, Patton wonders why Virgil ever played games with him at all. He knows the first time was pity because he found Patton sitting on the floor of his bedroom with Trouble on the ground in front of him and staring at it numbly because he had cried all the tears out of himself already at the hospital, at the funeral, at the everything that had come after that he couldn’t remember. The first time it had been to get Patton to react because he had been so lost, but every time after that Virgil had made the conscious decision to pick up the pieces.

Even if sometimes he had put them back down halfway through and Patton hadn’t figured out how to convince him that the point isn’t to win as much as it is to have fun.

Virgil twists his wrist loosely in Patton’s grip so that he’s holding Patton back, his cold fingers somehow feeling comforting rather than startling. Patton has always loved that about him, although he’s never sure how that works. The coolness of his touch is familiar, but the vulnerability of Virgil reaching out is something newer, something special, something fragile and Virgil holds onto him like he’s expecting Patton to let go at any moment and Patton steadfastly refuses to let him drift off. Patton squeezes his wrist gently, lightly, softly.

I’m here. I’m not leaving. We’re in this together.

“I think that Logan can make decisions for himself,” Patton says with words so featherlight they barely move the air. “Remember the dominos? Any player can choose to lose, whether it be miscounting or it be refusing to finish the game in the end. But if you never even offer to play with him… Logan can’t make that choice, Virgil.”

Virgil holds his gaze for a moment, two, three, and there’s something in his eyes that shies away from the glow of the light, something slippery and weak and scared. Something that Patton is afraid to put a name to, lest it disappear from him forever.

Something that causes Virgil to squeeze his wrist back.

Together. Us. We’ve got this.

“So what game do you want to play with Logan?” Patton asks. “We can go look at my collection if you want? I loaned out Backgammon to a girl in my Shakespearean class, but other than that I have the usuals with me.”

Virgil takes a deep breath. “Can we…” He says. “Do it tomorrow? I don’t want…” He squeezes Patton’s wrist again and Patton can fill in the rest of the blanks with his own interpretations. He is, after all, fluent in Virgilese, as much as Virgil is fluent in Pattonish.

“Yeah, yeah,” Patton says and shifts through the piles of clothes that act as cushions so he’s right next to Virgil, pressing their shoulders together, leaning his head on Virgil’s collarbone, and reaching around him for another cookie. Virgil moves the tub between them and then pulls the Trouble game board in front of that.

He hesitates for another moment-- they’re missing two of Patton’s blue pieces to the floor, and one of Virgil’s purples to a pile of sweatshirts-- but the fact that Virgil drops forward and presses the bubble to roll the die makes Patton’s chest warm.

He gets a six, and then a four and that thing in his eyes seems to grow just a bit stronger.

That is, of course, when the rap music from next door starts up loud enough to shake the entire room and Patton wonders if Logan would still be up for playing a game with Virgil when he’s incarcerated for second degree murder.

Patton, at least, gets a hug out of it, when he tackles Virgil to the ground before he can get to the door, and he manages to coax Virgil back to their area, back to the floor, back to the game, and then later into the blanket-fort-and-movie-night that they watch with one earbud each and their foreheads pressed together late into the night.

***

Patton’s mother developed lung cancer when he was seven. He remembers it in vague flashes: the blood, the shakiness, her fall to the floor because they had never had any sign of it happening until it was too late to do much about it. He was told it was because his maternal grandparents both smoked a lot when she was growing up and she spent the weekends helping them around the house still.

The doctors said she had a year. She got eighteen months.

He barely remembers her face from his own memories anymore, all of them blurred and twisted by the passage of time that he almost got swept away in entirely. Her picture still hangs around the house, though, and he guesses he’s lucky in that regard. He liked how he could see her every time he passed by the stairs, even after his dad remarried and he had grown up and the telemarketers stopped calling the house to tell her that there was an interesting charge on the credit card she didn’t have anymore.

He still wakes up sometimes with his heart beating in his ears and his eyes blinded with tears and his lungs refusing to cooperate because of nightmares about forgetting her entirely, of seeing her stand up to call out to his dad, of seeing her cough out blood and then fall to the floor right in front of him as his dad is running down the stairs. He still wakes up and feels his heart aching where she might have once been if everything had gone just a little bit different. He still wakes up and wishes that he could go back to sleep because at least in his dreams she’s still there waiting with a deck of cards and a smile that says, “Alright, Buster, don’t think I’m going to go easy on you this time!”

Usually those types of days he labels as “Bad Ones”, and he finds it harder to crawl from under his blankets to do pretty much anything.

Virgil knows immediately when he sees Patton staring at his black laptop screen that it’s a Bad One.

Patton loves that he knows not to ask, hates that Virgil can read him so easily, wants to cry because it’s been so long and shouldn’t the edges of that pain have gone away by now? He wants to pull Virgil’s purple comforter back over them and drift back off into the blissful warmth while pretending that the idea of a game right now didn’t make his hands shake.

She hadn’t left Patton specifically a lot of things, but the things that she had left him had been boardgames. Things that she had collected over the years and kept on a shelf in the study for them to play after work and school: Candyland, Trouble, Snakes and Ladders. She had a whole shelf for him when he got to an age where he could understand more complex concepts: Ticket to Ride, Pandemic, Mysterium, Star Realms, Settlers of Catan.

After she was gone… Patton had stared at that shelf and wondered if she had ever thought that maybe she wouldn’t get a chance to play some of them with him.

He wonders how many of them he could have beat her at, how many of them she might let him win in, how many of them they would love to play together and how many of them they would both play through once and then wrinkle their noses at because it wasn’t what they thought it was going to be.

He wonders and maybe it’s a bit too much because he’s stomach is rolling nauseously and he thinks that if he has to look at a game he’ll actually throw up this time.

Virgil doesn’t say anything, even as he gets up and Patton remains buried under too many blankets and the alarm on his phone goes off again for his morning class. The darkness is safe and warm and Patton thinks he understands why Virgil likes it so much as he closes his eyes and tries not to think of a woman who is long gone and in the ground.

“Breakfast?” Virgil whispers at some point.

“Cookies,” Patton mumbles back.

Virgil had carted a hand through his curls and then the door to the room had opened closed and locked behind him. Patton thinks that was nice of him-- to lock the door like he was protecting anyone from coming in and stealing his valuables even though Patton was there. Or maybe since Patton was there? Patton presses his head into a pillow that smells vaguely like chocolate cherries and black licorice and other things that screamed Virgil, and thinks that Virgil might consider Patton a valuable that needs to be protected and kept safe.

Sometime later Patton wakes up with Virgil lying beside him, headphones on and typing on his computer with one hand while dragging fingers through Patton’s curls with the other. It’s impressive of him by itself, but not nearly as impressive as the fact that Virgil’s hood is down and the blackout curtains are parted enough to bring in a decent amount of light.

Virgil blinks at him and removes one earmuff. “I read that flowers need sunlight to grow,” he says in lieu of explaining the rays of light cascading into the room over the two of them.

Patton wants to laugh, and thinks he might if it were any other day and not this one. He settles for a somewhat bent smile and Virgil reaches to somewhere he can’t see and brings back a muffin from the Campus Cafe.

“Chocolate Chip,” he says. “Which is like a cookie, but better because it’s a muffin and I said so.”

Patton can’t really tell if the tears that prick in his eyes are from the lingering sadness or the softness of just a simple gesture from his best friend. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s neither.

It’s a muffin, not something he should be crying over, and he repeats it even as he takes a bite from the top and Virgil pretends like he doesn’t see Patton scrubbing his cheeks as he chews. It’s a muffin, but Virgil got it just for him and Virgil came right back here and sat with him so he wouldn’t wake up alone and sad and and and--

And if Patton liked anyone romantically like that(™) he thinks he would have fallen straight into love with Virgil.

“Did you miss class?” Patton whispers.

Virgil shrugs. “Nothing important. I sent an email to my teachers saying that I wasn’t feeling too good and didn’t want to risk accidentally spreading anything to anyone, which already helps because I didn’t go to class yesterday and I’ve already turned in all my work for the week for most of my classes. Besides, you were here and I didn’t want to just leave you all alone-- what if Roman started playing his Disney compilations at 160 decibels again?”

“You like Disney, though.”

“I also like my hearing and my best friend,” Virgil says like it’s nothing, like it’s obvious, like it shouldn’t be making Patton tear up again because Virgil is just so nice.

“I’m sorry,” Patton whispers.

Virgil moves his computer and jostles around on the bed until they’re lying side-by-side even though the bed was definitely not made for two persons. He presses his head to Patton’s, and he’s cool and soft and safe.

Together. We got this.

“Your mom?” He asks.

Patton nods, with a lump in his throat that makes all the words he wants to say crumble to ashes on his tongue. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Pat,” Virgil says.

“But… Logan…”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Virgil says. “And, full offense, but no boy is going to be more important to me than you regardless of how fuuuuuuunkily hot he is. Funkily, yeah, sure, that’s a word that I definitely was going to say right there.”

Patton feels the laugh build up in his chest, against all the odds in the world, and it tastes like chocolate when it rolls out of his mouth.

Virgil bumps his shoulder, and grins. “Look, I’m trying here. Cursing is in my nature!”

“Thank you,” Patton says. For everything.

“No prob, Bob,” Virgil says. I would do it all all over again and never change a thing.

“I’m not Bob! I’m Pat!”

Virgil’s laugh is like the sun breaking through the clouds after a rainstorm, like a rainbow cascading through the sky, like being caught after a fall. Patton gets the energy to smile back when he hears it and that alone nearly makes him want to cry again.

Patton twists the blanket under him between his fingers and takes a deep breath. “Did you…” He says before pausing to swallow back the taste of his own stomach acids he’s not sure is entirely imaginary. “Did you pick a game? For Logan?”

Virgil’s nose twitches, which means the answer is a sound no. “It’s not that important right now. You’re not feeling up to--”

“ Vir -gil,” Patton says and Virgil’s nose twitches again.

They share a look for another minute, two, three, before Virgil exhales and looks away.

“Fine, fine,” he says. “I didn’t pick out a game yet. I actually saw him in the Cafe earlier with Janus and he waved, though, which was awesome until I waved back and forgot to look where I was going and walked straight into a glass door. At this point it’s going to be a miracle if Logan doesn’t laugh in my face when I ask him to play anything with me.”

“He won’t laugh at you,” Patton says and Virgil slides his arms up and crosses them so he can bury his chin in them like he doesn’t believe Patton at all. “From what you’ve told me, Logan is really nice isn’t he? And the other day didn’t you say that he went on a rant about Pluto being a planet? I think that’s just as silly as you walking into a door.”

Virgil hums to show he’s listening, even if he isn’t taking the words to heart as much as letting them filter through his ears. Patton licks the last of the chocolate muffin from his fingertips and blinks away the urge to hide away from the rest of the world when he spies the box for Trouble on the ground next to Virgil’s desk trash can.

Virgil follows his gaze to the box and he purses his lips, although Patton isn’t sure if its from the fact that he’s remembering that neither of them won last night, or if he’s thinking about odds of beating Logan again or if he, too, is thinking about ghostly fingers trying so hard to move playing pieces that they can no longer touch.

Patton rolls over and stares at Virgil’s ceiling instead, counting his breaths until he feels like the static between his ears isn’t going to overwhelm him.

“What game do you want to play?” Patton asks.

“I won’t win.”

“I didn’t ask what game you wanted to win,” Patton points out. “What game do you want to play against Logan?”

Virgil is quiet, but he sighs so heavily that Patton can see his bangs flutter out of the corner of his eyes.

“This is going to sound stupid,” Virgil says, and again Patton remembers that nothing Virgil ever says has ever once been stupid. “But I don’t want to play against him at all.”

Patton frowns, rolling his head to the side to take in Virgil’s gaze that is already looking at him. His dark eyes are there and the something in them that Patton doesn’t want to put a name to is there again, shining just like the rays of light between Virgil’s blinds.

“I mean I want to play a game with Logan, just not against Logan. It’s stupid, okay? I was just thinking about the cooperative games back at your house that we used to play with your dad and step mom-- you know like the Unlock , Escape-room-in-a-box games? Or maybe Flashpoint? Or Forbidden Island? I was just thinking how shit I am at making my own decisions in Pandemic and Logan is really good at strategy so I bet that working together we’d be able to beat any game.”

Patton breathes deeply, sharply, and tries to ignore the piercing pain in his chest at the mention of the games. Virgil winces like he wants to take the words right back out of the air and hide them somewhere where neither of them have to face them at all.

“I don’t…” Virgil says, “I don’t want to play against him and lose. I’d rather play with him and win. Again: it’s stupid.”

Patton closes his eyes, and sees the shelf his mom left him full of boardgames she picked out long before he was past chewing on building blocks, of him at eleven years old finally getting the courage to drag a kitchen chair to the case and pick out a game while Virgil stood by to make sure he didn’t fall and to remind him that it was okay if he didn’t didn’t feel strong enough to try, of the two of them sitting at the kitchen table with the game directions between them that don’t really make any sense because it there’s no directions on how to attack each other when his dad comes home early and freezes at the sight

He might not remember his mother’s face outside of photographs he doesn’t remember being taken, but he remembers clearly the softness of his father’s expression when he dropped into the seat next to them and asked if they knew how to play this one yet.

“It’s a cooperative game,” his dad said, with a voice shaking and eyes wet. “That means we all work together to get to the goal at the end. Each player is going to have a different superpower-ability-thing that they can do that will make it easier for us to win as a team.”

So no, Patton doesn’t think that it’s stupid at all. It’s hard to do things by themselves, it’s scary, it’s difficult, it’s frustrating. That’s why when Virgil is texting him that the world is ending because of a boy, Patton will always show up at his dorm with soup and cookies and a game for them to play together instead of telling him that he’s being dramatic and silly. That’s why when Patton is missing a woman who hasn’t been in his life for twelve years now, Virgil will always stay with him to remind him that he’s going to get through it, instead of telling him to suck it up.

It’s much easier to win when they’re on the same side.

And Virgil has only ever had fun when playing games that he wins, hasn’t he?

“Why don’t you?” Patton asks suddenly.

Virgil must have nodded off because he jerks suddenly when Patton speaks up, “huh?”

“Why don’t you play a cooperative game?” Patton asks. “What did Logan say specifically about the whole dating thing?”

Virgil rubs an eye and squints at him tiredly. “I told you, he said he would only date someone who beats him at a game. I don’t--”

“Did he say beats him, or beats the game with him?”

“Neither?” Virgil says. “He literally said to Janus very loudly, “I will only consider someone a viable romantic partner if they can win in a game with me.””

“In a game with me,” Patton repeats. “ In a game with me. Not in a game against me!”

It takes Virgil a long, breathless moment to comprehend it, but it’s clear the moment it hits him. Virgil jerks so hard that he tumbles off the bed entirely and to the ground in a fumbling of long limbs, blankets, dubiously cleaned clothes, and his computer-headphones combo. Patton yelps and leans over to check on him but Virgil doesn’t even look like he noticed.

“Holy Shit,” He says, “holy shit, Pat.”

“Language.”

“ HOLY SHIT!” Virgil yells, and then he laughs and covers his mouth like he’s trying to bottle up the sound. “Patton! Patton! He didn’t say against!”

Virgil’s eyes sparkle, the light through the window makes his dark hair shine and just looking at him Patton thinks he’s never once seen him so happy before, so delighted, so excited.

So full of hope.

The next thing he knows is that he’s sitting up and Virgil is wrapped around him in a hug so tight, so soft, so cool and wonderful that those pesky tears come right back to his eyes. Virgil hugs like he’s unafraid of anything for just this endless moment, like he’s never been unsure of physical touch before, like he’s done it a million times before and Patton shouldn’t feel his breath catch in his lungs lest he shatter this dream with an exhale.

He’s standing at the eye of the storm that is Virgil, and he’s never felt so safe before in his life.

“Thank you,” Virgil whispers, “I, uh, I’m sorry for the sudden hug--”

And then, of course, Remus’s music comes back with a vengeance that rattles the ceiling tiles overhead and makes Virgil hiss and break the hug. Patton thinks that he could forgive it, if it weren’t for the unmistakable sound Disney’s Mulan soundtrack also ringing in the air, like it was trying to be heard over the rap music. Dust sprinkles from the tiles overhead.

“I’m going to kill them both,” Virgil vows, but Patton is quicker. He lunges forward before he even knows what he’s doing and coils around Virgil as tightly as he can, and just hugs him, his best friend, the guy who’s always been there for him, and who deserved all the happiness that he could get.

“Pat?” Virgil says.

“If Logan doesn’t treat you right I’m going to make sure no one finds his body,” Patton says.

And Virgil’s laughter makes it sound like he doesn’t quite believe Patton, but that’s okay. Virgil is still looking for reasons to play a game if not to win, and Patton is still trying to find a game that makes him smile, and together they’re going to figure out how to get Virgil to win with Logan.

But for now the hug is good, and the company is nice, and they have the game Trouble packed away ready for the next time they want to play.

#sanders sides #board gaming #platonic moxiety #Analogical #Logan is the hottest side confirmed #Because everyone wants to date him #(Except Pat)#Me the author: what the fuck is hurt comfort #tw: cancer #I just like board games okay #maybe a little too much #I kNew YoU WeRe TrOuBlE WhEn YoU wAlKeD IN #virgil is a disaster gay #Patton really awesome #Hugs? Hugs.

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lilith-lovett · 4 years ago

Text

Found Families - Home is Where the Hart is - Chapter Twenty Four

I am finally back on a proper writing schedule and I am back with a new one. I have been looking forward to writing this scene since the very beginning and it is finally here. Thank you for you continued support. Safe safe x

Masterlist

Summary: A bad night to a happy day

Word Count: 5459

Warnings: Past child abuse, anxiety, self-deprecation, disordered eating, implied depression, panic attack, flashback, food mention, knife mention, nightmare, swearing, implied self harm, unintentional self harm, hospital mention (this one is dark) (if there is anything I have missed pleased let me know)

The day had finally arrived. Logan hardly slept at all, the nerves and excitement becoming overwhelming. Patton was taking him to the local school to speak with the principal - who was apparently Elliott’s father Thomas - about the possibility of Logan enrolling in the school in the following academic year. It had been six years since Logan attended any form of educational institution, since his parents removed him from elementary school in order to implement their own curriculum and to avoid any prying question in regards to Logan’s well-being. His first two orphanages had very limited access to resources, books and textbooks with no teachers. His third orphanage had a lot more resources and regularly scheduled lesson plans, with Maggie providing him with extra textbooks, books and projects to complete in his own time so he could have something resembling an ordinary education. In that environment he had quickly surpassed the level appropriate for his age category. Upon leaving the orphanage, Maggie had provided him with a collection of textbooks to carry on using to study while waiting for the new academic year to begin. The day had finally arrived.

Logan understood Patton’s apprehension but he needed to do something and attending school would provide the stimulation he required. He agreed to Patton’s idea of visiting the school and speaking with Mr Sanders in order to create a plan for his joining after the Summer. They had discussed it several times and Patton admitted it made him more comfortable having a detailed action plan and a line of contact with Mr Sanders about his situation, which Logan accepted as reasonable.

Logan had woken up early and immediately dressed himself before heading downstairs not expecting to see anyone else awake, considering the time, but surprisingly Patton was already up and preparing breakfast. Softly singing to himself, as the sweet smell of crofters and pancakes filled the room. This was an unusual occurrence for Patton for a number of reasons; he described himself as an ‘early bird’ but he was never up this early, breakfast on school days were normally simple due to Roman and Virgil’s bad habit of sleeping in. Pancakes and more elaborate breakfasts were reserved for weekends and special occasions. Perhaps, today was a special occasion Logan simply wasn’t aware of. It didn’t take long for Patton to notice Logan, the surprise present on his face.

“Oh, hello, kiddo, I am guessing you are up early because of school, I wish Roman and Virgil were this excited for school,” Patton chuckled as he continued on prepare breakfast but must have caught Logan’s perplexed expression. “Oh, you are probably wondering why I am up so early? I thought since today is special day for you, we would have a special breakfast,”.

Patton continued chatting to Logan as he prepared breakfast while Logan sat at the kitchen table listening, responding whenever necessary until Patton placed a stack of pancakes and a variety of toppings including Logan’s favourite crofters in the centre of the table.

“Tuck in, I am going to go wake up the rest of them,” Patton said to him before disappearing up the stairs.

Logan took a singular pancake and slathered it in a healthy helping of jam. He was eating significantly more than he had prior living at the orphanage but his appetite was still minimal at best. He pretended not to notice the concerned glances Patton gave him whenever he didn’t finish a meal. Logan was fine. He was eating. More than he ever had been in fact. There was nothing unusual about him not finishing a meal. It was just another one of his habits. Logan began eating as Roman, Virgil and Declan were herded downstairs, still dressed in their pyjamas, by Patton. Everyone settled at the table before digging into their own plates of food. Drowsy small talk was exchanged and once Logan had eaten exactly half of what was on his plate he excused himself to finish preparing for the day ahead. Once again Patton gave him a worried look before sighing and clearing his plate.

A short while later, it was time to leave. They were leaving earlier than usual to drop Declan off at Dot and Larry’s house so Patton could attend the meeting with Logan. They all got into the car, Roman once again called shotgun, bounding towards the front of the car while Patton buckled Declan into the car seat in the centre of the back seat while Virgil and Logan sat on either side. The car ride was certainly lively, with Patton and Roman singing along to the radio and Declan babbling some sort of nonsense to Virgil who responded as if he perfectly understood everything he said. The nervousness was still building within Logan’s chest so he decided to remain silent.

Fifteen minutes passed and they were pulling into the school’s car park, several other families surrounded the building awaiting the bell, indicating the beginning of the school day. It was a large building, two separate entrances. One for the middle school and one for the high school as they buildings were combined, a large playground area containing various pieces of play equipment with a number of screaming children climbing all over it. Logan flinched away from the noise, raising a hand to his ear to block out the sound, an action Patton seemed to notice.

“Hey, Logan, how about we head inside?” Patton asked placing a hand on Logan shoulders, giving it a comforting squeeze as he gestured towards the closest entrance. “Okay, kiddos, I am going now, I’ll see you two later. I love you,”.

“Love you too, padre,” Roman exclaimed quickly running off into the crowds, disappearing from sight.

“Bye, dad. Bye, L,” Virgil said walking to a quiet corner of the playground, separated from the rest of the crowds. Logan knew Virgil hated crowded places so this behaviour made sense.

“Come on Logan,” Patton said leading Logan into the school building.

The main office was located relatively close to the entrance, Patton needed to sign in and struck up a friendly conversation with the women working there. A lot of talk about their families and traditional small talk. She asked Logan a couple of questions which he answered cordially until Patton had completed filling out the form. They said their goodbyes and Patton led him through the long, winding corridors filled with empty classrooms, towards Mr Sanders office. Once they arrived, Patton knocked on the door and a voice rang out, inviting them inside.

They entered Mr Sanders office, it was highly decorated; photographs, knick-knacks and various figurines on his desk and sat behind it was Mr Sanders, a wide smile across his face when he saw them. He appeared to be off a similar age to Patton, straight dark brown hair which swooped across his forehead and dressed smartly in a navy blue casual suit and tie combination. The nervousness hadn’t stopped building and was about bursting out of him by the time Patton led him into the office. What if he failed the test? What if they didn’t want him to attend the school? What would he do then?

“Hello, Patton, Logan,” Mr Sanders said standing reaching a hand out to Patton and then out to Logan before he indicated for them to sit. “So Patton tells me that you are are wanting to enrol in the school in the new academic year? That is wonderful and we can definitely arrange that, now Patton has told me some of the situation involving your home life and lack of official schooling, I also got into contact with your former tutor Miss Blair and she tells me that you have kept up with education and surpassed the standard level for your age group?”.

“Um…yes…I have been keeping up with studying,” Logan answered things were going well so far. He hadn’t been rejected yet.

“That is very responsible of you. Well with all of this information, I would like you to take a couple of tests so we can determine what grade you would be most comfortable in, considering your age you would normally enter grade 7 but because of your prior teaching I want to give you the opportunity to potentially progress to the next grade,” Mr Sanders explained taking out a pile of papers from his desk drawer. Tests. Logan could do tests. Actually he excelled at them. Test questions had answers, answers which could be figured out with the right equations or methods. Yes, Logan could do tests. “What do you think about that?”.

“I can do that,” Logan responded instantly, excited to finally be stimulated by some challenging questions.

“I love the enthusiasm,” Mr Sander’s said with a chuckle. “I’ll allow you to do the tests in here and Patton and I will have a chat about all of the details, just come and get us once you are finished,”.

Logan nodded in response as Patton gave him a comforting squeeze and ruffled his hair before leaving with Mr Sander, leaving him alone in the office with only the small stacks of test papers. Opening the first page he began.

“I don’t think I have ever met a child who was actually excited about taking a test before,” Thomas said as he closed the door behind him, attempting to stifle his laughter.

“That’s Logan for you,” Patton said with a chuckle. “He was super excited to come here today, he has been talking about enrolling in school for ages now but I wanted him to settle in a little before he did,”.

“That was a smart decision, has he been settling well?” Thomas inquired as Patton recalled the past few weeks. It had certainly been interesting. The highs were high; Roman’s birthday, their family movie nights, seeing Logan slowly come out of his shell. However, the lows were extremely low; the breakdowns, the constant fear of abandonment and the insecurity which couldn’t be quelled with words alone. Last nights conversation was a singular step in the seemingly never-ending staircase in the process of trying to get Logan to see his own worth, to convince him Patton wasn’t going to leave and he could finally let go of all of the pain.

“It has been hard. Really hard. I know it will be a difficult process and I know I can’t make everything better but I hate that feeling of hopelessness,” Patton admitted with a sigh. He knew from the beginning it wouldn’t be all sunshine and roses, he had been through a similar situation with Virgil and Dee but Logan is older and so too intelligent for his own good, he hid so much of how he truly felt until it exploded out of him.

“I understand the feeling, I think we all want things to be easier but all you can do is too give it time. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. This is a new environment for Logan and for you too, it is normal for things to be a bit rocky at the beginning and it will never be all smooth-sailing but the important thing is that you are trying and constantly working to be there for Logan,” Thomas responded placing a comforting hand on Patton’s shoulder. “You are doing the best you can and I’m sure Logan sees that too,”.

“Thank you, Thomas,” Patton said he knew Thomas was correct, Emile had been repeating the same information to him for years. It was difficult to see the progress they had made when they were still going through the lows but he knew it would all be worth it. They are a family now and together they would be able to handle anything, no matter how low the lows got, the highs would always be worth it.

Patton and Thomas continued talking, primarily how Logan’s enrolment into the school would work, for Patton’s own peace of mind. He had had similar discussions with Roman and Virgil’s teachers surrounding accommodations for their mental health problems and everyone he spoke too was extremely kind and willing to adapt for their benefit. So, Patton wasn’t necessarily worried in that regards but Logan was entering school far later than he should have and hadn’t been in such an environment before. He would be entering at a pivotal part of his educational career and while Logan was incredibly intelligent he lacked the social skills of children his age. What if he couldn’t handle such a drastic change in environment? It had taken him a while to adjust to moving from the orphanage to Patton’s house, what if moving to school caused a similar issue? What if he was bullied? Patton had witnessed first hand the torment Logan had to endure at the hands of the other children at the orphanage, to the extent he had gotten used to it, would the same occur in the classroom? Would Logan assume it was normal as he had likely experienced worse? Patton froze in place at the thought, his heart hurt merely thinking about. Maybe he and Logan should talk through a couple more options before making their decision?

“Patton, are you alright?” Thomas asked, waving a hand in front of Patton’s face as he snapped out of his brain funk.

“Ah, sorry, I just zoned out for a minute there,” Patton answered quickly, plastering on a smile, sensing his face glowing red with embarrassment.

“You’re worried about Logan, aren’t you?” Thomas pressed as Patton smile fell. Thomas always was super perceptive, he could never hide anything from him. “He will be fine, he will have access to all of the support we have available here and I will personally keep an eye out for him and you’ll be the first to now if anything does happen,”.

“Thank you, Thomas, I feel a lot better now,” Patton said and he meant it. Patton trusted Thomas wholeheartedly, he was aware of both Roman and Virgil’s struggles and agreed to do the same for them which definitely settled some of Patton’s anxieties. Also perhaps he was just over-thinking and Logan would thrive in the new, highly academic environment, overall helping to develop his social and personable skills. Yes Patton, think positive thoughts.

Just as Thomas was about to lead Patton to a waiting area for them to sit and continue their discussion, there was a sharp knock on the door. Before it opened revealing Logan, test papers in hand and a small smile on his face.

“I believe I have finished,” Logan said holding his papers out towards Thomas who failed to disguise his shock as he took Logan’s test papers into his hands.

“You-you’re finished…but its…” Thomas quickly glanced at his watch. “Only been fifteen minutes. Are you sure you are finished, did you check everything over?”.

“Yes, I reviewed everything thoroughly to locate any mistakes so I could remedy them, I am finished,” Logan stated once again, rather bluntly.

“Wow…That's…wow. How did you find it?” Thomas asked as he swiftly flicked through the papers, presumably to ensure Logan had indeed completed every question. Which he had.

“It was relatively simple, however, a few question did provide an enjoyable challenge,” Logan responded. Thomas’s expression shifted to one of awe. He had explained to Patton that the test was used in rare occasions, such as if a student wanted to transfer into a class of a higher difficultly level to assess if they could handle the increased difficultly. Traditionally reserved for older students but Thomas suggested for Logan to take it considering his situation and background. Patton believed that Thomas had assumed Logan would struggle or at least take longer than fifteen minutes to complete it.

“Wow…well that is really good…it’ll be about a week until I’ll be able to give you your results and then we can talk about what comes next after that. Is that alright with you Logan?” Thomas asked.

“Yes, thank you, Mr Sanders,” Logan responded with a small, careful smile.

“No problem Logan, I’m looking forward to seeing you in the new school year,” Thomas said, leading them both to the exit as they all said their goodbyes, waving to Patton and Logan as they left, entering into the now empty playground.

“Ah Logan, I am so proud of you!” Patton exclaimed throwing his arms around Logan, squeezing him close to his chest. Logan groaned but didn’t protest or attempt to move away and as Patton glanced down he noticed the tiny, precious smile on his face. Patton didn’t restrain his squeal. “Aw, you are so cute”.

“I am not” Logan grumbled shrugging out of the hug but the smile remained, making Patton smiled even larger.

“When we get home let’s have a super, super special day. We already had a special breakfast, lets have a special lunch and dinner too. Oohh and a movie night afterwards,” Patton rambled, his brain going a mile a minute with so many ideas of how to make tonight extra super special, of all of the different meals he could make, desserts to bake, fun snack ideas and a list of potential movies to watch.

“What is the special occasion?” Logan asked as he climbed into the front seat.

“This is the special occasion, silly,” Patton responded turning on the radio.

“Today wasn’t particular special,” Logan said.

“Of course it is and anyway everyday can be a special day if you want it to be, it is what you do with it that makes it special,” Patton explained as they began driving home.

“I suppose that makes sense, it is the actions which make the day and not the occasion itself,” Logan answered.

“Exactly,”.

They drove home, picking up Dee on the way. While Patton prepared their lunch and did some preparatory work for the meal he had planned for dinner and broke out his recipe books, searching for tasty desserts to make. While Logan attempted to entertain Dee. They ate lunch together, listening to Dee’s babbling nonsense as he recounted his morning with grandma and grandpa, however, he and Logan both nodded along as if he were speaking perfect English. Logan helped with the dishes and they continued preparations for dinner, they talked about the test and Logan divulged his solutions and methods for solving each question. Roman and Virgil returned home and assisted in dinner preparations creating quite the mess but Patton couldn’t be happier. He made sure to take many, many pictures for his photo-album. They each made their own pizzas, decorating them with a variety of toppings. While they were cooking in the oven, they moved onto the desserts. A lemon cheesecake and shortbread biscuits. The kitchen was enveloped with so many amazing smells. Following an incredible dinner and dessert, Roman and Virgil set into action preparing the living room for their movie night; layering blankets and pillows across the sofa, arguing over the superior snack and arguing over which Disney movie they should rewatch (they ultimately agreed on The Princess and the Frog as it was one of the few remaining Princess films Logan hadn’t seen yet). In no time at all everyone was bundled up on the sofa together, singing along with Tiana’s ‘Almost There’. Patton couldn’t imagine a more perfect end to the night, surrounded by precious children, safe and happy even including Logan who smiled contentedly at the television, tapping his fingertips against the arm of the armchair (which had seemingly now been dubbed as ‘Logan’s armchair’) along to the beat. Patton was truly the luckiest man in the world.

...the knife plunged into his chest…

Logan awoke with a start, scrambling for the light switch, allowing a soft light to enter the room, dispelling the darkness invading his mind, pushing it back into the shadowed corners. He curled in on himself, raising his hands to his chest, sensing the rapid beating of his heart within his ribcage as he struggled to catch his breath. Why? Why was this happening? Why now? There had been no trigger. No warning signs. He hadn’t experienced any adverse emotions today. So why? Why was he brought back to that place. Logan clawed at his neck and chest, in attempt to rid himself of the sensation of their hands, the cool edge of the blade, the stinging pain. But it remained as if the memories were branded there like a tattoo, no amount of scrubbing could ever remove. He grasped the small bear he slept with every night, sinking his nails into its soft fur to prevent him from turning them on himself, despite the near overwhelming desire for distraction from the voices echoing over and over again in his mind. He needed to calm down. He was already descending into hyperventilation and if he failed to get his breathing under control he would likely wake and alert the others, which was the last thing he wanted to occur. SO, GET IT TOGETHER, GOD DAMNIT!

Patton’s kind words entered his mind, reminding him of the breathing technique he had shown and helped him through on several occasions. Logan refused to disturb Patton at this hour over something so insignificant so decided to count through it himself. He brought his trembling hand, still clutching the toy to his chest. Moving with the expanding and deflating of his chest cavity. It took several frustrating tries of repeating the cycle before his breathing eventually began to slow, guided by Patton’s words and the pain eased. Logan prepared to attempt to lull himself back to sleep to combat the inevitable exhaustion he would feel tomorrow but just as he buried himself underneath his covers. A terror-fuelled scream forced him to his feet.

The screaming did not stop and was coming directly from Virgil and Declan’s room across the hall. What was happening? What manner of horrible thing was occurring to produce that reaction? Logan brain wouldn’t cease. Imagining scene after horrifying scene. He shook the images from his head and grabbed his glasses from his night-stand and rushed out of his room just in time to see Patton running into Virgil and Declan’s room. From his position by the door Logan could see Virgil’s trembling figure, hands desperately clawing at his skin as he screamed and cried out. Patton immediately took Virgil’s hands to prevent him from harming himself any further, attempting to talk to him as Virgil writhed in his grip.

“N-NO…NO…PLEASE…S-STOP…STOP IT…WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS HE!” Virgil shrieked as he struggled for every breath, his trembling body raked by tremors and seizing, fighting against Patton’s grasp but Patton held firm. Desperately trying to reach him with his soft, comforting words. “HURT ME INSTEAD…PLEASE DON’T HURT HIM…HURT ME…DON’T TOUCH HIM…W-WHERE IS HE?”.

Virgil’s screams only grew louder and more frantic in his anguish, as he begged for pain, begged for punishment, begged to take all of the hurt for himself to spare his brother. Logan’s gaze switched from Virgil to Declan who stood in his toddler bed, wailing, crying out for his brother, howling in their shared pain.

“Virgil, baby, look at me. Dee-Dee is okay, he is safe and so are you. Look at him, he is here and so are you. You aren’t there anymore,” Patton repeated softly, guiding Virgil’s head so he could see Declan, Patton then quickly stood, picking Declan up from his bed and placing him down onto Virgil’s bed before returning to holding Virgil arms and Virgil himself together as he broke down. Declan wrapped his tiny, shaking body around Virgil almost instinctively.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry…s-sorry…I-I’m bad…I’m bad…take me back…p-please…take me back,” Virgil whimpered almost inaudibly due to his gasps for air, in between pained wails. Virgil’s turmoil and breakdown was painful to watch, he couldn’t recall all the numerous times he had been in the same position, the same deafening thoughts circling like sharks in his mind awaiting the perfect moment to strike.

“No…no, you are not bad, you are perfect Virgil, okay? You are here. In your home. In your room. In your bed. I am here for you. I need you to breathe for me can you do that?” Patton asked extending a careful hand out towards Virgil’s chest and bringing Virgil’s hands which he still held in his own to his chest. “Just follow my breathing, you know what to do?”.

The breathing cycle began. Logan watched, frozen as they repeated it again and again and again. Until he was snapped out of his daze by a hand on his shoulder. He swiftly to see Roman, stony-faced and serious, very unlike the happy-go-lucky Roman from days prior, hour prior even. He had likely witnessed numerous of Virgil’s panic attacks in the past, knew his triggers and behaviours, knew his traumas and what he had been through before he was taken in by Patton.

“He had a flashback,” Roman stated with non of his usual flair or ferocity. “He used to get them all of the time, really bad ones, he would scream for hours that he was bad and that dad needed to take him back. They usually would only stop once he passed out but one time he got so sick and scared dad had to take him to the hospital, it was terrifying. At the time, I knew his mental health was bad but I had never, ever seen him like that before. It has been a while since his last one, I thought he was getting better,”.

Logan knew what a flashback was like. He had experienced them himself. Trapped in a loop of memories the past wouldn’t allow you to forget, replaying it over and over again until by some miraculous feat you broke out of it. He did not envy Roman, being forced to watch someone you care about go through something so horrible while being powerless to prevent or remedy it. It mustn’t have been easy growing up.

“I know you have nightmares too Logan,” Roman said unprompted. Logan’s body lurched, twisting rapidly toward Roman, reacting to what he had just said. “I can hear you in the middle of the night and it is obvious you aren’t sleeping,”.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Logan responded bluntly, turning away from Roman to once again face Patton and Virgil. Hoping he would drop the subject and not question him any further.

“Alright,” Roman answered and he remained true to his word, he didn’t probe any further.

Virgil’s breathing finally began to slow as did his whimpers and frantic whispering yet Patton’s comforting words and careful touch didn’t cease until Virgil’s body itself began to slow, as he quickly succumbed to exhaustion, allowing himself to slump into Patton’s open arms. Patton laid his sleeping figure down gently, covering his still trembling form with his weighted blanket before laying down next to him, running his fingers through Virgil’s hair, soothing him into what would be a hopefully dreamless slumber.

“Virg…Virge,” Declan whimpered reaching out towards Virgil.

“Come here, darling, come lie with daddy,” Patton whispered softly, urging Dee to lie down besides him. Patton held him close to his chest as they did and eventually he also drifted off to sleep along side Virgil as Patton watched over them.

Roman silently closed the door, removing any and all outside noise, allowing them all to sleep somewhat peacefully, despite the nights unpleasant events. Logan prepared to return to his room, to attempt to lull himself back to sleep. He expected Roman would do the same but instead Roman sat down on the hallway floor, back pressed against the door as if he were preparing to spend the night there.

“What are you doing Roman?” Logan asked curious to why Roman would decide to spend his night in the cold hallway rather than in the warmth of his own room.

“Just sitting here, I always do it, I’ll leave when dad does,” Roman explained. He was supporting Virgil the only way he knew how, by simply being present. It was a kind sentiment not the most practical but Logan didn’t want to argue so merely nodded and turned to return to his room.

“Night Logan,” Roman called out to him.

“Goodnight Roman,” Logan responded as he entered his room.

Logan did not sleep, given what he had seen, finding peace in sleep was impossible so he lay in bed, staring up at his imitation of the night sky. He sometimes wished he could lay underneath the real night sky, in a quiet, empty field, a cool breeze waving over him. Only himself and the stars. That would be nice.

Logan remained lost in his imagination until he caught a glimpse at his alarm clock, it had been half an hour since he entered his room and hadn’t heard Roman’s door. Was he still sitting outside of Virgil’s room? Perhaps Logan should check on him, just in case? Logan got out of his bed and left his room to see…yes…Roman, asleep, sitting on the floor. His head drooped to one side and his arms wrapped around his torso for warmth. There was a cool breeze present within the hallway, it sent a shiver through Logan’s body, he couldn’t imagine how cold Roman would be considering he was sleeping out here.

Logan went into Roman’s room picking up the soft, thick red blanket from his bed and bringing it out into the hallway, draping it over Roman’s sleeping form before returning to his own room. He sat on the edge of his bed, wide awake, he glanced upwards once again. At his stars. Despite their plastic construction, they provided him some sort of comfort. Logan didn’t understand why. It seemed he didn’t understand much of anything any more. Logan collapsed back onto this bed. He hoped Virgil was okay. Maybe, they could talk tomorrow. He wanted to support him through whatever had triggered his flashback but perhaps it was the similarities he shared with Virgil which resulted in this urge. The horrible things he screamed, Logan had often thought about himself but refused to voice, instead allowing them to infiltrate his mind and spiralling until he broke. Shattered. Unfixable. Broken. That is what he was.

Logan did not sleep that night.

Taglist: @i-do-not-dislike-fudge @poems-art-darkness-n-more @skylark-cain @amber1594 @darkrainbow333 @falseh0od @lovingcreatorstrawberry @gr3ml1n-loser @callboxkat @tacochippy @angelgrace003 @comicsimpson @themischievous-one @cobythinks @whatschooldoesntteachyou @fandomkitty8 @coloursintheblur @read-write-inspire-repeat @clinicalawesomeness @janus-sanders-deserves-better @scared-ghosthunter @silverstarlinedart @winterrose42 @dumbgayemo @imthatgrace2 @glitchybina @quietwords-loudthoughts @vanilla-rose-swirl @laurabrand

If you have any requests or questions about the series or want to be added to the taglist please don’t hesitate to send me an ask. Thanks.

#sander sides au #sander sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #symapthetic deceit #thomas sanders #character thomas #Emile Picani #cartoon therapy #Adoption AU #original characters #My fic #My writing #home is where the hart is #found families

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grouptalekindnesssoulstories · 4 years ago

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Tower Locked

@recipe-for-thomathy :p I did it (also a quick look at the notes @midnightstorm-underthe-moon here you go)

Based on this art piece and summary of the same name by @fangirltothefullest

Once upon a time, high up in the tallest tower and guarded by a dutiful and protective serpent, it is said royal twins of a long lost kingdom surrounded in thorn were cursed to sleep for a thousand years by a cruel Dragon Witch. Now they have woken together with no memory of who they once were, surrounded by a knight, a sorcerer, and a strange looking frog…..

Warnings: Swearing, This is 3rd person limited but I switch whose head I invade,

It’s said that if you see the thorn walls, you have entered the serpent’s lair. Once, rumors circulated about the inhabitants. Two princes, of equal wisdom cursed to lie there for an eternity. Some tried to enter, believing true love’s kiss would save the princes. But none made it beyond the serpent. And as time passed, the boys were forgotten, laying forever preserved in their sleep. Until the curse had run its course.

~~~

“Ro?” Remus was the first to stir, reaching for his brother. There was no response for seconds that dragged on for an eternity.

“Why’d you have to wake me Re? I was having a good dream” The response finally came, a sleepy figure sitting up across the room.

“Pardon me for getting scared. Usually...huh. That’s weird. I can’t remember what I’m referencing. What was your dream about?” Remus stood up and crept to his brother’s bed. Roman moved over to let him curl up next to him.

“We were knights in a foreign land...someo-someone...it’s fading. Reeee you idiot I needed to write that down!” Roman shoved his brother carefully.

“Your highnesses! We received wo-” A man burst into the room. He glanced around for a moment before hopping over to the pair. Once they got a good look at him they began screaming and backing up.

“Frog man! Ewwww get it away from me!” Roman yelled. Remus reached without hesitation for a weapon that was not there. When his hand met empty air he resorted to his feet and threats.

“I will kick you so far, your head will disconnect from your body and blood will spurt everywhere!” He kicked out, sharp toed boots coming dangerously close before something appeared and scooped the small frog-man out of reach.

“Patton, we agreed to wait until we were together. If I had known you would rush in here, I would not have informed you that they were awake” A soft voice lectured.

“But I wanted to seeee LoLo” The frogman whined, indicating he was Patton. “LoLo” set the man down, sighing.

“I know. And I share your excitement. However, Janus and Virgil have yet to be ready. Princes, would you like some food while we wait?” He finally turned to the twins, eyes softened.

“Uh...us?” Roman asked, hugging his brother.

“Food, yes, yes yes” Remus chimed in, wiggling happily.

“Easy Re. Have we met before?”

“No, but yes? But mostly no!” Patton said, hopping up onto the bed. He had a glowing smile, one that actually glowed. Remus immediately lashed out again with one foot, Roman’s arms not enough to quell his swirling emotions.

“Pardon us. We’ll bring you food as we wait for our friends. We’ll explain then” The muscled man once more scooped his friend out of range, exiting the room. Roman pulled his brother closer, combing Remus’s long hair with one hand.

“I’m scared. Those men acted like they knew us Ro, and I...I don’t remember” Remus finally said, voice small. Roman hummed, focusing on trying to tame the rat’s nest his twin had.

“I know. I don’t remember either, and I don’t know what to do. For now, we just have to wait and watch out for each other” He finally spoke. His thoughts were a jumble, and all he could think to do was watch out for his brother. And right now that meant keeping him calm and present.

“You know I won’t leave your side my liege” Remus said without pause. Roman snickered.

“Oh no, my brave knight, save me from the tower!” Roman responded in a high pitched voice, still laughing. “A furious dragon keeps me here!”

“Excuse me, but I’m a serpent, and I’ve kept you safe for this long” A hoarse voice cut in. “I brought food”

“Food!” Both of the twins sat up with twin gasps of joy at the sight of the new arrival. The slender man handed them the trays before retreating to sit on the unoccupied bed. He watched as the twins dug in without hesitation.

“Janus” Another figure entered, armor quietly clanking as he crossed the room.

“Hello dear. It appears today was the lucky day” The response was quiet, hissing from the figure’s lips as they finally turned away.

“It was” LoLo entered the room as well, Patton cradled in one arm.

“Explainy time!” Remus said, interrupting the mushy gushy moment.

“Very well. You have met Patton and I, and this is Janus and Virgil” LoLo began, pointing to each of the other pair in turn.

“I have been the one guarding this tower since you fell asleep. Logan put a spell on the rest soon after you succumbed to your curse” Janus continued, the hissing more obvious as he played with their hair.

“Curse?” Roman asked, pausing in his own hair grooming (no word sounds good here I’m sorry -Delphine). Remus whined softly, and Roman switched sides.

“Yes. 1,000 years ago you were cursed by a Dragon Witch. Your kingdom has since fallen to ruins beyond this tower. However, we will still use your proper titles” Virgil shrugged, slouching slightly.

“Our WHAT?” Remus yelled, startling everyone.

“....Your kingdom? Y’know, Mindscape?” Patton ventured.

“We don’t know anything by that name, you guys are fucking unfamiliar, and we just want to go home, wherever that is!” Roman cried. Remus started sniffling too.

“Do they not remember?” Virgil asked, looking to Logan.

“This will be more difficult than I thought. They have no memories beyond...I suppose who they are to each other, and their base memories. No whys or hows” Logan responded thoughtfully, bending down to study each of the twin’s foreheads.

“Don’t invade” Janus said, no real bite to his voice. In fact, they almost seemed to be doing so only by principle.

“We’re brothers. And you’re being bitches” Remus stated, glaring back. Virgil approached, lowering to a kneel by the bed the twins sat on.

“Let me start over. I’m Sir Virgil, loyal knight sworn to protect you when you woke. You were princes of mindscape, splitting your duties between the pair of you. Prince Remus you were leader of us knights. Prince Roman, you handled the diplomatic shit-”

“Virgil!” Patton cut in.

“...Diplomatic matters. Happy Pat?” Virgil hissed “This is Patton, who is in charge of the running of the house. Sorcerer Logan over there has protected us from magical threats and making sure when you woke we would be here. And Janus is the serpent who has protected us these 1,000 years” Virgil finished explaining.

“And I do not wish to discuss how I ended up with the task” Janus pitched in snottily.

“I know dear”

“Are you still hungry?” Patton chipped in cheerfully.

“N...no” Roman shook his head.

“Tastes bad” Remus added unhelpfully.

“It is old. My magic can only go so far” Logan added, straightening to his full height.

“And our garden needs time to grow. Never try to speed up a plant’s growth! One of the key...rules..of magecraft” Patton tried to sound light hearted, but even he couldn’t keep it up.

“It’s okay Pat. We’ll figure it out” Virgil offered awkwardly.

“We know very little of this world. To try and venture beyond these walls without learning would be...ill advised” Logan was chewing on his lip.

“And I’m no help. I hibernate a lot. Couldn’t risk leaving far either. I had to stay. For your sakes” Janus offered, one hand going to his elongated teeth.

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icecoldflames · 4 years ago

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Chapter 4 - The Mystery of Sanders Castle

Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

***

Present Day, England

Classes were the same ones Roman would have done in America but somehow he was looking forward to these ones. Unfortunately, he had to wait for last period with Ms. Yano’s history class. He supposed he should be lucky—he could’ve had her class tomorrow.

His first class was with the first man he had been introduced to yesterday, Mr. Divan for science. Obviously, for the first class of the year, nothing was really taught. Most of it was rules and introductions. Roman learned that Mr. Divan had travelled pretty much everywhere. To Tanzania, Singapore, Bulgaria, Paraguay, Laos, Taiwan, and so many other countries. Mr. Divan showed a quick presentation of photographs he had taken and Roman had loved it so much that he had asked him, after class, if he would send the presentation to him so he could look more closely at the pictures.

The next class was English which was taught by a short, older man named Mr. Losnedahl. Oskar was in that class.

Math taught by Ms. Cirenza (Satomi in that class) and Creative Writing with Ms. Wren flew by so quickly that Roman felt like he blinked and they were both over.

If this was how his days would go, Roman wished he could slow time because soon he’d be on the plane ride home back to America for summer.

On his way to Ms. Yano’s class, Roman bumped into Maxime also on his way to her class. “How has your day been?” Roman asked him excitedly, feeling his body beginning to buzz. He had been looking forward to this moment since last evening.

“It was good,” Maxime said simply.

Roman was still not used to how un-chatty Maxime was. So far, the longest conversation he had had with his roommate was about Harry Potter yesterday morning.

“Do you have any classes with Oskar?” Roman tried again. “He and I share science and math class.”

“Yeah, English and my nature class.”

They arrived at Ms. Yano’s class and, when Roman walked in, he was momentarily blown away by all the art and portraits hung on the walls and the patterned tapestry hung like a makeshift ceiling. Most of the rooms in the castle were high-ceilinged, very open and large. But the tapestry made the whole classroom seem like some kind of den. Like a cottage in the middle of a flower field.

Roman would meet the rest of his teachers tomorrow but he knew that none of their classrooms would compare to Ms. Yano’s.

Ms. Yano herself stood over to the side, speaking quietly to a student who Roman recognized as Spencer from math class.

Ms. Yano was of average height and her black hair was cut severely at her shoulders. She wore blood red lipstick that made her look like some kind of vampire. But it oddly suited her. She was, however, no doubt Satomi’s mom for she had practically the same face as her.

The desks were in pairs and Roman and Maxime found a spot together near the front without a word being uttered between them. Roman began opening up his notebook and made sure there was enough lead in his mechanical pencil to last the whole class. If Ms. Yano would be spilling the tea on the Sanders’ and Scharf’s then he couldn’t have any issues with writing all of it down.

Maxime looked confusedly at the opened notebook. “Is she the type of teacher to teach on the first day?” He hesitantly began opening up his own notebook and pencil case.

“Oh, no. At least, I haven’t heard anything about that. But I’m hoping she’ll shed some light on the royal family who used to live in this castle and the family who used to live in the castle across the woods.”

Maxime seemed to want to say a lot of things at once. “What castle across the woods…? Oh, are you talking about those ruins?”

“Ruins?” Roman’s eyes grew wide. No one said anything about ruins. What had happened to the Scharf’s castle?

At that exact moment, Spencer and Ms. Yano seemed to finish their conversation and Spencer sat themself down next to another student near the back of the classroom.

Ms. Yano fixed a small pile of papers on her desk before finally looking at her last class of the day. Her eyes drifted over her students and then stopped at Roman’s face. Her whole body froze and she looked like she stopped breathing. Roman was fully prepared to help her if something happened.

Ms. Yano blinked once and then she seemed fine. She didn’t even acknowledge the fact that she had momentarily stopped breathing.

Roman couldn’t help but feel that he had caused whatever had happened to Ms. Yano. She had been looking at the class and stopped at Roman. Unless it was some kind of horrible coincidence.

Disappointingly, the class was like all the rest he had been to that day. Introductions. Roman learned Ms. Yano’s first name (Akemi), where she was born (Japan), her husband’s name and occupation (Stan, a freelance artist), and even her favourite colour (red). But Roman learned absolutely nothing about the Sanders’ or the Scharf’s.

Roman had been patient enough to wait for today but waiting another day and possibly more? He didn’t think he could take it.

So, once class was dismissed for the day he told Maxime that he was going to ask Ms. Yano a question and that he could go on. Maxime was probably glad to be away from Roman’s extroverted self anyway.

As the room emptied, Roman walked over to Ms. Yano’s desk like a fish swimming upstream.

Roman was about to ask about the Sanders when Ms. Yano suddenly stood up and gave a tight smile to him. “Roman, do you want to go for a walk to the library?”

Roman’s eyebrows drew down in confusion. “The library?” He repeated. Could Ms. Yano read his mind? Or did Satomi tell her mom about his interest in the Sanders’? That was a possibility. “I was going to ask about the Sanders’ and if you could tell me about them. I know that you’re going to tell us about it in class but I’m beyond curious. I have to know.”

Ms. Yano nodded and she pursed her lips, looking at Roman so oddly that he wondered if he had anything stuck in his teeth. “Yes, I’ll tell you on the way to the library.” And then she began walking.

“As you probably know, the last royals who lived in this beautiful castle were the Sanders’. This consisted of King James, Queen Alice, and Prince Logan,” Ms. Yano began, slowing her walking just slightly. Roman listened very carefully, not wanting to miss a detail.

“When the prince was around 19, he was put into an arranged marriage with the eldest princess from Betrug, just across the woods.” She gestured to her left where Roman assumed the Scharf’s castle to be. “The Scharf’s. It’s said that they got along just fine. Her name was Philomena and she brought her brother, the crown prince, Virgil Scharf to their first meeting.

“Prince Virgil was in an arranged marriage, himself. To a princess from France. Anyway, that’s not necessarily important to this story. The two princes were said to be very close, like best friends. Philomena and Logan got along just fine as well, acting much more like friends than lovers but, then again, they were practically strangers to one another.

“When Logan visited the Scharf’s a couple weeks later, some of the citizens there took Philomena hostage—” Ms. Yano suddenly stopped short and Roman blinked. He felt as though he had just woken up from a long nap and was trying to remember where he was.

They had passed the library doors and Ms. Yano had led them down a deadend hallway where he assumed no one really went. Roman glanced up at Ms. Yano, perplexed, but the teacher seemed transfixed on something else. Her face was tilted up and Roman followed her gaze up the wall where a massive portrait was hung.

“It’s me,” Roman breathed.

“No,” Ms. Yano said, shaking her head softly. She pointed to the gilded metal nameplate at the bottom of the portrait. “It’s Prince Logan.”

Roman sucked in his breath. “Prince Logan?” He repeated, in awe. “We could’ve been twins.”

Logan, maybe late teens, was sitting on the steps of a gazebo that Roman remembered looking at when he explored the gardens outside with Patton earlier that morning. His face was serious and his light brown hair was brushed back. He was surrounded by dark blue flowers. And, although Roman was 14, there was no mistaking how uncanny the resemblance was between him and Prince Logan.

“Roman, how well do you know your ancestry?” Ms. Yano asked, tearing her gaze away from the portrait and, instead, looking back at Roman.

Roman rubbed his chin. “Well, my dad has Irish roots and my mom, well, my mom’s mom was adopted, just like Patton is, and my mom’s dad has Scottish roots.” He paused. “Do you think I’m related to Prince Logan?” The idea seemed so surreal coming out of his mouth and, had Prince Logan not looked exactly like Roman, he wouldn’t have believed it himself.

“Does your mom know anything about her mom?” Ms. Yano asked and Roman tried to think of anything. But nothing came to mind.

“No, my grandmother died a couple of years ago. She was adopted as a toddler so I don’t think she would’ve remembered anything anyway,” Roman replied.

Ms. Yano sighed and stayed silent.

Roman was about to ask Ms. Yano to finish her story. Did they ever get Philomena back in time for the wedding? What about Prince Virgil?

But another teacher Roman didn’t recognize hurried up to Ms. Yano. “Akemi! The staff meeting is about to start!”

Ms. Yano pursed her lips and she glanced at the watch around her wrist. “Of course,” she muttered and looked down at Roman apologetically. “I’m sorry, Roman. I have to go.” She gestured to the library. “I suggest you take a look in the library. They have a couple of books on Prince Logan that you might enjoy.” She hurried off and Roman was left alone with the picture of Prince Logan staring down at him.

At this point, Roman was desperate. He had been given a little taste of the story of Prince Logan and he would do just about anything to know the end. He made his way out of the hallway, looked at the library, and sighed as he made his way inside.

The library was nice, Roman supposed. It was definitely old and he sneezed almost as soon as he entered. He asked the librarian where the books on Prince Logan were and she directed him to the back of the library.

Libraries were not Roman’s thing. He found them too silent and foreboding. And way too serious. But he needed to know what happened to Prince Logan and the Scharf siblings.

He kept his steps quiet as he progressed deeper and deeper into the library. It was nearly empty, Roman only passing a couple of students. Some of them weren’t even reading, they were just speaking in hushed voices.

Roman supposed it was better than hanging out in the bathroom, which a lot of kids at his old school used to do which was just disgusting and weird.

Finally, he made it to the back of the library where an unlit stone fireplace was. On either side of it was a reading nook where two massive leather armchairs were placed, a wooden, round table between them.

In the nook to Roman’s left, he recognized Satomi reading a brown book. She was upside down in the armchair, her legs sticking out over the back rest. She seemed very interested in her book as her face was scrunched up.

Satomi glanced up, as though she could detect someone near her. “Hi Roman,” she greeted, pulling her legs back down and sitting up normally. “Are you here for books on the Sanders’?”

Roman nodded and took the armchair opposite her. He sank into the chair, and felt as though he could sleep in them. He might come to the library more often just to sit in the armchairs. “Yeah.” He gestured to the book she was holding, a finger keeping her page. “What book are you reading?”

“Ronan M.V. Gighe-Lapillio’s biography,” Satomi responded, flashing Roman a view of the brown cover.

“Ronan M.V. who-now?” Roman tried to repeat. It was almost as confusing as Dumbledore’s full name. “Who’s that?”

“The founder of Violet Branch,” Satomi said with a shrug. “Although it’s rumoured that Ronan was just a pseudonym.”

There were so many mysteries that they were beginning to make Roman’s head spin. “Well, wouldn’t people know his real name anyway?”

“You’d think so, but no. Ronan was a secretive and private man and no one ever saw him, at least, not without knowing. He made no public appearances but it was said that he was a fast worker and an even faster runner, able to be in one place before being in another, totally different place a couple minutes later.”

Roman couldn’t help but have the thought that Ronan was just one letter away from his own name. Maybe it was just because he just saw his own face on a portrait that was painted two centuries ago. It seemed everything was connected back to him somehow.

Which made him remember what Satomi had asked when she first met him. Have I met you before? The, at first, weird question suddenly made perfect sense. “Hey, Satomi, I think I know why you thought you met me before.”

“Oh?” Satomi’s eyebrows jumped up and her eyes, which had been gradually roaming back to her book, shifted back to Roman.

“Your mom showed me a portrait of Prince Logan. He looks exactly like me.” Even saying it made Roman feel weird.

Satomi’s eyes widened. “Of course!” She exclaimed so loudly that the librarian who was near furiously shushed her. “Sorry,” she said, quieter, but it didn’t look like she was. “That makes so much sense. And it can’t possibly be a coincidence. You two practically look like twins. So you must be a descendant of Prince Logan!” Her voice kept growing as she continued but she spoke the next part more bitterly. “I always knew Crespo was a fraud.”

“Whoah, whoah, whoah,” Roman interrupted her train of thought. “It’s possible that me and the headmistress are descendants.”

Satomi rolled her eyes and she had a look on her face Roman hadn’t seen before. “Humph. I doubt it.”

“What do you have against her?”

“I don’t have anything against her,” Satomi said, crossing her arms and looking down angrily at her shoes.

Roman scoffed. “Sure, okay. I don’t believe you for one second.”

“I just don’t like her and I don’t believe Prince Logan’s her ancestor.”

Roman still wasn’t so sure of her answer but he decided to let it drop. He stood up, “you think you can show me the best books on Prince Logan then? I think I might die if I don’t find out what happens.”

Roman left the library with two books, one rather thin and another which had some weight to it. Satomi said they were the best two to read to get a grasp on what had happened without the annoying authors’ biases smacking you in the face and spitting on your unconscious body. Satomi’s words, not his.

Roman had the quickest supper he had ever had in his entire life and then he was off to his dorm to start reading, something he had never done before.

He decided to read the thin one first, hoping that maybe he’d get enough information from it without having to read the other one.

By the time Roman finished the first book, around three in the morning, Roman had a good idea of the events that had happened in this very castle. His butt was sore from sitting on the toilet seat (he had moved to the bathroom to read after Oskar and Maxime went to bed) and, while his body was stiff and tired, his brain was whirling.

Because there was one thing he wasn’t expecting.

Prince Virgil and Prince Logan had definitely been gay. And they had definitely been in a secret relationship.

#the mystery of sanders castle

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suppressedanxiety · 5 years ago

Note

"He had a Prince to scold." | me, sitting in a chair and pulling out a water bottle: I am here for this tea

@naninadapanda said: Yes go scold that prince And Virgil when you wake up I think you should tell Logan how you feel, he seems like he might be willing to listen a little bit.Anonymous said: Bad choices 2: Electric Boogaloo Okay but seriously this is not gonna end well at all, especially if patton finds out. Anyway Logan better yell at Roman for me, even tho hes also making dumb choices by not checking up on the other aspects of Anxietys health, hes most likely dehydrated at this point.@skeletonsloverockcandy said: YOU HAND IT TO HIM LOGAN, LET ROMAN HAVE IT@enby-phoenix said: At least Logan realizes that they’ve been treating Virgil badly. Poor kiddo tho, he really thought he was going to be dissected! That sounded TERRIFYING.@just-some-gt-trash said: Ooo Roman you’re in trouble

@dragonindigo245 said: I’m just so glad Virgil isn’t being mishandled anymore. Please give Roman a good scolding for me.@pansy-chic27213 said: Logan, while scolding Roman is all well and good, please, can you, for the love of all that is good and holy, at the very least, leave some food and water for Virgil, in case he wakes up before you return? Unless I am misunderstanding, and the Sides don’t need to eat. But if you need to eat, Virgil does too, and he has not, and I’m worried. (ÓnÒ)Anonymous said: I’m assuming that like half an hour has passed at most since Logan came to get Anxiety, so that means Roman’s probably still asleep. >:) Can’t say it’s not appealing to think about Roman being woken up by Logan scolding him after what he did to AnxietyAnonymous said: Logan, don’t be TOO hard on Princey, he didn’t know any more than you did. (But do let him know, because yikes.)

Three sharp knocks roused Roman from his slumber again, and since Patton’s knocks were much sweeter and the other resident of the house didn’t knock at all (and was currently much too small to knock), he knew exactly who it was at the door.

He rolled over to smush his face back into the pillow, thinking restful thoughts.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Ugh!” He dragged himself from the remnants of the wonderful dream he’d been having, and stormed across the room in a glittery bathrobe. He flung the door open. “What is it, Microsoft Turd, I’m trying to- Wait, where’s the emo?” He asked, thoughts derailed by Logan’s empty hands.

Now that he was looking, actually, those hands were clenched into fists. He trailed his gaze up to Logan’s face, and was surprised by the harsh set of it.

“In my room. Unconscious.” He bit out, and Roman blinked in surprise, waving a hand to return to his normal attire.

“What in the world happened?” He asked, moving forwards to exit his room. An arm shot out, blocking his way, and Logan pushed him back into the room, closing the door behind them. “What are you-?”

“You happened, Roman.” Logan cut him off, voice sharp. “I happened. He passed out because of the painful bruises encircling almost his entire torso.”

“What?” Roman near-screeched. “And you think that’s my fault? There’s no way!”

“Oh, do you propose something else caused it, then? Non illness-related fainting is primarily caused by exhaustion, a drop in blood sugar, dehydration, or severe pain. Do you mean to tell me that one of those other factors are causing this when I saw for myself the finger-shaped bruises on him?” Logan jabbed a finger into his chest with every symptom he listed.

Roman puffed up like an inflatable beach ball, prepared to defend himself, because Anxiety hadn’t uttered a single complaint while they were together, it must have happened some time else, but was drawn up short by a sudden thought. A drop in blood pressure or dehydration…

Had Anxiety eaten in the past twelve hours? He remembered putting leftovers from dinner away in the kitchen under the impression that he’d retrieve them whenever Anxiety got hungry. He didn’t remember Anxiety being hungry. Creations of the Imagination didn’t need to eat, and so he’d forgotten about the leftovers without a second thought.

“Oh, heavens.” A first aid kit appeared in his hands, and he moved forward again. “Perhaps I did make a mistake. A small one.”

Logan’s eyebrows raised, and then furrowed severely. “Do you mean to imply that one or more of the other factors are at play?”

“Quite possibly… all of them?” Roman admitted, and held up a hand to forestall any more scolding. “Before anything else, we should make sure he’s okay, right?”

“It would be best to check in with him directly to find out the cause, yes.” Logan said stiffly, finally letting him past to open the door. He began to lead the way down the hall and Logan spoke again. “Though… I’m not sure how honest he will be with us.”

“He’s lying?” Roman asked, lips pursed. “How does he expect us to take care of him properly if he doesn’t tell us what he needs?”

“I expect he doesn’t particularly want us to ‘take care of him’ at all, Roman. This could be a manifestation of that stubbornness, though a fairly ineffective one.” Logan said, dryly. The creative Side huffed.

“I truly do not understand that guy. This is the perfect opportunity to prove that his presence is necessary to Thomas, like he’s always yapping about.”

Logan hummed, too caught up in his own theories to properly respond. They finally reached his room, and Logan held an arm out to prevent Roman from entering, ignoring his quizzical glance to open a window that showed his desk.

“If he isn’t awake, I don’t want to startle him by entering,” he explained shortly, adjusting the view they saw through the window until the box Anxiety was placed in was in full view. He expected a snarky comment about his lack of extravagance, but instead Roman seemed almost speechless.

“Wow, he really is… small.” He said, staring down at the tiny form.

“Astute.” Logan sniped, and Roman elbowed him.

“You know what I mean!”

Logan did. Though objectively Anxiety’s size hadn’t changed, it was different to see him unconscious, bundled into a bed the size of their hands. The laxness of his form made him seem much more vulnerable than when he was puffing himself up and spitting like an angry cat.

He sighed. “It’s possible that we need to re-evaluate the parameters of this test.”

#naninadapanda #skeletonsloverockcandy #just-some-gt-trash #pansy-chic27213 #dragonindigo245 #enby-phoenix #anonymous #mostcertainlynotcis #asks #chrono #((roman done fucked up!))#((thanks everyone for making sure virgil gets his calories))

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temporaryistemporary · 6 years ago

Text

Invincible

@sugarglider9603 @ask-spiderverse-virgil

Warning: cursing, throwing up, blood and injury mention

Virgil always has a knack for fleeing the scene before Thomas could see if the kid was okay. Well not today. He needed to make sure Virgil was safe, if only for his own sanity.

————————————

It had been a rough fight. One of the major villains in the city decided the best time to cause major havoc was a week before semester finals when four out of the five spider themed heroes would be so tired out from studying that they could barely tell their right from their left half the time. But did the villains care? Fuck no.

So here Virgil was, sitting on the roof of the nearest building, body swaying in the wind as he watched Thom- Rainbow Weaver help the cops put the villain in one of their vans. Logan was sitting next to him with his legs dangling over the side of the building, head falling every so often before jerking up again, while Patton and Roman sat toward the middle of the roof, talking about who knows what. Their voices sounded muffled to Virgil, like they were speaking underwater. And maybe that should concern him, but Virgil hadn’t really slept more that maybe five hours in the past week so maybe it was his body telling him to kindly go to bed. Or maybe it was a concussion from when the big baddy had thrown Virgil into a brick wall? Eh, whatever. He could worry about that later. Preferably when he was back in bed. Not quite sleeping but definitely not fully aware of the outside world and the upcoming finals that we’re going to kick his ass.

Now that he was thinking about it, he should probably go now. Before Thomas corralled them all into his apartment for their after fight check up. And yeah, ok, maybe Virgil had more than just a possible concussion and he probably should get some medical attention, but he could do that himself. Thomas and the others didn’t need to worry about it, didn’t need to worry about him. He was fine. Maybe. Good enough to get home anyway.

Virgil shakily pushes himself to his feet, swaying even more and ignoring what may have been Logan saying something. He couldn’t really tell between Logan’s tired slurred speech and Virgil’s own spinning head. Stumbling his way to the south edge of the building, Virgil got ready to start making his way back home but was interrupted by Thomas, who had apparently finished helping the cops and had made his way up the tall building in the time it had taken for Virgil to walk to the other side of the roof. Perhaps Virgil was more out of it than he had originally thought.

“Virgil, where are you headed buddy?” Thomas called out, startling the other three. Ok good, Virgil wasn’t the only one who hadn’t noticed him. That had to count for something. Right? “Virgil?”

Oh, right. Thomas has asked him something.

“Just going home,” Virgil mumbled. Or did he? Had he spoken aloud? He couldn’t tell. His head was pounding now and he could barely hear himself think. “I’ve gotta get back to studying for finals.”

That was a good excuse. At least Virgil thought is was. Logan would believe it, if he wasn’t currently nodding off. Patton’s voice floated through the fog that clouded his thoughts, still barely heard over the drum like beat in his ears.

“Now kiddo, you know we always go to Thomas’ apartment after fights like this. I know finals are coming up but your health is more important. Studying can wait.”

Thomas spoke again. “Pat is right, Virge. Let me look you over and then you can go home, ok? I just want to make sure you didn’t get seriously hurt.”

But Virgil was already shaking his head, which wow ok, that was a bad idea. His vision was swimming now, Thomas becoming nothing but a blurry rainbow in Virgil’s line of sight. He pushed down the urge to vomit.

“I’m fine.” He croaked.

“C’mon now, sunshine.” Roman’s voice this time. “It’ll only take a moment.”

Talking, apparently, was getting Virgil nowhere fast. So he decided to do the next best thing. He pointed his hand directly behind him and shot a web at a larger building, waiting for it to connect, before throwing himself off the roof.

Or rather, he would have. Had Thomas not rushed forward and grabbed Virgil’s arm.

“Thomas!” Virgil yelped. “Let go!”

“Not until you agree to come with us.”

“Why? I’m fine!” Or he would be if Thomas would just fuck off. He was fine. He didn’t need help. All Virgil needed was to get home so he could get rid of this nauseating feeling and go to sleep. Why wouldn’t Thomas just let him go home? And why was he still fucking talking?

“Clearly, you’re not fine. This would be a lot easier for the both of us if you would just let me check you over. I just want to hel-“

And maybe it was a testament to how done Virgil was right now, because he would never have done this under normal circumstances. But right here, right now, running on insufficient sleep, his head pounding, his ears ringing, and the now distant burning on his right side, Virgil thought screw this and started yelling.

“I’m fine, Thomas! I’d be even better if you would just let go of me! I can take care of myself, I don’t need y-“ Virgil stopped, choked, and slapped a hand over his mask, right over where his mouth was. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea.

“Virge?” Patton.

He couldn’t answer. He’s not sure what he would have said anyway. Instead, he turned, ripped his mask off and fell to his knees. Logan was now coherent enough to follow what was happening and opened his mouth to say something but stopped when Virgil started retching into the empty alleyway below. Raising his voice like that had been a mistake. It had only served to further upset Virgil’s stomach and head, and he was really regretting it.

A warm hand brushed against Virgil’s neck and he jerked for a moment but relaxed when it began moving in soothing circles on his back. He threw up three more times before his body decided that was enough and let him stop. Virgil didn’t resist when the hand that was resting on his back moved to brace around his shoulders and another arm found its way under the bend of his knees. He was lifted effortlessly into the air, his head resting on Thomas’ chest.

Voices drifted in and out of focus but Virgil couldn’t quite grasp what they were saying. It didn’t matter though because even if he could, Virgil couldn’t stay awake long enough to really listen. His eyes fluttered closed as he unconsciously turned his head to press more into Thomas’s chest, the mans heart beating loudly in his ears and drowning out any other noise.

When Virgil next opened his eyes, he was laying on an old couch in a apartment that definitely wasn’t his, but thankfully one that he could still recognize. His head lay in someone’s lap and there was a hand gently running through his messy hair. From what Virgil could see through the window across from him, it was late. How late, Virgil wasn’t really sure. Late enough for most everyone to be asleep evidently. He could spot Patton curled up in an arm chair across the room, now in civilian clothes, head pillowed in his arms and looking like he fell asleep while eating what was probably a chocolate chip cookie. Roman was leaning up against the couch by Virgil’s feet, also in civilian clothes, having fallen asleep with his head tossed back onto the couch cushion. He couldn’t see Logan but from the faint snores he could hear down the hall, he was pretty sure he knew where he was. So that just left Thomas.

The hand in his hair stopped as whoever was petting him seemed to notice he had woken up. Damn, he was hoping to avoid this conversation for as long as possible.

“Virge?” So it was Thomas. Double damn.

Well, might as well get this over with.

“Yeah?” Wow, he sounded awful. It was like his voice went through a wood chipper.

The hand in his hair moved down to his shoulder, pulling Virgil so instead of laying on his side, he was now laying on his back and looking up at Thomas. And geez, if Virgil sounded bad, Thomas looked even worse.

“Are you okay?” Virgil’s not really sure what possessed him to ask that but he did it anyway. He was expecting an actual answer, or maybe even a scolding, but he was not prepared for Thomas to start laughing. Had he finally lost his mind? “Uh...Thomas?”

Thomas put his face in his hands, still laughing loudly.

“Am I...” He snorted. “Am I okay?”

Thomas uncovered his face, eyes meeting Virgil’s, and Virgil’s heart stopped. The smile had disappeared and there were tears gathering in Thomas’ eyes, the most heartbroken look Virgil had ever seen showing on his face.

“Am I okay?” Thomas repeated, voice more desperate and hysterical. “Virgil, I should be asking you that!”

Virgil sat up now, situating himself so he was kneeling on the couch and facing Thomas completely. He didn’t speak though, waiting for the older man to continue.

“I got to the roof to see you dead on your feet and about to swing your way across town.” Virgil winced. “You wouldn’t listen to me and let me help you! And then-“ Thomas voice cracked, his tears finally escaping, “then you got so sick and you passed out, Virgil. You passed out in my arms and you wouldn’t wake up. Roman was hysterical. Patton started crying and Logan was panicking.” Fuck. “And we brought you back here and what do we find out? Your head was bleeding, you probably have a concussion from whatever hit caused that, and the skin on your side was fucking peeled off. Like you went through a cheese grater or something.” Was that why it was burning earlier? “It was bad, kid, like really bad. There was so much blood, we thought we were going to have to take you to the hospital. We fixed you up though, got your side and head bandaged. We helped you because that’s what family does, Virge. You just need to let us.”

Thomas was crying even harder now and, if he was being honest, Virgil was about to cry too. He had upset them. Made Patton cry. Made Thomas cry. Thomas never cried.

Crap, now Virgil actually was crying. He ducked his head to avoid looking at Thomas as tears ran down his cheeks. A sigh came from above him and for a second Virgil thought Thomas was mad again. He hated Virgil, he had too, Virgil was awful. He jumped when he was pulled into a tight embrace, his head once again resting against Thomas’s chest, and then relaxed. Thomas wouldn’t try to comfort Virgil if he hated him.

Virgil buries his face into Thomas’ chest again and sobbed.

“I-“ He hiccuped. “I’m-I’m sorry.”

Another sigh, and a hand found its way back to Virgil’s hair.

“It’s okay, Virge. Breathe.” Thomas coaxed Virgil through some breathing excersises, helping them both to calm down enough to speak, though Virgil refused to move his away from his hiding spot in Thomas’s chest. Thomas didn’t seem to mind though, his hand continued to run through Virgil’s tangled hair, smoothing out the knots and making Virgil relax against him even more.

“Virgil?” Thomas whispered.

“Hm.”

“Promise me something?” Arms squeezes around him even tighter.

“What?” Virgil asked, chest tightening. Promises never meant anything good as far as Virgil was concerned.

“Promise me you’ll tell us next time you’re injured.” It wasn’t a question this time. “Please. You really scared us when you passed out like that, kid.”

Virgil let out a shakey breath.

“Why?”

Thomas leaned back to look Virgil in the eyes. “Because we care about you. We don’t like to see you hurt, especially like that.” Thomas hugged him close again.

They were quiet for a moment, and then Thomas let out a huff of air that resembled a laugh.

“You know, kid, you’re kind of the reason we do the whole post fight check up.”

Virgil jerked back from the hug and stared wide eyed at Thomas.

“Excuse me?” He would have yelled if the others weren’t sleeping.

“Yeah,” Thomas chuckled, “You kept sneaking off after battles and I was worried you were hiding your injuries from us, so I started the check up thing to make sure all of you were okay.”

Virgil was still staring at him, and Thomas was afraid he had angered the kid somehow, but that was proven wrong when Virgil snorted and dissolved into giggles.

“You’re ridiculous, old man.”

“Hey!”

Virgil just continued to laugh as he leaned more into Thomas, who pouted. Finally, after about ten minutes, Virgil quieted. Thomas looked down at him, about to say something but stopped when he realized Virgil had fallen back asleep.

Thomas gazed down fondly at the kid. He leaned back to rest long ways across the couch, Virgil laying across his chest, and closed his eyes, finally drifting off to sleep.

#sanders sides #sanders sides spiderverse au #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #my writing #if theres anything i need to tag then let me know

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maxinajar · 6 years ago

Text

Annoying Remorse: A Rociet Fanfiction

Note: this is the very first fanfiction i have ever written, so please keep that in mind while reading it. i don't have much experience writing for characters that i didn't create, but i think i did a pretty good job. And thanks @shadowenbynerd for helping me with the idea and some much-appreciated feedback!

Summary: Roman has to go be a valiant prince in order to save a most unusual damsel, much to the disapproval of his fellow sides.

Characters: Roman Sanders, Deceit Sanders (Sympathetic), Patton Sanders (Slightly Negative), Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Dragon Witch

Pairing: Roceit

Warnings: Kidnapping, Self-deprecation, Violence, Blood, Injuries, Panic Attack Mention, Hallucinations

Please let me know if I need to add anything to the warnings.

The day had started off normal enough. Roman had woken up, done his usual pep talk in front of his mirror (though today was a bit less peppy than usual for some reason) and then headed down to breakfast with all the rest of the sides.

Well, almost all of them.

He sighed to himself as he remembered Deceit. He had punished himself dearly that night, yelling at himself and feeling horrible about the seemingly hopeless situation he had found himself in. After giving in to the pressure from Virgil and Patton, he had turned against the newest addition to their group. He didn't mean to, he just didn't want to lose what he already had. But after seeing how upset Dee had gotten, well he just couldn't feel right.

He sat down at his seat, contemplating exactly how to make it up to Dee. After all, even if the rest wouldn't accept him, the least Roman could do was offer a hand of friendship towards him.

“Hey Ro, how ya feeling?”

Roman startled at the sound of Patton’s voice, bumping the table a bit as he wildly looked around for him.

“Oh, me. Why would you even ask that Pat, I’m as fine as I've ever been,” he said with a bit of a dramatic flair. “I've just been a bit blue over what happened the other day with Deceit and all that..”

What… he hadn't meant to say that. Why did he say that? Now they were gonna get all worried and junk.

“Uh, I mean.. Nothing,” he said, desperately trying to backtrack over his previous sentence in an attempt to make them forget about it.

...

It didn't work.

“Whoa Roman, why are you upset about that? I mean, it's not like you did anything wrong.” Roman could hear the confusion in Patton's words, but for some reason, he also heard some… contempt?

“Yeah, I mean. Deceit was wrong, you finally realized that and made everything right again. Nothing to be blue about Princey.” Virgil said from inside his hoodie. Roman wasn't quite sure why he was hiding there, but he also didn't really care right now.

“But I didn't. Because he wasn't wrong. I only agreed with you all because I didn't want you to be upset with me..” He clasped his hand over his mouth immediately after finishing that sentence. What was wrong with him this morning? Why was he being so truthful?... Deceit, something must have happened to him. It certainly would explain the tone of voice Patton had had with him earlier.

The other three sides looked at him, a bit of confusion and some distress written clearly on their faces. Even Logan's, which was a clear sign of something being wrong.

“Ro, I.., ” Patton began, but it was clear he didn't know how to finish his thought. Of course, since Deceit was missing Patton couldn't lie through his teeth about not being disappointed or angry with any of them.

“Somethings wrong.” Logan looked around at each of the sides, analyzing their moves and facial expressions. “One second.”

And with that final word he left. The rest of the sides looked around, at a loss of what to say or do.

“Well, might as well eat this,” Virgil says, already chowing down on the plate in front of him. Solemnly, Roman and Patton joined him.

Soon their plates were empty and Logan still hadn’t returned. Roman got up to leave, not wanting to spend another minute in the tense atmosphere.

“WAIT!” Roman jumped at the exclamation. He turned around to see Logan, out of breath with his tie crooked, standing by his seat.

“Logan?” Roman took a step towards him, unsure as to what was going on exactly.

“It's Thomas, he isn't lying,” Logan stated, adjusting his tie and composing himself.

“Well, isn't that a good thing? Why did ya rush over and make us worried Lo?” Patton crossed his arms, awaiting a response he was confident would confirm his claim.

“No Patton, you aren't understanding. Thomas isn't just not lying, he is sharing every thought he has with everyone.” The look on Logan's face was pained, it looked like he was also struggling with the same thing.

“Something happened to Deceit,” Roman muttered, already turning to go check on him. He knew it. He knew that what had happened must have hurt him. And now he had ducked out, just like Virgil had. He thought he had learned from that experience. Not to brush off the others. Not to be cruel or mean to them. After all, they all are part of Thomas, and he wouldn't be able to function properly without every single one of them.

Without waiting to hear Patton's inevitable warning, Roman exited the room. He practically ran to Deceit’s room, worried and a bit angry at him for being stupid enough to do this. Especially after everything he had said last time, about wanting to help and protect Thomas. When Roman got there he was going to have a stern conversation with the little liar.

When Roman finally reached the door he stopped, frozen in place by what he saw. On the door was a letter sealed in an envelope. He didn't even have to read it to know who it was from. The unmistakable seal staring back at him filled him with cold dread and silent rage.

The Dragon Witch had Deceit.

#sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides #tw self deprecation #tw kidnapping #roman sanders #deceit sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roceit

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aliferous-ly · 6 years ago

Text

Forgot

WOW I TOTALLY DIDNT FORGET ABOUT SECRET SANTA AHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHA ME??? FORGET??? NEVER

Summary: “Logan, meanwhile, was struggling to suppress the growing panic in his chest. Stupid, stupid, stupid, Logan chastised himself, rubbing his gloves together, breaths making little puffs of white in the cold air. What would still be open? Walmart? Probably? For those as irresponsible and foolish as he?”

Words: 3866 bc i’m uncontrollable

Genre: fluff??? idk my man

Pairing: there’s no explicit romance. logicality if you squint but its like, heavy platonic shipping ig? i’m a mess forgive me

warnings: uhh ghosts implications, there’s a cancer mention, self deprecation, i think that’s it?? if there’s something else let me know!!

tags: @sassy-in-glasses @rose-gold-roman @justanotherpurplebutterfly @echomist13

THIS IS FOR @kaana-the-ace-witch idk who else to tag for the secret santa thing but UR THE MOST IMPORTANT GOTTA MAKE SURE U SEE THIS

Logan wasn’t a forgetful person. He kept a very specific itinerary, thank you very much, and it was color coded (no, it wasn’t a bullet journal, Roman) for easy reading. Really, nothing could go wrong, if he followed the schedule.

But when Virgil said, “Oh, hey, we’re going over to Pat and Ro’s room for Christmas tomorrow morning, Pat said they’re putting together a huge breakfast,” at eleven thirty pm on December twenty-fourth, Logan felt like a bucket of ice water dumped down his back and trickled through his veins.

“O-oh, alright,” Logan said, like his world hadn’t just fallen apart at the seams.

“You good?” Virgil asked, eyes flicking from the TV displaying Uncharted IV to Logan’s face.

“Peachy,” Logan said. He abruptly stood. “I’m going to turn in. Goodnight.”

“Um, okay, Logan–” Virgil paused the game to face him fully. “Are you sure you’re okay–”

Virgil blinked at the empty room, eyes narrowing. Had he just seen the front door closing, or was that just his imagination?

The sounds from the television drew him back to the screen and Virgil settled back down. If something horrible was going on, Logan would give him at least some sort of warning. Maybe he just forgot sleep existed, and being reminded of the next day’s activities sparked that well-known responsibility.

Virgil shrugged, ate some chips, and unpaused the game.

Logan, meanwhile, was struggling to suppress the growing panic in his chest. Stupid, stupid, stupid, Logan chastised himself, rubbing his gloves together, breaths making little puffs of white in the cold air. What would still be open? Walmart? Probably? For those as irresponsible and foolish as he?

Logan couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe himself. How could he forget – no, how could he neglect to receive any form of gift for the gift-giving season? Hell, he gave Virgil a Hanukkah gift on the first and last day, with Patton and Roman filling the days in between.

Not a single gift. Not for Roman, not for Virgil, and most importantly, not for Patton.

Undoubtedly Patton had gotten him the best, most thoughtful gift he could think of. What if he spent hours and hours focusing on his gift, only to be presented with a last-minute dump of a present? Logan could hardly live with himself. He simply couldn’t believe...

Walmart wouldn’t have a decent gift. It would be picked clean. Could he buy something of worth before tomorrow?

Maybe he had something at his parents house? But that was three hours away, he would get little to no sleep on a gamble. He couldn’t call Roman, he would tell Patton – they lived together, after all – and if he didn’t intentionally tell him, Patton would figure it out – he was much smarter than he let on. Plus, Roman would just have to be overly dramatic – “I can’t believe you forgot to gift the most wonderful human being, me, with a present! The audacity!”

He couldn’t tell Virgil, Virgil was... Virgil. Virgil didn’t need any added stress in his life, he’d finally relaxed, and Logan knew how empathetic Virgil was. Virgil would definitely get himself all wrapped up in Logan’s issues and ramp up his own stress in the process. Logan couldn’t – wouldn’t – do that to him.

And obviously Logan couldn’t tell Patton. Never. Logan was well aware of his shortcomings as a friend, and expressing love was definitely fell into the ��needs work” category. Patton... Patton was the best friend anyone could ever have, and Logan couldn’t stomach presenting his failures to Patton, let alone deal with his “it’s okay, Logan. No, really, don’t worry about it!” Mostly because Logan wanted to be a good friend, he wanted to be the best friend anyone could ever have but it was so hard, none of it came naturally to him.

Logan walked through the park to reach downtown, but paused when a figure slide across the pond, the metal of their skates glinting in the moonlight. They slid over to the edge of the pond, mere feet from where Logan had paused.

“Whatcha doing out this late on Christmas Eve?” they asked, their voice gravely but soothing.

“Finding a gift,” Logan said, the words falling unbidden from his lips. He shoved his hands further into his pockets, fighting the urge to defend himself with I swear I love them, I’m just foolish, please don’t think I’m some deadbeat...

“Ah. Forget?” they said, eyes shining with the reflection of the snow. Logan supposed their eyes must be a lighter color, maybe blue or green. Wrinkles lined their cheeks, or what Logan could see of them. “Or did someone finally convince you?”

Logan scrunched up his nose. “I forgot. I have no idea what to get them.”

“More than one person?” they asked.

“Yeah,” Logan released a puff of air, frustrated. “I can’t think of anything for any of them. It’s too late.”

“It’s never too late,” they said. Their skates touched the snow and they walked, gait smooth despite the blades on their feet, and approached a bench.

“What about you?” Logan asked. “What are you doing out so late?”

“It was a tradition of my daughter and mine to ice skate on the Eve,” they said, lowing themselves onto the bench with an oof. They patted the spot next to them. “Humor an old man for a few minutes?”

Logan nodded once, twice, and then delicately sat next to him. The man sighed. “She was gorgeous, my daughter. Hair was always chopped short, the sharpest eyes you’d ever seen.”

“What happened to her?” Logan asked.

“Cancer,” the old man said, smiling softly. “Hated wearing wigs, so she never did.”

There was a beat of silence, and Logan had no idea what to say. I’m sorry for your loss?

“What about your gifts?” the man asked. “Who did you forget?”

“My best friends,” Logan said, that twinge of frustration twisting in his gut. “All three of them.”

“Tell me about them,” the man said. “While I rest my old feet.”

“Okay,” Logan said, taking his hands out of his pockets to rub them together. “Um, one of them is as quiet as the night, and he’s insanely clever while being obscenely obtuse at the same time. He loves to write... and another is loud, loud as the sun and just as bright, and he doesn’t like to be called a nerd, but...” Logan’s lip twisted. “And then there’s... well. He’s like... he’s... inexplicable. He’s smart, so smart, but in every way I’m not. He could make friends with just about anyone, and he cares, so much, about everything.”

“Ah,” the man said softly. “They sound wonderful.”

“They are,” Logan said, the words landing woeful instead of wistful. “And I can never live up to that. I can never give the best gift...”

“Well, I might have a little something for the first friend of yours,” the old man said, fishing through his pocket. He pulled out a small colored pencil set, with five colors – red, yellow, blue, black, and white. “Of course, it doesn’t seem like much at first glance.”

“Oh, I... I can’t take this,” Logan said. “Um, it’s yours, and it looks... important.”

“Oh, everything has its own importance,” the man said.

“Also...” Logan frowned at his hands, not wanting to burst the man’s bubble. “I think Roman is getting him prismacolors for Christmas. It would pale in comparison.”

“Oh, but this isn’t any regular old pencil set,” the man said. “It’s magic.”

Logan snorted softly, holding the pencil set carefully. The cardboard was worn and didn’t seem to have any brand logo on it. They were obviously used but still had a good amount of lead left, and Logan couldn’t figure out why he loved them so much.

“Magic, hm?” Logan turned the pencil set over in his hand. “What’s so magic about–”

Logan blinked at thin air, lips parted. He tentatively reached out and touched the wood, furrowing his eyebrows and frowning.

Where...

He looked back at the pencil set in his hand and pocketed it, standing slowly. The world felt off-kilter, like he’d just woken up, and a street light flickered.

“Okay,” Logan murmured to himself. “Maybe you just blacked out and missed the goodbyes. That’s fine. That’s normal.”

He started walking down the path, fingers running over the small, angular box. Weird...

He almost tripped on something, catching himself just before hitting the hard concrete.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry!” a tinny voice cried out, a small girl appearing in his line of sight and picking up a wooden ball. She cradled it to her chest, curly brown hair framing her face.

“Uh, hello,” Logan said, rigid. He did not know how to handle kids. “Um, what’s your name?”

“My name?” the girl cocked her head. “What are you doing out so late?”

Winded, Logan took a breath. “What are you doing out so late?”

“Waiting for my Gran,” she said. “She’ll be here soon.”

“Okay,” Logan said uncertainly.

“She really loves me,” the girl continued. “I love her, too, but sometimes I feel like I’m invisible. Do you feel invisible sometimes? I do. It’s her birthday next week and I don’t know what to get her. What do you get your friends for their birthdays?”

“I... don’t know,” Logan said. “I’m trying to find Christmas gifts for them right now.”

“Right now?” the girl cocked her head to the side. “Okay. Can you find them?”

Logan shook his head. “Not very well.”

“What are they like?” the girl asked, expression open and vibrant.

“Um.” Logan cleared his throat, feeling an odd sense of deja vu. “One cares so much about everything but pretends he cares about nothing, another is passionate and vigorous, and he does everything all or nothing. The last is... he’s... he’s like a blanket, or the smell of baking cookies, and he’s so talented at so many things I don’t think I can live up, sometimes...”

Logan’s throat closed and he settled his gaze on the ground. Why... how... where did all that come from?

“Oh!” she said, delighted. “I have something for your second friend!”

“What?” Logan said, barely managing to get the word out before she shoved the ball into his hands. Smooth, round, with chipped red paint... it didn’t look like much.

“I can’t take this,” Logan protested. “This is yours!”

“But it’s magic,” she said sagely, voice whisper-quiet, lips stretched into a secretive grin. “Touch it, and all your wildest dreams come true!” She wiggled her fingers, making small explosion noises with her mouth.

“Um,” Logan twisted the ball in his hands. “Like a magic eight ball?”

“A magic eight ball?” she repeated. “What’s a magic – oh!” her eyes widened comically, gaze darting around her body. “Oh, oh!”

“What’s wrong?” Logan looked around him, searching for danger. “What’s...”

Logan froze. “Where’d...” he said into empty air, cold and sharp. “But...” he looked at the wooden ball, feeling the grooves and chips against his fingertips.

He pocketed the ball and slowly got to his feet, stretching his fingers and rolling his wrists. Everything seemed... off. Off in an indescribable way.

Okay, he told himself. Get to walmart, find something for your friends. Or... he ran his fingers over the pencil set, over the wooden sphere. For Patton...?

Logan shoved his hands deep into his pockets and continued on, keeping his gaze on the ground so he didn’t see any ice skating men or little girls with wooden toys. He had to keep staring at the path, get to walmart, maybe buy and obscene amount of candy to cover up his complete and utter incompetence.

“Hey!”

Logan flinched. He didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to see someone else, didn’t want to –

“Hey!” a rough hand pushed at his shoulder and he almost fell over, slipping on ice only for the same hand to catch his arm, whirl him around and spin him upright again.

Logan heaved a few breaths, eyes wide as he stared into golden brown eyes.

“What’s a guy gotta do to get someone’s attention, huh?” he said. He released his hold on Logan, crossing his arms and scrunching up his nose. He appeared the same age as Logan, maybe even younger, but...

“You’re in college, right?” he said, voice sharp and snarky.

“Yeah,” Logan said. “You?”

The guy shrugged. “Never made it out of highschool.”

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “What...?”

He glanced at him, and unreadable expression in his face. “Why’re you out here, man? You look like you got friends. It’s like, midnight.”

“I forgot to get them gifts, so,” Logan shrugged. “I’m getting them some.”

“Wow,” he laughed, raucous and loud. “That’s awesome. Great. Fantastic. You sound like the most wonderful friend of all.”

“Yeah, I know,” Logan said. “I gotta get to it, so...”

“Wait,” he said, reaching out but drawing back at the last moment, fingers curling in. “I... kinda know what that’s like.” He scuffed at the ground. “Not knowing what to get friends, I mean. Or...” his face twisted. “Boyfriends.”

“Boyfriends?” Logan said, blinking.

“Hold onto them,” the boy said, glancing at him and trapping him in his gaze, eyes blazing like fire. “Hold onto your friends because one day you’ll disappear.”

“You mean they’ll disappear?” Logan said, leaning back.

“Y... yeah, of course,” he said, pulling away and leaning against a tree. “Sure.”

“Um, I’ll be...”

“Wait, just...” he sighed, looking far more dejected than any teenager had business being. “Tell me about them? I miss having friends.”

“Okay, well...” Logan almost denied his request but after seeing his downcast gaze, his frustrated scuffing, he relented. “One is... one is soft and sharp at the same time, one is angry and freakishly patient, and the last is... he’s, just, he’s clever and thoughtful, and he tries so so hard to help other people but he forgets to care for himself, too, and we forget to care for him sometimes...” Logan snapped his mouth shut. Why oh why did he always start to ramble about them?

The boy’s mouth flickered into a smile before he schooled it back into a scowl. “Yeah, okay. I think I got something for the last one.”

“What are you talking about?” Logan asked, reaching into his pockets in confusion. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“It never matters if you want anything, does it?” the boy said. “Not now, anyway. This is about them.”

“I... yeah,” Logan said. “But...”

“Okay, let’s just get this over with,” he sighed and reached into his sweatshirt pocket, pulling out a gilded bracelet. “This... yeah, whatever, you’ve heard it all, yadda yadda.”

“What?” Logan said, feeling winded.

The boy shoved the bracelet in his hands. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“I’m not, I’m just...” Logan looked down at the bracelet, a golden chain with small leaves hanging off like a mini flower crown. With... leaves instead of flowers. So not really a flower crown more of a leaf crown and Logan should really, really stop thinking.

“Thanks,” Logan said, looking up. He took a step back at the complete emptiness that greeted him, but he wasn’t completely surprised, either. Somehow he knew the teenage boy would disappear, just like the old man and the little girl.

“Thanks,” Logan said again, softer. He gently placed the bracelet with his other three gifts and turned around. Undoubtedly they would be disappointed with his gifts and would have that “thanks...” tone, of subtle disappointment, but Logan couldn’t bring himself to take a trip to some capitalist department store to grab some cheap gimmick.

They would be disappointed, but at least they wouldn’t be disappointed in a cheap car charger.

He trudged home, watching his step. He heard the giggle of a girl but saw nothing when he turned, and he noticed a figure moving across the pond but when he raced through the path to the edge there was nobody there. A scoff followed him home, and Logan carefully opened the door to his dorm, peaking to see if Virgil was still awake.

Bright lights spilled across the carpet, the intro screen to Uncharted IV dancing across Virgil’s face. Virgil, however, was dead asleep, mouth hanging open and light snores falling from his mouth.

Reaching down, Logan carefully picked him up and carried him to his room, gently setting him down on the mattress and pulling the comforter. Come morning, Logan would have to drag him out of bed, and Virgil would hang off of him until they got to Roman and Patton’s room, where he would promptly hang off of Roman for the better part of the morning.

But until then... Logan had some gifts to wrap.

—

“Okay, I know I sounded like, hella ungrateful when I opened those pencils, but they’re magical or some shit, I swear to god,” Virgil said the moment Logan opened the door.

Logan froze, halfway through taking off his coat and shoes. “Oh?”

“Yeah, like,” Virgil waved around the black pencil emphatically. “I always get the color I’m trying to blend! And I used to hate coloring with colored pencil because it’s not like acrylic paints where you can test the color before blending so I always hated using colored pencils but these work like god herself crafted them.”

“Um, I’m glad,” Logan said, a grin twitching onto his lips. “I’m... I’m really glad.”

“Yes, bless these freakish colored pencils,” Virgil said reverently. “Also, Roman called me, he’s looking for you.”

“Why didn’t he just call me?” Logan asked. Virgil gave him a look. “Right, okay, he didn’t just call about me. Thanks.”

“Sure,” Virgil said, chewing on the back of the red pencil.

Logan finagled his phone out of his pocket, dropping some books on the counter in the process, and called Roman. He picked up on the third ring.

“Logan, my favorite person in the entirety of the world!” Roman greeted him.

“What do you want?” Logan asked flatly, holding the phone up with his ear and flipping open his chemistry book.

“You wound me,” Roman declared. “Insinuating I only call when I need something, that’s cruel.”

“Mmhmm,” Logan said.

“I just... wanted to let you know, or, I mean,” Roman’s voice lost the exuberance and settled into something softer. “Thanks for that wooden ball thing. Like, I thought it was the lamest thing at first, because, a wooden ball, really? But every time I’m nervous for an audition, or I don’t think I’m going to pass a test, I just... wish on it, like you told me to, and it’s like all my hard work pays off. It’s weird and there’s probably no correlation but it happens too often to be normal so I thought I’d just... thank you.”

“Oh,” Logan said. His phone almost slipped from his shoulder but he caught it before it fell too far. “Um, that’s... that’s crazy. I mean–”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Roman said, voice slipping into ramble mode. “I mean, it’s crazy, right? It shouldn’t matter, because it’s a wooden sphere, like one I could buy at Hobby Lobby, and the paint is chipped in lots of places like my mom painted it when she was seven or something, and–”

“Roman,” Logan said.

“But it’s really very great,” Roman said softly. “Thank you. And sorry for being a jerk on Christmas.”

“You weren’t a jerk, Roman,” Logan said. “Trust me. I know when you’re being a jerk.”

“Okay,” Roman said, uncertainly.

“And, you’re welcome, I’m glad it’s working so well,” Logan said, flashing back to the little girl. Your wildest dreams will come true indeed.

“Oh, and Patton’s at Crimson Valley, you should go say hi,” Roman said. “He mentioned thanking you for his gift, too, but wanted to do it in person. Said it’s more authentic?”

“O-oh, okay,” Logan said. He sat still for a few solid moments. “I mean, I was going to start studying.”

“Dude, we don’t have school, what are you doing,” Roman said, words edged with disbelief.

“I’m behind on some stuff,” Logan said, running his hands through his hair. “And I don’t want to fall behind.”

“Do you want Patton to be alone at the cafe?” Roman asked, and they both knew Logan’s answer before Logan opened his mouth.

“Of course not,” Logan said. “I’ll be there in ten.”

“Yayy!!” Roman said. “I mean, I’m not going to be there, but Patton’ll be happy.”

“I’m sure,” Logan said, sighing. “Okay, talk to you later.”

“Bye!” Roman cheered. For what, Logan couldn’t say.

The phone clicked underneath his ear and Logan resigned himself.

“I’m going out,” Logan said.

“Again?” Virgil asked.

“Yup, Patton’s alone at a cafe,” Logan said. “Roman enlisted me to keep him company.”

“Sounds like Roman,” Virgil said. “Good luck.”

“Good luck?” Logan repeated. “I’m not going into war.”

Virgil turned towards him, shifting his whole body so he could give Logan another look.

Logan rolled his eyes, shrugging his coat on. “Fair point.”

“See ya.”

“Bye.”

Logan walked steadily to the cafe, and braced himself the moment he opened the door. When he wasn’t instantly barraged by an armful of Patton, he opened his eyes.

Patton, tucked into a corner of the cafe, was quiet.

Logan walked up to him and slid into the seat opposite him. “Hey.”

“Oh, hey!” Patton said, expression instantly shifting from pensive to happy. “How are you? I wasn’t expecting you here!”

“Roman told me to come,” Logan said, and then instantly regretted it. “Um. He said something about my christmas present...?”

“Oh, this!” Patton said, lifting up his wrist to display the glittering bracelet. “I... the weirdest thing happens when I touch it. I’m just overwhelmed with this... this affection and wonder for everything, especially my friends.” Patton stared him dead in the eye. “Especially for you.”

Heat rushed to his cheeks and Logan stared pointedly at the table.

“And it’s so magical, and wonderful, that I thought I’d let you know,” Patton said, smile gentle and soft.

Logan glanced up at him, ears hot, and noted the pink dusting on Patton’s cheeks.

“Um, you’re, you’re welcome,” Logan said, coughing.

“It’s so strange,” Patton said. “All of your gifts seem so simple, but they have such a large impact.” He held the bracelet up to the light and admired the way the gold glittered in the sun. “Where did you find them?”

Logan smiled. From an old man with nostalgia, a little girl with wishes, and a teenager with hopes.

“I found them on Christmas Eve,” Logan said instead, and when Patton turned to look at him, the light shone through the window and ignited the deep browns and golds of his irises.

Something crashed, and they looked to the left. A little girl frowned at a shattered cup but laughed when someone who looked like her grandfather gave her candy and promised her another cup. A teenager rocked on his chair, pressing his feet against the table and scowling.

Patton blinked at them and giggled before turning back to Logan.

“I’m glad you love it,” Logan murmured, touching the gold of the bracelet lightly.

Patton smiled, cheeks red, and Logan grinned right back.

#sanders secret santa 2k18 #logan sanders #logan centric #sanders sides fic #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #brabbles #wow i cranked this out in one day im proud?? between all the family things??? hell yeah #sfhkdshf im sorry i forgottt but its lowkey on time!!

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tinkslittlebelle · 5 years ago

Text

Suicide cookies

Summary: Virgil had both good days and bad days. The balance between the was relatively even. Though the bad days were just slightly more often. On those bad days, Virgil baked. And he baked a lot. He calls them his suicide cookies, but the others don't know. And he wants to keep them that way

Warnings: mentions of Deceit, mentions of Remus, suicidal thoughts, depression, sadness, crying

Genre: angst and fluff

Words: 2,300!

Notes: this is something I do my self. When ever I feel depressed or suicidal and I go in to my kitchen and bake! It gets my mind or things. I will also sew and make different crafts bit I just get like Virgil would bake

-----

Most people would think that Patton is the baker, but they would be wrong. His baked goods are alright but not the best. They were usually a little burned and frankly he didn't really enjoy it. The only time he enjoyed baking was when he baked with Virgil. And Virgil loved to bake. He would bake anything. From Coolio to cupcakes, from scones to a four layer cake. Sometimes more than one. What ever he was feeling at the moment he made it.

But what the others didn't know is that when Virgil baked, it means his was having a rough day. On those days he usually has unpleasant thought about self harm or ending his life. When these thoughts come up, instead of acting upon them, he'd head to the kitchen and started baking. And he'd bake a lot.

The others just assumed he really likes to bake or was really bored and had nothing better to do. But they weren't complaining. They LOVED his baking. It was the best they ever had. And he doesn't is all without a cookbook.

It wasn't until late one night that Roman actually figured out why he baked so much.

Roman had woken up late one night to sound in the kitchen. Figured he'd be the brave prince he is and fight off the intruder. Got out of bed, stealthily walked down the stairs, stop right outside the kitchen, sword ready and listening for the threat. But what he heard surprised him. It wasn't a monster or a threat or even a dark side that broke in. He really hope it wasn't his brother digging through their trash again, but instead it was the sound of someone sobbing. He lowered his sword and stuck his head slightly in to the kitchen, trying his best to be quiet. What he was made his stomach drop. It was Virgil sitting on the floor with his good up. Tears fresh on his face and mumbling to himself. Roman couldn't heard much but what he did left him in tears.

"Just do it already"

"They don't love you"

"It would be better if you were dead"

Roman almost ran in there to comfort the crying sides, bit before he could, the kitchen timer went off and Virgil stood up. And taking the fresh cookies out of the oven. He chuckled darkly to himself

" Well I can't die now, who else will eat these cookies" he ate a few of the cookies before speaking again "well I guess Patton would eat them and the others but I don't think they would enjoy them as much if they found out I killed myself after I made them. And I want to enjoy them" With a sigh he ate a few more and shoving some in his pockets before putting the rest away.

At the sight of Virgil cleaning up, Roman quickly sink out. Once he got back to his room, he went straight to his desk and started to work on ways to make him feel better.

The next morning, Virgil walked in to the kitchen and stopped at the sight. All of his favorite breakfast foods where sitting beautifully displayed and purple and black balloons. With Roman standing proudly in the kitchen.

"Surprise!!" Virgil just blinked back at him.

"What's going on?"

"It appreciate your favorite emo day!!" Virgil's face went red

"Psh That not a real holiday"

"Oh yes it is! Here I'll prove it" Roman walk over to Virgil before exiting the kitchen and shouting up the stairs "PATTON ITS APPROPRIATE YOUR FAVORITE EMO DAY!!" Virgil didn't even have time to react before he heard a door slam open and Patton practically leapt off the stairs and in to Virgil's arms, engulfed him into a massive bear hug.

"HAPPY APPRECIATE YOUR FAVORITE EMO DAY!!!!!"

"Jeez Pat calm down!"

"I'm sorry kiddo, I didn't know that was today!! If I had known I would have gotten you a gift" Patton giggled

"It's all right Pat. I didn't even know it was today either." He chuckled and ran his hand through his hair.

"Well I be sure to remember for next year. I'll go get Logan and we can do whatever Roman has planned for us to do today" and with that he left to go get Logan.

"Well my dark and Stormy Knight. I have a few of your favorite activities for us together and to end the day with a movie, your choice. I just wanted to you that you know that we love you and you are needed" Virgil's face got even redder.

"T-thanks Princey" Virgil tried to hide his redning face as Roman lead him over to the couch while they waited for Logan.

Over the next few days Roman made sure that Virgil felt loved and appreciated, whether is is something grand or small. The others seemed to catch on and started doing small things as well. And Virgil loved and and over all put him in a better mood.

But all good things must come to an end.

After a week of the love and care had gone down, he still felt loved but sometimes the world feels like it against you.

He woke up in his bed one afternoon and he was instantly filled with dread. His body felt weak, the small amount of light peeking through the window hurt his eyes. The sound of his alarm clock gave him a massive migraine. And these thoughts have been louder then they have been on a long time. Repeating the same thoughts that he dreads. The voices of his family spitting insults towards him. Hearing them float around in his mind and in the shadows of his bedroom.

"Everything you say can be proven to be falsehood but logic. Your services aren't warranted and not needed"

" All you do is hurt Thomas. And you hurt everyone else. You are just the worst kind or person"

*You suck the creativity, the fun, the passion out of everything. No one wants you around so just do us all a favor and kill your self already."

"We just have you around to be nice"

"No one likes you"

"You're not apart of the group"

"Go away"

" Your pathetic"

"Worthless"

"Freak"

As the more thoughts that appeared, the more distressed he became. He thought quickly to his favorite way of coping to get his mind off these pesky thoughts and got out of bed to head to the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen, he noticed that Roman was sitting at the table with two cups of coffee. Roman nudged the glass towards Virgil as of to tell him it was his. Virgil nodded in thank but did nothing else. Even though he knows that the thoughts on his were just cognitive distortions, they still felt real and looking at Roman and imagining his say those awful things about him more than he thought possible.

Sipping his coffee and started to get the ingredients, he was just going to make just a simple chocolate chip cookies to start and then work his way up. He grabbed the flour, sugars, baking soda, vanilla, and the salt. then he walked over to Patton's special hiding place to get the chocolate chip. One he has all of the dry ingredients all out and prepped, he started with to get the wet ingredients. He first got 2 teaspoons of hot water and then walked over to the fridge to get the final three ingredients. He grabbed the eggs and the butter and place them on to the counter. When he looked back at the spot where the milk should be and saw it was empty. With a sullen smile he closed the fridge. Before he started to put the ingredients away, he chuckled darkly to himself

"We are all out of milk. Well I guess I'll die". Before he could take any steps closer to the ingredients, he heard Roman, who he forgot was in the kitchen, spit out his drink and start coughing. His mind instantly off the suicide cookies and on to his friends choking

"Oh okay god, Roman! Are you ok?" Roman put his hand on Virgil as if to keep him there. One he finally stopped dying, he looked up at Virgil, regained his princely composer before speaking in that dramatic what he always does

" Now that will not work at all!" He lead Virgil to the living "let's go get more milk from Thomas, my favorite fiend!" He pulled Virgil to sink out with him but when he rose up, he allowed Virgil to appear like he usually does, probably because he remembered how bad rising up made him feel last time.

Thomas as already on the living room and was startled for a second on the random appearances bit calmed down the second he realized who it was.

"Hey guy! What's up?"

"Virgil here was going to bake but we are all out of milk. So we were wondering if we can borrow yours?"

"Oh sure. But why do you use actual ingredients if you're just in my head? Can't you conger it up for yourself"

"Well of course I can conger it myself but the real thing is always better! And Virgil always makes the best treats!"

"Is that true Verge? Well you'll have to let me try some sometime!" Virgil blush and shuffled his feet

"Um sure. I'll definitely let you have some." Roman sunk back out and Virgil followed. Once the were both back on the mindscape, Roman handed Virgil a black a purple apron, and he had on a red and white one with gold trim.

"Well should we start baking?" He walked back into the kitchen with the milk and set it on the counter and smiled back at Virgil. All Virgil could do is stair

"Why did you do that?"

"Why did you do what"

"You made my coffee, you took me to get milk from Thomas and you summoned special aprons for us."

"I don't like seeing you unhappy" Roman took a step closer to Virgil and lowered his voice "I know why you bake constantly" at that Virgil tried to get away from Roman. But Romans grip didn't falter.and instead he pulled him into a hug "it's okay! We all love you. We understand that some days are worse than others. If you ever and I mean EVER need someone to talk to, you can come to me anytime." He let go of the hug and wiped away a few years tears Virgil didn't know had fallen and then wiped his own. "After all, I pretty great at listening to stories" virgil chuckled at the last part.

"I - thank Roman. For everything"

"Any time my emo knightmare. Now these cookies aren't going to bake them selves!!" The two of them started to bake the cookies and the thoughts from earlier had already gone to past. Talking to Roman and learning that he has his support really helped with them. He knew he could also talk to the others and o was comforting to know that he is actually loved and it's not just to be nice

After they finished baking the cookies, they shared with the others and Thomas. While Thomas loved them and said they were the best cookies ever. The others said that Virgil cookies are always the best but these blew all the others out of the water, with the help of Roman.

The next day, Roman woke up later then usual. He looked over at his alarm clock to check the time but the time was wrong. Strange, maybe the power had turned off in the middle of the night. Shrugging it off and got ready before heading down stairs to the kitchen.

Once he made his way down stairs, he took one glance in the kitchen and stopped. There was red and gold balloons, a large fancy 3 tier cake was Royal red with gold trim with little crown decals and glitter. Roman eye the class with such awe. Virgil has never baked a cake this fancy, mostly little ones for birthdays. He walked in the kitchen to see Virgil covered head to toe in flour and icing and was washing dishes.

"Virgil? What is this all for?" Virgil jumped when he heard Roman speak. When Virgil turned around and looked at Roman, Roman could see that he mostly likely hasn't slept all know, but he didn't looked stressed- he actually looked happy.

"Roman ah well- shit- I didn't expect you to wake up yet but I ah" Virgil stumbled over his works before sighing. "I was up all night and u just wanted to thank you-"

" Oh Verge you didn't have to- "

"Shh I'm not finished!" Virgil stopped Roman " it's just, you knew and you were trying to help me without me getting upset. And you did a good job of that. You did your best to help me. You got milk from Thomas for me, the nice matching aprons. And you wanted to bake cookies with me. You said they you'll be there when ever I need it." Virgil walked over to the kitchen table and grabbed some and unfolded it, before turning around. What he had was a banner the he probably was going to hang it up. He showed it to Roman and he gasped

"Well, happy appreciate your favorite princy day!"

#enjoy my shitty fic!#its probably fine #im just not the best author #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #thomas sanders

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heck-im-lost · 6 years ago

Text

A beautiful Christmas

Genre: just pure fluff

Pairings: romantic logince, platonic LAMP

Word Count: 1859

Warnings: slight self doubt about presents being good enough but nothing serious, cursing

Notes: this is for the @darknightvirgil 's Christmas exchange: I had @adultmorelikeadolt so enjoy my friend!!!

also, how do you title haha. this was a direct stream of consciousness so I have no clue how good/bad this actually is because it just seemed so good in my head...

and on AO3:

Taglist: @creativity-killed-thekitten

Logan stared blankly at his computer screen. He knew that he had been working too hard for too long without a break, but the next video still wasn't close to being ready and he couldn't let the fans down again. They had had to wait so long for the last video and he could not let it happen once more. He wanted to go down and see them all, but he just had so much left to do.

Roman had repeatedly told him to take care of himself more. And Logan knew that he was letting his boyfriend down, and pushing him away, but he had to get this finished goddamn it.

There was a knock at the door.

"Uh, yes. Come in."

Roman burst dramatically into the room.

"Hello, my one true love! I have come to drag you out of this dungeon! You are under arrest for overworking yourself and not seeing your boyfriend! We're going Christmas shopping, specs! Get yourself presentable and then get yourself outta here!"

"Uh, well Roman, I should really finish this off before going out anywhere. It's not that I don’t want to be with you, not at all my dearest. But this is important and there will be time for trivialities after I have got this done. I promise."

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice on this one, Specs! Christmas is in only a few days and then it will be over, the fans can wait on this one. And anyway, I want to spend Christmas with you, not have you in here by yourself. Take a break, Nerd!"

"But- I-" Logan looked down at his work and sighed. "Alright then. I was rather missing you anyhow."

Roman held out his hand and Logan took it, allowing himself to be pulled up into Roman's arms.

"I love you, gorgeous." He whispered into Logan's ear, rubbing his boyfriend's back gently.

"I love you too. I'm sorry-"

"It's okay, let’s go."

Roman had constructed a shopping mall in the mindscape many Christmases ago to buy gifts, at first it was undeveloped; the shop keepers has empty faces and the shops felt floaty, like in an old memory that you couldn't quite remember if it was real or a dream. But as Thomas grew older Roman had more references to go from and was more accomplished at imagining things into existence. An amalgamation of the best bits of every mall Thomas had ever been to, the mall was now so well built that it felt as real to the sides as standing in Thomas's own living room. And every year at Christmas he would put Christmas decorations everywhere, and they would go Christmas shopping together.

Roman excitedly led Logan to the entrance to the mall, where Patton and Virgil were eagerly waiting. Well, maybe it was just Patton who was looking eager, but this was the first time Virgil had come along himself, without thinking that he was unwanted and having to be persuaded to come, so it would do.

"Okay kiddos! We'll split up now, and then all meet in the cafe again in a couple of hours, does that sound okay?" Patton was jumping up and down with excitement. "Oh, I just love getting people gifts! I'm super duperly looking forward to this!!!!!!!!!!"

"Okay, well I'll go with Roman, and you and Logan can go around together. Let's go." Virgil looked expectantly at Roman, who nodded slightly.

"Logan!!! Let's go kiddo! See you all later!!!"

Logan smiled one last time at his boyfriend before he was whisked away by Patton.

"Why did you want to come with me, Charlie Frown?" Roman may have been insulting him, but the kind smile on his face let the anxious side know that there were no hard feelings.

"Welp I didn't get much sleep last night and I knew that if I went with Logan he'd just lecture on about healthy sleep schedules and healthy caffeine intakes and it would just be rubbish. And you aren't that bad." Virgil gave a quick smirk at Roman. "Come on, I want to go get Patton some stuffed toys."

"Oh God Patton, what am I going to get him? He has been so incredible to me and none of this seems good enough! I can't just get him a lacklustre gift that he will look at once and then put on a shelf and forget about! I need to get him something that will show how much he means to me! But-" Logan frantically paced up and down, his speed almost matching that of his racing thoughts.

"Calm down, it's okay kiddo! Everything is okay! You don't have to get him the perfect gift, there might not be anything that shows just how much you love him, as love is so much more than things you can buy. It doesn't matter though, just get him something that shows how much you care about him. Something that shows you were thinking of him. That’s all."

"I suppose it would be stupid to attempt to convey such an abstract, intense feeling as love in simple material items. I will just get him something that I know he will like. Come on Patton! I have an idea."

“Oh, Virgil what am I going to do what am I going to get him? I love him so much but this time it feels like no gift, nothing I could do would show him how much I care about him. I am one for romantic gestures, you know me, but nothing I could get him would be enough for what he deserves! I have to get him something, but- “

"Dude it's okay! That guy is so in love with you you could get him one shoe for Christmas and it would become his favourite thing and would go on his special things from Roman shelf. We both know he has one. You don't have to stress out about this - it's my job to stress out about things. Just get him something that shows that you are thinking about him - all he really needs for Christmas is you."

"Virgil?"

"Yeah?"

"Virgil the emo who lives in an angst cave where it is always Halloween?"

Virgil sighed.

"Yeah?"

"Did you just reference Mariah Carey's 'All I Want For Christmas Is You'?"

"I hate to say I did. But I knew I needed something dumb and Christmassy to get to you. And anyway, I've got all of my gifts for the others, let's finish up getting yours before we have to meet up with the others, okay?"

"Okay, my dark and stormy knight. And thanks, I've just had the best idea of what to get my special Nerd!"

As he and Patton made their way into the cafe, Logan hoped that the ridiculous shape of the long, narrow box he was carrying wouldn't give away what it was. But when he saw Roman and Virgil, already sitting at the table next to their curious pile of bags and boxes of equally strange sizes, his worries left him. His boyfriend looked amazing. And it looked like Virgil was somehow already on his third cup of coffee.

"Are we late?" Roman spotted Logan looking nervously at Virgil’s coffee mugs

"No Virgil just decided to order three cups at once to avoid having to queue again. Anyway, how did it go, my beloved? Was it worth coming out?"

"OF THE CLOSET!" Patton burst out, laughing as he sat down next to Virgil.

"It went very well, Roman, my love. I have got everything I needed, and- well- I am glad to be back here with you." Logan felt himself blush and smiled, thinking of spending time with Roman: his work forgotten.

"I am too, my shining star."

It was Christmas day and Patton had woken them all up at exactly the time he was allowed to. (After one year when Patton had woken them all up at 4:30 in the morning because he was awake and excited and wanted to open his presents as soon as possible, they had enforced a strict "no waking people up before 8:30 on Christmas day" policy.)

Patton handed Virgil a cup of coffee, Logan a cup of tea, Roman a cup of peppermint tea, and excitedly led them all to the living room, where the presents were piled under the tree.

"IT'S CHRISTMAS!!!!!"

"Yes Patton, and we are very tired so please don't yell in my ear." Logan took a long sip of his tea, and looked across at Patton who was bouncing up and down like a child. "Right then Patton do you want to go first?"

Patton excitedly grabbed a package - it was from Roman. He hurriedly tore at the paper, until out came a Winnie the pooh plushie.

"Oh my God Roman I love it! Aaaaaagh thank you!!!!!" Patton was positively bouncing.

"Squeeze the paw Patton."

The Winnie the pooh song started playing.

"Aaaaaaaagh!!!!!!!! It's perfect!!!!!!!"

And they continued like that, taking it in turns to open presents until there were just two left under the tree.

"Logan, for you, my precious."

"Way to sound like Gollum" Virgil muttered, and Roman shot a glare in return.

Logan slowly unwrapped the present, the last and biggest present from his boyfriend. He methodically cut each piece of tape, to reveal-

"A telescope! Wow Roman- I- Thank you so much I have always wanted to look at the stars outside my window properly."

"I just imagined you looking through the telescope and explaining to me the constellations. It would be so romantic and I know you would have lots to tell as you always wanted Thomas to be an astronomer."

"I would love that Roman! Now, here you go, and be careful with it." He handed Roman the long package.

"I have been so curious about what this could be!!" He started to unwrap the meticulously wrapped present.

"It could be a pogo stick." Virgil remarked.

"Or a tube of jelly beans. You know how you can get the long tubes and they are full of jelly beans and they-"

"We know them, Patton.” Virgil smiled fondly at Patton. “It could be a long thin hat."

"It could be a broomstick. I don’t know why Logan would get him a broomstick but it could be."

Roman finally rolled the box out of the wrapping paper. He gasped.

"I thought you said it was too dangerous!"

"Well I know how much you enjoyed it so..."

"What is it? What is it?" Patton leant over to get a closer look.

"My wonderful, amazing, perfect boyfriend who I love has gotten me a new KATANA!!!"

"And this one is weighted so it is actually statistically easier to use and will result in less chance of you getting injured, whilst being more effective in battle. I made sure to do quite a lot of research before buying to ensure I got the right one, so I hope it is satisfactory."

Roman grinned.

"It is more than satisfactory, Nerd. I love you so much, did you know that?"

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hydrangeathief · 7 years ago

Text

quartet (ch. 1/?)

Summary: Soulmate tattoos are the link between those destined to be together, words scrawled onto skin in the other person’s handwriting, the first words a soul pair will ever speak to one another. It’s romantic, in a way, to think that fate itself has decided to so clearly and visibly knit couples together. Or at least, it would be, if Virgil didn’t have three different, distinct soulmate tattoos, all of which delivered far from positive messages. Human college AU. Pairing: LAMP/Polyamsanders CW: brief self-deprecation, some minor cursing, small and brief mentions of blood due to a broken nose, a panic attack but i kept the description light, and please please let me know if i missed anything!

Virgil wakes up on the floor, face mashed into the carpet, sunlight streaming through the blinds, apartment still and silent. He blinks a few times and groans, rolling over. He’s tangled in sheets and his entire body aches. Great. So he fell out of bed in his sleep. It’s a miracle he slept through it.

Slept through… oh shit. His alarm. Virgil sits up, heart pounding, and glances toward the alarm clock that sits on his bedside table. The clock itself is nowhere to be found, and he fumbles around the floor for a moment before he finds it, blank and unplugged, having been knocked over in the tumble out of bed. A quick check of his cell phone reveals that he has about fifteen minutes until his first exam starts, and he launches to his feet.

It takes him about three minutes to tug on a hoodie and shove his feet into beat-up old shoes, another two to fiddle with the child-proof cap on his anxiety medication. He swallows them dry. He’s going to need it today, especially with how late he’s running. Finals week is a bitch, and missing his first exam of the day isn’t going to make it any easier.

He spends the short drive to the university white-knuckling the steering wheel, but Virgil ends up making it to class just as the TA is handing out exams, breathless and shaking but miraculously in one piece. He spends the next hour alternately bubbling in the scantron and pausing to take deep breaths. Somehow he finishes the exam and retreats, making a beeline for his car.

Usually, he grabs lunch at the student center, but today is definitely a Bad Day, and on Bad Days Virgil usually goes home and sits in the dark until he has to drag himself back out for his evening class. Today, he has another exam in about an hour, so he’s going to have to settle for laying down in the backseat of his beat-up old secondhand car with his hoodie over his eyes to block out the afternoon sun.

“Whoever decided to schedule more than one final on the same Monday is a sadist,” he says to the discarded half-empty water bottle on the floor of the backseat. It does not respond, and he triple checks the alarm on his phone before closing his eyes.

He doesn’t sleep, but he manages to get his heart rate under control, which is a plus. The alarm goes off and he sits up, sweeping bangs out of his eyes, and steels himself for the walk to the math building. It’s not a long walk, but he thinks he must have bruised his hip when he fell out of bed last night, because it’s been aching all morning. He rubs at it absently, wincing when his fingers dig in. Yeah, it’s definitely bruised, right under where the soulmate tattoo is.

Hey, watch out! it says in thick, curling script. It had faded into existence sometime around his sophomore year of high school, and he’d been absolutely overjoyed. To think that someone as much of a mess as he was could have a soulmate! He’d spent days running his fingers over the ink, wondering just who it could possibly be. He didn’t really talk to people much, but someday someone would say those words, and they’d be absolutely smitten with one another. It was the light at the end of the tunnel that was his life. Sure, the words might not be entirely positive, but he was extremely lucky not to be one of the many with “Hi welcome to Chili’s” or “How can I help you?” printed somewhere on his skin.

And then, a month later, he’d woken up one morning to find I think my nose is broken scrawled messily on his right wrist, and he’d nearly died on the spot. Two soulmates wasn’t unheard of, of course-- people broke up or died or got tired of each other all the time. But two people being capable of loving Virgil? Laughable. The concept was entirely alien to him. He was a wreck, and it didn’t take long for him to realize that this second tattoo had far more negative connotations than the first. Hey, watch out! could mean anything, but what kind of person would meet their soulmate right after their nose was broken?

The third was a big enough surprise that he’d had one of his worst panic attacks to date about it. He’d gone to take off his shirt before bed one night and happened to glance in the mirror and frozen entirely, eyes locked on the rounded letters and bubbly script. You almost killed me! it exclaimed, and he’d felt the world drop out from under him.

Nobody had three soulmates. Nobody on Earth could be so unloveable as to need three soulmates, and absolutely nobody had three tattoos with so much negativity. He’d spent years almost hoping he’d never meet them. Clearly, his existence was not going to be a positive for any of them.

Virgil sighs and pulls himself out of his reverie. He needs all the focus he can muster if he’s going to scrape a passing grade on this differential equations final. He clambers out of the car, wincing as he tilts his right wrist in at a strange angle. He must have bruised it when he fell out of bed too.

The exam passes in a haze, but he’s pretty sure he managed that passing grade, so he doesn’t feel too worried when he makes his way back to his car. The sun is out, his heart isn’t pounding, and he doesn’t have another exam until Friday, so life is pretty good, or at least as it can get for Virgil. All he has to do is walk through campus and back to his car, and he’ll be home free.

He rubs at the skin over his heart with a frown. Man, he really must have done a number on himself falling out of bed. It’s a miracle he didn’t wake up.

That’s when he sees an orange blur out of the corner of his eye and someone screams, “Hey, watch out!”

Virgil hits the grass without a second thought. The blur--a frisbee--goes sailing over his head at a very high velocity, and he glances up just in time to see it smack directly into the face of a dude in a tie, who doubles over, clutching his face.

“Sorry, sorry,” says someone who Virgil presumes to be the owner of the frisbee. He’s tall, muscular, beautiful, and wearing a rather tight t-shirt with Greek letters on it. He offers Virgil a hand. Virgil takes it and hauls himself back to his feet, hissing at the pain in his hip. Yeah, it’s definitely a Bad Day. First he managed to bruise himself to hell and back, then he had to deal with a mad scramble to campus and survive two final exams in classes where he rarely understood the subject material, and now he’s experiencing near-death by frisbee. Lovely. Perfect.

“I think my nose is broken,” says the guy who took a frisbee to the face, and Virgil’s heart actually stops.

“What did you say?” he tries to say, but he can’t quite get the words out past the growing panic in his throat.

“You almost killed me!” someone yells excitedly, and yeah, Virgil is having a Bad Day. He’s also having a Strange Day, and quite possibly the Best Day Ever.

“Hold on, what did you just say?” says Hey, watch out and I think my nose is broken sucks in a gasp. Virgil shoves his hands into his pockets and wishes he had one of his fidget cubes to mess with, or even some loose change. His knees are already shaking, and he’s considering counting his breaths.

“I said, you almost killed me!” shouts the third guy, bouncing energetically over to where Hey, watch out has his hands on I think my nose is broken’s shoulder. There’s a thin trail of blood dripping down his thin face, and the skin there is already swelling. “Ooh, that looks bad. Are you okay?”

“I believe my nose to be broken, or perhaps severely bruised,” says I think my nose is broken. He tenderly prods at it, frowning, before giving himself a little shake.

“Oh, good!” says You almost killed me, quickly putting up both of his hands. “Not good that your nose is broken, of course! It’s just that you might be one of my soulmates!”

You almost killed me tugs back the sleeve of his gray cardigan, revealing a messy scrawl of letters that look exactly like those on Virgil’s own wrist. He sucks in a breath of surprise, heart skipping a beat, and shuts his eyes momentarily. He starts counting to four, then seven, then eight, dedicating the rest of his attention to the scene unfolding around him.

“Excellent!” shouts Hey, watch out. Curiosity forces Virgil’s eyes back open. He’s holding up his own wrist, and the words are an exact match. Both of the others stare with open grins.

“I’m Patton,” says You almost killed me.

“Logan,” I think my nose is broken says, holding out a hand for a handshake. Patton takes it enthusiastically.

“My name is Roman,” says the third. “And I can’t bring myself to apologize for hitting you with my frisbee. Not if it means meeting the two of you.”

“Hey, about that,” Patton says. “I have a third tattoo. Either of you?”

Both nod, and Virgil is going to have to sit down. His knees are far too shaky, and his vision is starting to tunnel. He thinks that if he doesn’t sit down right this second he might actually die, but that’s when Patton notices him for the first time, and a concerned look takes over the smile on his face.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, taking a step toward Virgil.

“Yeah, I’m good,” is what Virgil tries to tell him, but desperation seizes control of his mouth long enough for him to blurt, “I’m having a panic attack,” and then he goes down.

Patton makes a startled noise, but Virgil is too busy pulling his knees up to his chest and choking on his breaths. He buries his face in his knees and tries to focus on the feeling of the damp grass, and gentle tug of wind through his bangs, the slight chill to the air. He counts to four. He counts to seven. He counts to eight. He does it again and again, struggling to get himself under control, but he finally manages to even it out enough to glance up.

Patton is there, kneeling in front of him, hands hovering nervously.

“I’m fine,” Virgil croaks. He’s not, not yet, but he’s fine enough to have a conversation, if not make eye contact.

“Here.” Logan appears over Patton’s shoulder, face still dripping blood, holding out a water bottle. Virgil takes it with a shaking hand and drums his fingers on the cap, making no move to open it. He sighs.

“Sorry,” he says, but Patton shushes him immediately.

“No, kiddo, don’t be sorry!” he says hurriedly. “It’s overwhelming! I’m overwhelmed! I’m sure they’re both overwhelmed!”

He throws a meaningful glance over his shoulder, and Roman nods enthusiastically. Logan tries to, but hisses through clenched teeth, hands going back to his face. A bubble of hysterical laughter rises in Virgil's chest, but he tamps it down, trying for a smile instead.

“I can’t believe this is my first impression,” he mutters, but his voice is stronger now. Patton is still sitting in front of him, staring at him not with pity or condescension, but with genuine concern. It’s nice, to have someone actually worried for him, and not just out of a desire to escape the situation.

“You think you made a bad first impression?” Roman laughs. “I broke his nose.”

“Yes, you did,” Logan complains.

“Yeah, we should probably get you to a hospital for that,” Patton sighs.

“I have a car,” Virgil offers, but immediately wants to kick himself. One of them probably has a car, and they definitely don’t want cram themselves into his tiny backseat. Plus, all his CDs are loud and aggressive, and none of them look the type to want to jam to that.

“Oh, good!” Patton says, eyes lighting up, and Virgil feels his heart do a funny little hop that has nothing to do with fear. No, he just really likes the way Patton looks when he smiles. “I do not want to brave the bus!”

“You probably should not be the one driving, though,” Logan says.

“I’ll drive!” Roman offers, and just like that, Virgil finds himself leading his three soulmates to his car and pulling up Google Maps to find their way to the nearest walk-in clinic.

((supposedly there’s a tag list somewhere of people who want to be tagged in specific types of fics in this fandom and if anyone knows where i can find that pls lemme know? thanks! <3))

#polyamsanders #my writing #a post from me #if people like this pls lemme know bc i want to write a Lot more #i want to make this into its own entire au

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princessofthedarkrealm · 7 years ago

Text

Queen of Ash and Dust- An IT/Dark Tower crossover- Chapter 5

You felt your mate tense up under your embrace. You pulled back from him and gasped.

Pennywise’s brow was furrowed. His eyes were blood red.

You took a step back from him. “Penny.” You said his name softly. “What’s wrong?”

You could feel his anger rolling off of him. The clown slowly turned his head to the right. You followed his gaze. The only person standing there was Roland. You frantically glanced back and forth between him and your mate.

“Penny. What is it? It’s just Roland. He’s a friend.”

A grin played at Pennywise’s mouth. You didn’t like this. The only other person you had seen him look like this towards was Chris.

That confrontation had not ended well.

“Friend is he?”

Pennywise took a step towards Roland.

“Should a friend not look out for someone? For someone they should be protecting?”

“I have protected her, jester. Perhaps you should have been more considerate.”

Pennywise growled. You heard a ripping sound and glanced down at his hands. The claws were out.

“Oh my God. No.” You moved between Pennywise and Roland. “Penny, stop. Stop acting like this. I know you haven’t been with us, but Roland is one of the good guys. Why are you acting like this towards him?”

Pennywise pointed a finger at you. “And you stand defending him. He who let you out of his sight? He who let that other male human, that sorcerer, lay claim to what is mine?”

You narrowed your eyes at your mate. “What are you talking about? You were with me. Roman was with me. I wasn’t alone. And I sure didn’t see anyone else.

Pennywise bent over. He started laughing, a hoarse, maniacal laugh. He started muttering to himself.

“Tried to subdue me. He tried to subdue me to get to her. Yes he did. And he found her. He found her and he did something to her. What did he do? She smells different. Pennywise cannot read her mind. He must have blocked it somehow.”

You watched in horror and confusion as Pennywise rambled on. What in the world was he talking about? And why was he talking about Roman as if he was a separate person? You felt a hand on your shoulder.

Roland’s voice was in your ear. “We should leave. He’s not in his right mind.”

But you couldn’t move. Something Pennywise just said had stuck in your mind. He found her and did something to her. And he said you had smelled different.

Pennywise had placed both of his hands against the wall. His claws were now digging into the wood. You could hear his breath coming out in growls. The family of three had already fled. You didn’t blame them.

“Y/N, this isn’t safe.”

You smelled different. He had said you had smelled different. And someone had done something to you. An icy cold feeling started to fill your chest.

Someone had been in the barn with you that night. Had shared intimacies with you.

And it hadn’t been Roman.

You ran from the house. You felt like you were in a daze. Your legs were shaky and somehow you made it back to the barn. You found the spot where you had been laying at.

It was gone. The black coat was gone.

You fell on your knees. Someone else had been there with you. Had had their hands on you. Been inside you. Someone who had pretended to be your husband. You started shaking.

“No. No.”

Someone had violated you, used you for their own sick and twisted pleasure.

Someone with the power to shapeshift.

You swallowed the bile that had now risen in your throat. Was it the man Roland had been after that had done this to you? You let out a choked sob. Had he been in Tull all this time, waiting for you and Roland? Did he do this to get back at Roland for something? You tried to see it all in your mind. You had embraced Roman. The two of you had talked. And then you had…

You put a hand over your mouth as a sick feeling filled your stomach. You had drunk someone’s blood. Someone who wasn’t Pennywise. You felt bile start to rise up as you thought of something else. This person had known things about you. He knew you were pregnant. He knew you drank blood. You closed your eyes as you saw Roman riding you, filling you deep with himself. His mouth had been on yours, his hands on your breasts.

You had had sex with someone who wasn’t your husband. You started seeing red. You stood on shaky legs and made your way like a drunk person to an empty stall. You threw up the very little that you had in your stomach. And then you passed out.

~~~~~

Roland watched Y/N kneeling in the middle of the barn. He had done this. Maybe not directly. But he had still been responsible. He felt a stab of pity for the poor girl. He felt a presence next to him.

“Look what you’ve done to her, gunslinger.”

He already hated the clown. Hated his squeaky voice, his poofy orange hair. Hated the power he had over Y/N.

“You may not have laid a hand on her, but I will find the one who did. I will find him. And I will feeeeast. Feast on his flesh. And then I will come for you. And you will face my judgement.”

“And you think she’s going to be happy with that? Who will she have in this world? You think you can you can protect her from Walter any better than I could? You don’t know him apparently.”

Roland never took his eyes off of Y/N as he spoke. She put a hand to her mouth. He ached to hold her. To comfort her.

Pennywise chuckled. “Then you do not know me. Asssk her. Ask her what I do to those who get in the way. To those who mess with the human that I call mine.”

If she is yours, then why aren’t you in there with her? Roland wanted to yell. Y/N stood and went into an empty stall. Roland grit his teeth.

“Maybe you should go to her,” he shot at Pennywise.

He finally glanced at the clown. But it was gone. Roland heard Y/N throwing up.

He sighed. “What in the hell have I gotten myself into?”

He was going to meet Y/N when he heard something hit the ground in the stall where she was at. He picked up his pace. Y/N was on the ground. She had barely missed her small pool of vomit. He quickly bent down and started shaking her.

“Y/N? Y/N?”

No response. He went into the stall. He had trouble getting her out of there because of the tight space, but he managed to carry her out. He had to get her some help. He didn’t know if she was ill or if she had just passed out from shock.

He went back to the saloon. He kicked at the door since he couldn’t knock. No one answered. He hollered at Allie to open up. Finally he heard footsteps. She opened the door. Her eyes grew large as she stared at the girl in Roland’s arms.

“I need your help.”

Allie opened the door wider. “Get her inside.”

Roland held Y/N against him as he carefully made his way up the stairs. She still hadn’t woken up. Allie opened a door and told Roland to place Y/N on the bed. He did as he was told

“What happened to her?” Allie placed her hand on Y/N’s forehead.

“She fell ill. Passed out.”

Allie quirked an eyebrow at Roland. “Is that all that happened?”

He just as soon tell her.

“Someone took her…. The Man in Black.”

Allie quickly withdrew her hand as if Y/N had burned it. “And you brought her here?”

There was no mistaking the sting in her voice. “There was nowhere else.”

“And if he comes looking for her?”

“He won’t.”

“And you’re so sure?”

Allie went to light a lamp that was on a table next to the bed. “I’ll get her some water. But I will expect coin for this,” she barked. “You owe me something, gunslinger.”

Roland sighed. “Yes. You will get paid for your trouble.”

Allie grabbed a pitcher from on top of a rickety dresser. She left the room. Roland glanced down at Y/N. She looked so peaceful. Just as she had in the barn. Roland sighed again. He really needed to get that out of his head. It was no use feeling guilty about it. But he couldn’t help feeling that way.

He crouched down next to her. She really did look like something from a fairytale out of his childhood. He gently placed a hand on her forehead. She was so strong. She never complained. Maybe in another life she would have made a fine gunslinger. Maybe he even could have loved her eventually, even as young as she was. Just maybe.

“You just get well,” he told her sleeping form. “Just get well.”

**********

The desert wind howled like a legion of demons. Pennywise threw his vengeful gaze around the top of the cliff. His prey was here somewhere.

“Nice to see you again.”

Pennywise whipped around. The Man in Black was standing on top of a pile of large rocks.

“Lovely view. You should come up and join me.”

Pennywise started jumping on rocks. He couldn’t get even with him, so he had to stop at the rock just below him. Pennywise furrowed his brow in anger. No one should have been above him.

“Not surprised that you found me. Too bad you didn’t find her sooner. We’d be having a whole different conversation right now.”

Pennywise snarled. “You dared to touch her, miller’s boy.”

“Well, well, well.” Walter jumped down to be even with Pennywise. “Looks like you know things about me as well. I’m impressed.”

“I know your pathetic existence is finally up, Randall Flagg. Is that not also what you are known by?”

“I am known by many names. Just like you. You see, you and I are just alike. We’ve both been around the universe. Both desire power and chaos.” A sly grin lit up his tanned face. “Both bedded the same girl.”

With a growl, Pennywise flew at Walter. The Man in Black disappeared at the last second and Pennywise was over the boulder. He landed in a crouch several rocks down. He quickly teleported himself to the base of rocks on the other side. The Man in Black was standing at the edge of the cliff. There was no way Pennywise could touch him now without going over himself.

“Ahh, so the Eaters of Worlds and Children has learned to feel human emotion,” Walter taunted. He made a pouty face. “How sad.”

“What do you want with her?!” Pennywise cried.

Walter laced his hands behind his back. “You know I truly am amazed. You are a god, Pennywise! And yet you seem so eager to protect this girl. To love her. She is carrying your tentacles around in her pocket and you don’t even know it.”

Pennywise started to get into a crouch again. His alien blood boiled. Walter had him right where he wanted him.

He took a step towards the dark sorcerer. “What do you want with her?”

“The same things you do. Except I have no desire to hide beneath the dirt with her. Or at least…not just in the dirt. Or should I say hay.” He flashed the clown a dazzling smile. “Ta ta.”

The Man in Black jumped backwards over the side of the cliff. A few seconds later, a large raven flew off. The moonlight glinted silver off its black feathered body.

And two deadlights shown in the demon clown’s eyes.

**********

Roland’s eyes snapped open and his head came up. He had fallen asleep in a chair next to Y/N’s bed. But something had woken him up. The light of early morning shown through the curtain.

Y/N moaned. She tossed and turned. So that’s what had woken him. Roland went to her side. She moaned again, loudly

“Y/N,” he called softly.

Another moan. More tossing and turning.

“Y/N.”

He gently put his hand on her bare arm. It felt warm. He removed his hand and placed it on her forehead. Y/N had taken a turn, and not for the better.

She was burning up.

@hoe-for-daddywise @smileysam13579 @booklover2929 @penny-trash @messoria109 @rragnaarokk @ichigokage @pinoflicious @grotesquegabby @winterautumndreaming @syynnaah @theloriequeen @lesteefightme @tomuchofaclownlover @unidash @bill-istvan @daddywiseskarsgard @dirtydaddywiseslut @moonlighthope7 @apileofhappytrash @see-a-penny @superwholock36 @allkundsofwrong @hunterplushy @nychowise-hl @animelover130901 @book-wyrm-snacks @jeanethclaton18 @heartlikeasewer @skrillexsonnyjohnmoore @fandomimcurrentlyobsessedabout

#dark tower fanfiction #dark tower #roland deschain #pennywise x reader #pennywise fanfiction #gunslinger #gunslinger fanfiction

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the-unholy-abbey-of-ghost · 8 years ago

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The Novitiate (Ghost Fanfic) Ch. 2

Link to Chapter One: http://the-unholy-abbey-of-ghost.tumblr.com/post/150437024175/the-novitiate-ghost-fanfic

The story is not dead, I just really suck at updating anything.

"So, how was confession? You've made it out alive and so I'm curious." Clarisse inquired the next morning over breakfast.

Esmeralda set aside her tea. "He only asked why I was late."

"And you told him?"

"That I had accidentally slept in."

Clarisse mock chastised her with a flick of her wrist and pointer finger. "Tsk tsk, Sister." She lowered her wrist back down to pick up her fork. "What was his response? Has he specified a penance for your actions?"

Esmeralda shook her head side to side."Actually, no. He just laughed it off. Literally, laughed it off. He didn't seem to mind at all. You'd think that he would be pissed for a member of his clergy to arrive late to his own ceremony." She then resumed to sipping her hot beverage.

The younger Sister cocked her head in curious bewilderment. "That's...good? I think. A little on the unexpected side though..."

With a sigh, Esmeralda sat in thought for a moment. "I know that I was not here for the reign of the second Papa but I've heard the stories of how strict he was about the Church. I don't know what to make of his younger brother. He was quite friendly."

"All devils have their tricks and charms." Clarisse looked at her friend with a warning gaze. "Perhaps he was only being lenient with you because you're a novice. Whose to say that he would not dish out some harsh punishment the next time or to someone whose had more experience with the Church? Be careful, Sister."

As Esmeralda was about to speak, she spotted the time on the on the roman numeral clock embedded into the stone wall. "It looks like it's time to go."

The two Sisters then rose from their seats to begin the short journey to the Chapel of Ritual. Clarisse was an early bird and often liked to leave for mass well before the bells chimed. It ensured that seating was available. Or so she said. The pews would be empty but the room itself was usually being prepared by the Ghouls.

They arrived at their destination, the doors were open so that the congregation could pour in right after the bell chimed for mass. Once inside, Clarisse took her spot in the very back pew with Esmeralda following after her. All was quiet save for the Air Ghoul softly playing the intro tune to Monstrance Clock on the pipe organ in the left hand corner of the room.

The Earth Ghoul was setting up the altar and lighting candles. When he was finished preparing the front of the room, he turned to walk to the back so that he could light the candles there also.

"Good morning, ladies." He said casually as he passed their pew.

"Good morning, Earth Ghoul." The two said.

Esmeralda didn't miss the way Clarisse had been staring at his every move or the dreamy way she greeted him. Somehow in her short time in the Church, she had developed a bit of an infatuation with him. There was no telling how or why it happened. Perhaps it was his voice or the way that he carried himself? There was no real answer and she never bothered to bring it up to Clarisse either.

The Water Ghoul and Alpha who would normally be helping in preparations in some way were absent, they must have had classes today. The Ghouls in the clergy would often assume roles as educational leaders from within the ministry. Water and Alpha were usually the first to be appointed to teach new members of the congregation. As for Omega, he was most likely somewhere in the back rooms, readying himself for today's mass.

There was still about fifteen minutes before mass, Air had switched to an even more solemn tune as he continued to warm up his fingers. Esmeralda closed her eyes and leaned back onto the pew, immersing herself into the meditative state that the soft organ playing was inducing upon her.

"Good morning, Esmeralda. I see that you're early." A familiar voice quietly said near her. She awoke from her trance with a little jolt, startled to find Papa standing next to the pew, wearing the same black and white suit from yesterday. "I haven't woken you, have I?"

She peered up at him to find him smiling gently. "Good morning, Papa!" She bowed her head slightly. "No, you haven't. I was just resting my eyes. The organ is soothing." She explained herself.

"Ah, yes. Air certainly is talented with the organ, is he not?" He turned his attention to the Air Ghoul who had looked over his shoulder at the two and gave a curt nod of recognition before returning his focus to the keys.

Esmeralda wondered what emotion had been hidden under the mask, the man hardly said a word. "I agree, he's wonderful."

Papa hummed his approval. "I'm glad you think so." He lifted his arm and pulled back the black sleeve away from his glove to look at a watch. "There's about ten minutes still before mass, why not use that time to rest up, ah?" He lowered his arm and patted her shoulder softly. "I must finish any necessary preparations. I'll see you during the service." He nodded his head to her before taking off for the back room.

Clarisse had watched the whole encounter and leaned over to Esmeralda. "I see that someone has become quite familiar with our new Pope." She whispered. "Tell me, what really happened during confession, hm?"

Esmeralda gasped at her insinuation. "Sister, absolutely nothing like that happened!"

"You addressed him as merely "Papa", only the Sisters who have had the honors of bedding our most Infernal Father address him so familiarly. Sister, if there is something that you're hiding, it won't be hidden for long!" She sing songed in a hushed voice.

"He told me to-"

"Kneel beneath his cloak?"

"Sister, no!" Esmeralda frowned. "He only asked me to-"

"Become a bad "habit" nun?" She chuckled to herself.

"Shh! Let me finish! He only-"

"Cast a veil of "dusk" upon your "cloister"?" She nearly snorted to herself.

"Sister, Clarisse. I-" Esmeralda's cheeks were growing warmer with each one.

"Tasted his magic potion, niveous?" The other Sister's shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter.

Esmeralda sighed in resignation. "Fine! Get it all out of your system." Might as well let her have this one for now. The young girl was relentless, it seemed.

"That's all I got." She fell quiet with a smile. At last the teasing had ended. The older Sister waited a few seconds before responding and breathed deeply before continuing.

"As I was saying, Sister. His Infernal Majesty asked that I address him as "Papa." I haven't refused his request." She finally answered.

"I see...but would you have refused him other things?" She asked with a broad grin.

"Oh, Sister..." Esmeralda leaned forward to rest her forehead against the pew in front of them. A low chuckle sounded from behind them and they both turned to see Earth having finished lighting candles before a statue of Baphomet. He had been listening to the whole thing hadn't he?

"You girls." He shook his head, the corners of his blue eyes turned up. The sign of a smile. "Such nunsense." He offered his own pun and continued chuckling as he returned to the altar. Clarisse had noticeably tensed next to Esmeralda, her cheeks a bright pink.

Esmeralda leaned to Clarisse. "Would you refuse service to Earth Ghoul?" She whispered.

Before the older Sister had a chance to poke fun, the church bell chimed and people began to steadily pour into the room, filling the pews. Luckily the seats always remained near empty towards the back, and so there was more than enough elbow room to go around.

There was some light chatter buzzing about the room, Esmeralda swore she heard whispers of yesterday's stunt. Quick glances her way confirmed the matter. She felt her face flush with the unwanted attention and she averted her gaze downwards.

The sound of an altar bell roused the attention of the congregation and all was silent. Papa stood at the altar table, dressed in his formal robes. He set a gentle flame to some frankincense in a swinging incense burner and held it in the air, allowing it to swing like a pendulum. Esmeralda noted how he regained his intimidating presence just by a mere change of clothes. Was this really the man who had been so laid back with her?

Omega, with his guitar. Soon followed after Papa and joined in at the seat next to Air and they both began to play a rather softer sounding version of Con Clavi Con Dio. The opening procession was beginning and everyone started to sing.

"Lucifer, we are here for your praise. Evil One.

Our congregation sings infernal psalms and smear the smudge in bleeding palms.

Siamo con clavi.

Siamo con dio.

Siamo con il nostro dio scuro."

The opening procession concluded three or so minutes later and Papa set down the incense burner.

"Lucifer's light enlighten you." He addressed the people.

"And also enlighten you."

"I've been made aware that we have some new members to our fold. I welcome you. I also welcome back those who have been here during my brother's service and even our eldest brother's, our founder. Dark Lord empower his soul in the beyond! It's been quite some time since his passing. I'm sure our veteran members have seen much change here since the foundation of our Church. Well you're about to witness a bit more, aren't you?"

Some low chuckles emitted from some of the older members.

"I'd like to thank Omega for filling in for these services in the time between the end of my brother's service and the beginning of mine." A round of claps filled the room as Omega stood and bowed before reclaiming his seat.

"Furthermore, because of what happened yesterday. I've been asked by Mother Imperator to give a brief lecture on punctuality." There came a few snide remarks, snickers, and whispers. "Now stop that, that's not polite." He scolded as if talking to children and the voices were hushed. However, this didn't stop Esmeralda from sinking into her pew a little.

Papa pulled out some note cards. "Mother Imperator has given her input here." He began to flip through the cards. "Fuck that." He tossed them away, letting them scatter on the floor.

A few gasps sounded throughout the room. No one expected the Church's new Dark Pope to disregard anything by Mother Imperator so blatantly.

"Here is my say on the subject. If you're late, I'm sure there is a reason for it. We all have our days, no? We sometimes forget the time, we stain our clothes before the big event and have to raid our closets under pressure, someone puts us in a foul mood and we no longer care for being on time, or we may accidentally shut down our alarms instead of hitting the snooze button." A round of chuckles filled the room and Papa briefly glanced at Esmeralda with a smile.

"We're all only human, being late is a common mistake. Just don't go making any habits of it." Papa announced sternly. "With that said, I still have to appease Mother Abbess somehow and so I have come up with a solution to the matter. Omega and the other Ghouls will be in charge of taking attendance, if you are twenty minutes late for any event over a period of seven days, you will be spending study and religious sessions with the Air Ghoul for a duration of six weeks. He takes his job very seriously." Air looked over the crowd and nodded.

"However if you are more than thirty minutes late or are absent from any event for a period of seven days without a medical excuse, you will be spending your sessions with Mother Imperator for six weeks." Papa eyed the crowd. "None of us want that, do we? Hell no!" He chuckled to himself. There was no way that Esmeralda would be able to last with Mother Imperator. It was a good thing that being late to the inauguration was a one time deal and that she will never be late to another event again, or at least she hoped.

"Now that all of that has been taken care of, let us move on with the service." Papa continued.

The rest of the black mass continued with psalms to the Dark Ones, the Church's anti-Nicene creed, an observance of darker aspects of human nature, and finally concluded with the mass singing Monstrance Clock.

"Everyone have a wonderful rest of the day, for those that don't have anything scheduled, go out and fuck each other!"

Everyone gathered in loud laughter and smiles. It was clear that the services would be very entertaining and far less formal than what the congregation was used to. The room began to empty faster than it had filled.

"The entire congregation seems to be genuinely enjoying themselves." Clarisse stated.

"It's definitely not the norm but it is a wonderful change from all the formal and boring services." Esmeralda was mostly glad that all the attention seemed to be drawn away from her again.

"I think I'm going to really like this new Infernal Father, I see what you mean now. He seems to be a very relaxed person." The younger sister glanced at Papa then back to Esmeralda. "I still think something happened between the two of you though, you were barely there for half the service. I could tell your mind was elsewhere, Sister!"

"Sister, please. Not with so many people around!" The older sister whispered. "Besides, I was paying attention to the service."

"Sister, you locked eyes with him on a number of occasions throughout the service."

Had she, really? How could she have done so without realizing? Esmeralda's face flushed a bright pink.

"It appeared as though the both of you were communication unspoken words to one another. Or as if the two of you were disrobing each other with your eyes!" Clarisse grinned ear to ear. So,The teasing continued.

"Sister, please!" Esmeralda sighed.

"I'm joking, Sister. I have to be going now. I have choir next. After that speech, I don't want to be late. I'll meet with you soon. Oh and, I think the Infernal Father desires your attention." She whispered the last part. Sure enough as soon as the most of the people had left the room, Papa was making his way over to them. "Toodles, Sister!" The younger Sister chuckled softly to herself as she made her way out of the room.

Esmeralda sighed as she stood, feeling completely awkward while waiting for Papa to cross the short distance down the aisle.

"Esmeralda, dear! Did you enjoy the service?"

"Y-yes, Papa. It was very different from anything I've seen thus far."

"Ah, good, good then! Tell me, have you anything scheduled today?"

"I have lessons in demonic studies in an hour but after that, nothing." She wondered why he wanted to know her schedule today.

"Would you perhaps like to join me for lunch this afternoon?" His eyes gleamed hopefully.

What. Was this...a date? Esmeralda felt a fluttering in her chest. No, no. Couldn't be, right?

"You are a bright young member to the flock and I would like to hear any input from you regarding any changes I'd like to make. Given our little chat yesterday, I'd love to discuss the matter with you in detail." He further elaborated.

Right, not a date. The fluttering in her chest receded and she mentally recollected herself. "Sure, I'll join you for lunch!"

"Splendid! Meet me in the garden at 12:30. I like to take my lunch outside in the gazebo."

Esmeralda nodded curtly. "Will do, Papa." She smiled up at him.

"I'm glad! I must be off now to run a few things over in my office." He patted her shoulder and made a step towards the door but stopped as if he had remembered something. He turned to her, "oh, and Esmeralda. Would you be so kind as to wear something nice? Not to say that you don't already look nice, You look very pretty in your habit but it is very rewarding to dress outside the norm, wouldn't you agree?"

Esmeralda's cheeks tinged a light dust of pink. "I do! I'll find something to wear, I'm sure." She broke into a nervous grin.

"Good, good, my dear! I'll see you then." He grasped her hand in his and pressed her knuckle to his lips briefly before leaving the room. There was that fluttering back in her chest again. There was something to look forward to this afternoon and it made her nervous in an excited way.

Esmeralda walked out of the room unaware of the piercing gaze of Sister Athaliah on her back. 'The Father has picked a favorite already, has he?' The dark haired Sister thought. 'Well, he'll be delighted to get to have the experience of a more "educated" Sister, won't he?'

She smirked to herself and strutted out of the room, heels clicking down the near empty halls.

#The Novitiate #Ghost Fanfiction #Papa Emeritus III #Papa III #Nameless Ghouls

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mrmichaelchadler · 6 years ago

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Book Excerpt: It's Okay With Me: Hollywood, The 1970s, and the Return of the Private Eye by Jason Bailey

We're proud to present an excerpt from a new book by Jason Bailey, "It's Okay With Me: Hollywood, The 1970s, and the Return of the Private Eye."

Synopsis (from Amazon.com): One of the cornerstones of the 1970s New Hollywood movement was the reinvention of genres from the studio era, with Westerns, musicals, and gangster movies getting the “revisionist” treatment by the so-called Film Brats who were raised on them. But few genres were revisited with as much vigor as the private eye movie – which found New Hollywood icons like Robert Altman, Roman Polanski, and Arthur Penn putting their distinctive spin on the timeworn conventions of the gumshoe film. So what was it about the private eye movie that was so compelling at that particular juncture, in both film history and American life? In It’s Okay With Me, author Jason Bailey dives deep into the essential detective pictures of the era, breaking down how they bridged past and present, while examining how each film was not only representative of New Hollywood, but of the wider cultural moment.

“At first I said, I don’t want to do Raymond Chandler,” Robert Altman recalled, of the initial offer to direct the 1973 film version of The Long Goodbye. “If you say ‘Philip Marlowe,’ people just think of Humphrey Bogart.” But when Gould’s name was floated, “then I was interested. So I read Leigh Brackett’s script, and in her version, in the last scene, Marlowe pulled out his gun and killed his best friend, Terry Lennox. It was so out of character for Marlowe, I said, ‘I’ll do the picture, but you cannot change that ending! It must be in the contract.’ They all agreed, which was very surprising. If she hadn’t written that ending, I guarantee I wouldn’t have done it."

Brackett’s participation was a key link to the character’s past – her second screenwriting credit, shared with William Faulkner and Jules Furthman, was for Hawks’ Big Sleep. “I met Chandler only once,” Brackett said. “I know he wanted Marlowe to be depicted as an honest man, and somebody who was his own man. I wanted to get that into the screenplay. But I also had to show Marlowe the way he looks to us now in the Seventies… Because Marlowe, as Chandler saw him, would be unthinkable in the Seventies.” Altman agreed: “I think it’s a goodbye to that genre - a genre that I don’t think is going to be acceptable anymore.” To convey that displacement, Altman and Brackett hit upon their guiding principle. “I decided we were going to call him Rip Van Marlowe,” Altman said, “as if he’d been asleep for twenty years, had woken up and was wandering through this landscape of the early 1970s but trying to invoke the morals of a previous era.”

To drive the point home, Altman starts the film with Gould’s Marlowe literally waking up from a deep sleep. These opening shots are the only time he’s not in a full suit, which he even wears to take out his laundry. Throughout the picture, he’s the only one wearing a tie (even the gangsters are in turtlenecks), and he only removes it when he goes into the ocean (though he leaves his coat on). Marlowe’s the only one smoking – and he’s doing it constantly – the “Marlboro Man” sticking out like a sore thumb in the New Age, health-conscious enclave of Malibu. (He doesn’t stop smoking until the very end, when he needs that hand for his gun.)

The world has changed around him: his neighbors are naked yoga flower children, his cellmate is a chatty revolutionary, and he finds his missing person in a smiley/happy rehab facility. But this Marlowe is a walking anachronism – he just keeps smoking his cigarettes, tying his tie, and doing his job. He is surrounded by his time, yet he is not of it.

"He is a knight errant, and like Don Quixote imperfectly understands the world he inhabits,” Roger Ebert wrote of Gould’s Marlowe, noting that, in contrast to the sardonic narrators of the earlier Chandler pictures, his is a “meandering dialogue that plays as a bemused commentary to himself.” And perhaps he is, though “to himself” seems too purposeful a description for this Marlowe’s sideways mumble, which is less Bogart than W.C. Fields – and seems to point the way towards another muttering Altman protagonist, Robin Williams’ Popeye. His frustrated asides (“Boy, that cockamamie cat”) and nonplussed reactions (“Why don’tcha go over there and tell the girls they’ll catch a cold”) seem a coping mechanism, a way of at least amusing himself in a world where nothing else makes sense.

Altman’s refusal to play by the rules is made clear right from the jump, as he spends no less than eleven minutes on an opening sequence in which Marlowe goes on a late-night grocery store run to feed his finicky cat. It could just be one of Altman’s oddball touches, like the unexplained baby shoe in Marlowe’s apartment or the inexplicable carnival photo booth that takes his mug shot; maybe it’s just a character beat, establishing the proper anything-goes mood. But author William Luhr positions it as a miniature version of the complex mystery that follows, in which Marlowe shuttles his pal Terry Lennox off to Mexico, is accused of assisting in Terry’s murder of his wife, is hired to track down drunken, suicidal Hemingway-esque author Roger Wade, and ends up discovering (wouldn’t ya know it) that his two cases are connected. Yet in both the cat food jaunt and the Lennox/Wade mystery, Luhr argues, “empty characters and empty actions begin and end with Marlowe alone, feeling betrayed, and without the resources to understand or to cope with his situation.”

The opening sequence is one of three that comes up most often in discussions, both laudatory and critical, of The Long Goodbye, along with gangster Marty Alexander smashing a Coke bottle on his mistress’s face (a brutal echo of James Cagney and his grapefruit) and the surprise ending. All three scenes, significantly, are nowhere to be found in Chandler’s source novel, and anyone approaching the film looking for straight adaptation will find little to hold on to. Even casual viewers will likely find its borderline perverse visual style – with the camera in constant motion via zooms, dolleys, pans, and shifting focal points – disorienting or even off-putting. (Cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond also inserts an extra dose of smoggy California haze by “flashing” the negative.) But these flourishes give the picture the wild, improvisational feel of a free-form jazz number – Altman as Mingus. More importantly, it’s of a piece with the storytelling; Marlowe cannot figure out his place in this world, and Altman never lets him (or, consequently, us) settle comfortably into his surroundings.

And as a result, it’s hard not to notice that Marlowe isn’t much of a detective. The payoff of his unsuccessful 3am cat food run is that he can’t even fool his own pet. When Terry Lennox arrives shortly thereafter, they pay “liar’s poker” – and Marlowe loses, an apt metaphor for the adventure to follow, in which he pledges constant allegiance to his friend, a conniving murderer who has exploited that friendship. The lug who gives Marlowe a lift home from jail puts it bluntly: “Sorry, Marlowe. Sorry you’re so stupid.” Other movies have their detective stumble around a bit, as is necessary to preserve the suspense of their mysteries; this one explicitly calls its hero dumb, and takes its time disproving the thesis.

Yet even this sap eventually wises up. When a drunken Marlowe presses Wade’s wife for the truth about his suicide, the mumble disappears; when he asks her, “Are you gonna tell me what really happened here,” he speaks plainly and clearly. Most people slur their speech when they’re drunk. Marlowe stops slurring. (Is it an affectation? Something to keep people off-guard?) When he chases her car down a busy street and she strangely ignores him, his sense of self is finally reignited – he plays the fool, but he will not be played for a fool. He finds the supposedly dead Terry luxuriating in Mexico and waiting for his newly single mistress Ellen Wade; Terry grins, “I guess if anybody was gonna track me down, it’d be you,” but he certainly doesn’t seem concerned about betraying his friend, or the consequence of that betrayal. Confronted with his crimes, Terry is unmoved. “What the hell, nobody cares,” he shrugs (a key concluding statement of Hickey & Boggs the previous year).

“Yeah, nobody cares but me,” Marlowe replies.

“That’s you, Marlowe,” Terry says. “You’ll never learn. You’re a born loser.”

“Yeah, I even lost my cat.” And with that, Marlowe shoots the fucker dead.

It’s a shocking, repugnant, and glorious moment, all at once – a “fuck you” to not only the customary hero code of the private eye movie, but the easy-come-easy-go spirit of the character until that moment. Throughout the film, he is passive in both action and in attitude; Terry’s “What the hell, nobody cares” isn’t that far removed from Marlowe’s own refrain of “It’s okay with me,” except that he’s finally encountered something that’s not okay. It’s the moment at which his anachronistic hero becomes, at long last, the modern man – evening the score for a personal slight, and thus philosophically equipped for the “Me Generation.” The ending doesn’t make him a better man; many would argue (and did, loudly, following the picture’s release) that it makes him a lesser one. But it certainly makes him a man of his time.

Considering its unconventional approach and unapologetic torching of genre norms, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that critics and audiences greeted The Long Goodbye with such hostility. It premiered at one of critic Judith Crist’s famed Terrytown weekends (fictionalized and immortalized in Woody Allen’s Stardust Memories) in perhaps the worst possible circumstances: following screenings of all the previous Marlowe pictures. West Coast critics fumed; Variety dubbed it “an uneven mixture of insider satire on the gumshoe film genre, gratuitous brutality, and sledgehammer whimsy,” while the Los Angeles Times’ Charles Champlin called Gould’s Marlowe “an untidy, unshaven, semi-literate dimwit slob who could not locate a missing skyscraper and would be refused service at a hot dog stand,” and sneered, “He is not Chandler’s Marlowe, or mine, and I can’t find him interesting, sympathetic or amusing, and I can’t be sure who will.” Kenneth Turan (also later of the Times) included it on a late-‘70s list of the worst movies ever made.

Box office was bad in its initial Los Angeles engagements, and runs in Chicago, Philadelphia, and Miami were likewise disappointing. Its New York premiere was cancelled at the eleventh hour, even though press screenings had already been held, and it was withdrawn from release nationwide. Rumors circulated that it would be re-edited, shortened, or abandoned altogether; it turned out, United Artists had re-jiggered its marketing campaign, torpedoing the initial posters and ads, which framed it as a straight thriller, for new posters by Mad magazine illustrator Jack Davis, which made it look like a madcap comedy. Opening in New York months later, it was a modest hit, championed by the New Yorker’s Pauline Kael (“Altman, who probably works closer to his unconscious than any other American director, tells a detective story, all right, but he does it through a spree—a high-flying rap on Chandler and the movies and that Los Angeles sickness”) and the New York Times’ Vincent Canby, who put it on the paper’s year-end top 10 list and praised its creators for having “the courage to create an original character and almost an original story that, by being original, does more to honor Chandler's skills than would any attempt to make a forties movie today."

But Farewell, My Lovely, a much more faithful Marlowe picture (with Robert Mitchum taking on the role) released two years later, was a much bigger commercial and critical success. By preferring that traditional appreciation to the tart aftertaste of Long Goodbye, contemporary critics were letting their own notion of nostalgia gloss over the blackness at the heart of true noir. That view, Luhr writes, “belies an understanding of the profoundly anti-nostalgic, anti-sentimental cynicism and despair that pervaded the actual films themselves, as well as The Long Goodbye.”

Films like Farewell, My Lovely regarded private eyes shallowly, refusing to wrestle with what a character like Marlowe truly meant in this era. It was easier to slap a trenchcoat on him, to put him in a window covered in streaming rain to a saxophone theme, and let us stash him in the past. Farewell was safe, a museum piece, a humorless presentation of fixed images, while the variation Altman presented was unbalancing – in his words, in his actions, even in the way his director framed him – and viewers resisted. "I suspect that people are reluctant to say goodbye to the old sweet bull of the Bogart Marlowe because it satisfies a deep need,” Kael wrote. “They’ve been accepting the I-look-out-for-No. 1 tough guys of recent films, but maybe they’re scared to laugh at Gould’s out-of-it Marlowe because that would lose them their Bogart icon. At the moment, the shared pop culture of the audience may be all that people feel they have left.” And that tension – between who was onscreen and what we needed them to be – would only pull tighter as the decade continued.

“It’s Okay With Me: Hollywood, The 1970s, and the Return of the Private Eye” is available now in paperback and Kindle editions.

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