#poltergeist virgil

[myhauntedsalem]

O.K. Corral

After tensions had been building between the Earps and the Cowboy faction in Tombstone, Marshal Virgil Earp determined to disarm the men on October 26, 1881, resulting in the 30-second shoot out, which left Frank and Tom McLaury, as well as Billy Clanton, dead. Also involved in the gunfight for the Cowboys were Ike Clanton, Billy Claiborne, and Wes Fuller. In the Earp party were brothers, Virgil, Wyatt, and Morgan, as well as Doc Holliday.

Today, the OK Corral is allegedly haunted by the ghosts of the Cowboys Over the years, a number of witnesses have reported seeing the fading apparitions of men dressed in cowboy attire, often appearing with guns drawn, perhaps locked into a perpetual battle with the Earps. Others have claimed to have felt numerous cold spots in various areas of the corral. Plus, guests sometimes overhear the sounds of phantom horses.

Some think that the OK Corral may have more apparitions than any other site in the southwest. Tombstone’s late lawmen and lawless patrol the property, packing their pistols and pitching a fit. Who are these poltergeists?  Most are familiar with Gunfight at the OK Corral (1957) and Tombstone (1993), yet these feature films are deceiving. The shootout didn’t occur at the OK Corral. Wyatt Earp also wasn’t a central figure. Instead, Wyatt’s brother Virgil may have been the primary gunslinger. Virgil was Tombstone’s Town Marshal and Deputy U.S. Marshal – giving him more experience as a sheriff, constable, marshal, and soldier in combat.

The Cowboys continued to the OK Corral, where they discussed their plans to kill Virgil, Morgan, and Wyatt Earp. Witnesses reported these threats to Virgil, who was Tombstone's current city marshal. Virgil already believed that the Cowboys had violated the ordinance, so he was eager for a showdown.

Virgil testified to the warning, alleging afterward that Bahan had cautioned, "For God's sake, don't go down there or they will murder you!" But Virgil was a hard man. He didn’t flinch. Virgil replied, "Those men have made their threats and I will not arrest them but I will kill them on sight."

No one knows why, but the Cowboys continued to the narrow lot near C.S. Fly's Photography Studio. There, the Earps joined Doc Holliday to confront the Cowboys. Once Virgil saw the Cowboys, he ordered, "Throw up your hands, I want your guns!" The Cowboys refused to relinquish their weapons; the legendary gunfight began.

It's uncertain who shot first. Accounts are contradictory. Eyewitnesses were also confused by the smoke from the shootout, unable to see through the black powder. Yet thirty shots were fired within thirty seconds. Frank's bullet bruised Doc Holliday's hip, grazing his holster. Virgil Earp was shot through the calf. Both Frank and Billy Clanton were killed. Tom McLaury, too, was killed. Only Wyatt Earl was uninjured.

The Gunfight at the OK Corral wasn’t the site’s only shootout. Another occurred on the first of July, 1897 between “Justice” Jim Burnett and William Greene. Burnett is said to haunt the historic site today, his body beaten with bullets.  Burnett was the Justice of the Peace for Charleston, a town located between Tombstone and Sierra Vista. He was a hard-hitting, no-nonsense “man of all hats,” working too as Charleston’s Judge and Marshal. Burnett even tracked down outlaws, collecting the fines that he placed for personal gain. Yet William Greene wouldn’t back down from the bullying Burnett, who had earned a reputation as a browbeater. Their long-simmering feud caused Greene to build a dam that blocked the water flow into Burnett’s land. This backfired on Greene, who later lost a daughter to the blockade.

William’s daughters Ella and Eva Greene had taken Katie Corcoran to the riverbed. They had planned to swim for the day, unaware that it would be their last. Yet the dam had been dynamited, causing the water to rise to cataclysmic levels. Heedless, the girls raced down to the river; Ella and Katie jumped first, spinning and sliding through the air. They were quickly submerged, wiped out by the river.

[authorized-trash]

Pesky Poltergeist (1/2)

Note: I was writing an actual long one-shot for this but don't have the time and am quickly losing inspiration, so have a bullet-point fic.

Trigger Warnings: Panic Attacks, Gore, Mild to Extreme Body Horror, Screaming, Panic Attacks, Vomiting, Death Scenes, Murder, Terror, Violence (It isn't all scary, it has a nice ending)

~•~

Roman, Logan, and Patton had known each other since they were small elementary schoolers.

Patton was the one to suggest the now-college students move in together.

The others quickly agreed, and they bought a small cabin that was on the outskirts of their town, not too far from their community college

Things were great at first, nothing out of the ordinary

...yet

The occurrences started small. Things would go missing, moved to the other side of the room

One time, Patton was cooking and dropped a fork. When he reached to pick it up, it was no where to be seen. Standing back up, he saw it sticking straight up and down on the plate of spaghetti.

Another time, Roman had been practicing his guitar when his pick was suddenly yanked from his fingers, thrown half-way across the room. He shrugged it off, perhaps it was a gust of wind.

Logan was reading when suddenly his book slammed shut on his fingers, causing him to yelp

The occurrences began to get larger, harder to ignore.

Pictures would peel from their frames, tumbling to the ground. This wouldn't be too odd if it wasn't for the fact that the glass was still intact

Roman was washing the dishes when he witnessed a plate role across the counter, around the back of the sink, and into the trash can.

Patton came home early from school to find the cabinets were all completely rearranged.

They had a family meeting about the occurrences, and Logan suggested they leave.

Patton refused, as did Roman. Living with a ghost would be so bad.

All Hell broke loose.

Roman walked home from school, and went to turn on the light. He only caught a glimpse of the shadowy figure down the hall as he did, and he hurried to turn the light back off for a better look.

There was a figure dressed in a black cloak down the hallway, barely darker than the shadows. Roman turned on the light again, nothing. Off, something. On, nothing.

He continued to do this, paralyzed, his body too afraid to stop.

Then, the thing appeared inches in front of his face, it's eyes beady and black, mouth sewn shut.

Roman screamed, turning the light on and running out of the house as fast as possible.

Logan was the first to make actual contact with the entity.

He was getting out of the shower, and was drying his hair when the steam on the mirror began to wipe away, leaving words.

'You have to get out'

He stopped, staring at it for a moment, "What do you mean?" He had asked, his voice thick with terror.

A few days later, and the trio learned a vital piece of information. There wasn't one ghost, but many. The other's were just less strong.

Roman had caught sight of once, sitting on the couch as he walked by. He did a double take, and there it was. The apparition was so light, it was almost like the very beginnings of a rainbow, he could see it, but couldn't at the same time. Wasn't sure if it was real.

Patton found out that one of them could be contacted through a mirror. He could be seen somewhere in every mirror, no matter the time of day, you just had to look.

The mirror ghost introduced himself as Emile.

Emile told them of the other three ghosts in the house, and explained that there were so many more, but only those four could appear or were strong enough to do stuff.

In fact, Emile was the second weakest of the four.

The occurrences hadn't stopped, they grew worse.

Logan had a dream where he had slowly shoved his glasses into his eye sockets, blood and flesh hanging loose and dripping.

Patton fell and scraped his knee, hallucinating ravens that came down to pick at the flesh until his lower half was nothing but bone

Roman was singing when suddenly he felt a searing pain in his mouth, his tongue had fallen out.

These were all just really vivid and painful hallucinations however.

The worse was yet to come.

Roman was the first to hear it, the long, low, and painful wailing that came from the walls. It terrified him, but honestly, he was used to fear at the moment.

Patton asked Emile one day why his friends were so mean to him and his friends. Emile just shook his head sadly and wrote out an answer.

There were four ghosts, and none are strong enough to do such things. No, the trio of humans lived with four ghosts, and one very angry poltergeist.

It was Logan who met the third ghost. This one could only appear in dreams, and Logan, someone who had very vivid dreams, found that he was quite different then Emile.

"Hey babe, you're gonna have to wake up, you slept past your alarm sweetheart. Go get yourself some coffee, you totes need it," The male ghost had said. He was incredibly flamboyant, feminine.

He introduced himself as Remy one night.

And with the reveal of the third ghost, the beginning of the worst had finally began.

Logan had times where he'd be talking to Remy, only to be ripped from sleep and thrown against a wall. Loud laughter and snickering caused his ears to hurt, hand tore at his clothing as he flailed, trying to grab something. He was being aggressively dragged toward the ceiling.

Roman lost control of his hands while cooking, watching as his own hand took a knife and went slice slice slice. Every cut resealed immediately, but they hurt like Hell. He watched as his right hand forced the knife through the left, but instead of amputating, it resealed.

He screamed and called for Patton, who ran downstairs and wrestled the knife from Roman.

Patton was getting a glass of water to calm his nerves, days after the knife event. He drank it, the liquid cool and comforting. It took a moment, but then he felt it. Wriggling and movement in his throat. He vomited, maggots and worms and dirt and bugs. He felt centipedes crawl from his ears, his nose, small worms crawling out of his eyes.

That was it! He had had it!

He marched up to every door, hitting them with his fists. It was an hour after the bugs had cleared up. And he was done.

"Hey! You dumb stupid fucking poltergeist!" He shouted, causing both Roman and Logan to run and put and get him to be quiet.

"I want to have a word! I want you to stop hurting my family you fucker! I'm sick of this! We did nothing to you!" Patton shouted. He knew something was troubling the entity, by now they had all heard the wailing at night. But he couldn't find it in himself to care.

In a flash of light, something appeared in front of them. A person.

"Shut it, will you?" The ghost hissed, "If you piss him off we'll all be in trouble!"

The apparition had a huge melty-burn on the left side of his face, and an old 1930s outfit.

The trio questioned the ghost, finding out that they were the fourth, the strongest. He was able to appear fully physical and could move stuff.

"Well tell your friend to stop bothering us! I'm sick of it!" Patton snarled back, going full-dad mode.

"I can't let yo-"

"Where is he?"

"Pardon?"

"Right now, where is this stupid pesky poltergeist.

"The- the attic but-"

Patton pushed past him, walking to the closet at the end of the hallway, slamming it open. He pulled down the latch for the latter and climbed up without hesitation, despite Roman and Logan's shouts.

Patton landed in the room, seeing something hunched in the corner. He turned on the light, watching as a sad, sallow face turned to lurk at him.

The spirit's eyes were completely black, bloody dripping from the sockets. Black circles that matched the blackness of it's hair hung under it's eyes. It wore a black button up, but the back was full of large, bloody hatchet wounds.

~•~

That's all for now, I don't have the time arm to continue the last stretch of this story. If I make a second part, I will most likely not include any specifics about the spirits, so if you would like to ask something like, "Who was the first ghost?" or "How did they die?" Send me an ask.

If I so write more it will most likely be out tomorrow or tonight

[98prilla]

To The Dead

Next

AO3

WARNING this chapter contains suicide. This story will contain lots of talk of death and murder, so be careful. 

...

The ghosts of the house were restless.  

 Patton couldn’t stop opening and closing the cupboards, trying to find something to cook before being reminded, again, by Logan that he can’t.

 Logan was watching Roman, who was pacing back and forth across the living room floor, phantom creaks echoing as he hit squeaky flooring.

 Janus was pulling at his gloves, caught in a loop of straightening his clothes, fixing his bow tie, tugging at his gloves, buttoning and unbuttoning his dark jacket.

 Remus was cartwheeling through the air, the poltergeist more subdued than normal, though he buzzed with a frantic energy, whatever room he entered dropping ten degrees, dread radiating off him, though not from him.

 Something was wrong, something was wrong, something was wrong!

 Everyone froze at the door slamming open, then shut, the only living resident of the house arriving home.

 And not in a good state, either. His shoulders were hunched, his breath seizing and gasping, tears flooding down his face as he crumpled on the couch, a ball of darkness in his purple patched hoodie.  

 Patton let out a sound of distress, swooping over to the kid on the couch, wrapping an arm around him, not that he could feel it, murmuring reassurances, not that he could hear them.  

 “I’m so s-stupid. S-such a w-waste, what’s even the point?” Janus inhaled sharply, something cold and hard settling into his stomach.

 “No. you’re not, you’re not a waste, you’re amazing, your art is amazing.” Roman added, glancing at him as he stopped his pacing, unable to see anything of the person except their shaking shoulders.

 He meant it, though. His art was amazing. His ball point pen drawings, his calligraphy incredible, his sketches amazing, he’d pored over them for hours, loved watching their living companion create them.

 Suddenly, the human lurched to his feet, startling all of them. His face was pale and drawn, dark bags under his eyes, he hadn’t been sleeping well, they all knew it, he often stayed up until odd early morning hours. Sometimes, he didn’t get up for full days at a time. Sometimes he didn’t eat, didn’t shower, barely took care of himself at all. It made all of them worried. But they’d never seen him like this.

 He was shaking, but he seemed determined, a dark kind of fierceness on his face as he made his way down the hall, opening the bathroom door, throwing open the cupboard doors.

 “no. No, honey, no, don’t do this, please, please, don’t do this.” Patton, desperate, trying to shove the doors shut, but with the living being holding them open, his influence was barely a nudge as the person’s gaze flitted across the contents, landing on a bottle of pills, grabbing it decisively, turning on his heel and storming to his bedroom.

 It was cold in there. Remus was rocking back and forth in a corner, his presence making the room freezing cold, not that the human seemed to notice. Poltergeists fed off fear and negativity, but it was overwhelming his senses, he was afraid.

 They were all afraid of what that meant.

 He sat on his bed. He looked at the bottle for a long, long, moment. The room held its collective figurative breath.

 “don’t. Love, it isn’t worth it. Whatever it is, whatever’s happened, this isn’t worth it.” Janus murmured voice caught in his throat, Logan resting a hand on his shoulder.

 “There’s nothing we can do.”

 “Something, there has to be something! Logan, we cannot just let him do this! He doesn’t know, he doesn’t understand!” Roman, who was kneeling on the floor by Remus, trying to steady him.

 “please Virgil. Come on, kiddo, come on, pull through.” Patton, who choked on his sobs, one hand covering his mouth as he shook, looking away as Virgil quickly downed half the bottle, before curling up on his bed, shivering and trembling.  

 “Oh, darling. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Janus pulled Patton into a hug, feeling his own tears falling through Patton’s sniffles.  

 “We couldn’t stop it. But we will be there for him, when he wakes up. He will not be alone, Patton.” Logan added, his own voice shaking, not protesting as Roman pulled him down, into a hug with him and Remus, whom latched onto him tightly. His presence always seemed to calm the poltergeist the fastest, for some reason.

 It wasn’t long, barely half an hour, when the human’s breathing ceased, his shaking stopped, his heart failed. Janus was sitting on the bed beside him, when it happened, a hand resting against his head, murmuring softly, hoping to bring some comfort to the human’s dying moments.

 Sometimes, in those last few minutes, the veil was lifted. Sometimes the humans could hear them, see them. He hoped Virgil could. He hoped he could feel he wasn’t alone, wouldn’t be alone. He hung his head as he felt it end, taking in a shuddering breath that he didn’t need, a habit, more than anything else, filling his phantom lungs.

 “It’s done.” He said, voice like a knolling bell, somberness once again filling the room in dark heaviness.

 “It will take a while for his spirit to form. It could be anywhere from five minutes to a few days, depending on-“

 “look.” Remus interrupted, his own voice shaky and small as he cut off Logan, who’s attention turned to the bed, and the dark, swirling cloud of shadow that was forming over it.

 “Kiddo?” Patton asked, softly, as the shadows began to coalesce into a rough form. He reached out, but before he could do anything, the shadows swirled into a dark vortex, and fled out the door, vanishing deeper into the house.  

[sanders-sides-inhuman-au]

Panel 1;

Thomas is relieved as he reaches the far end of the cave, "I guess they really were just stories."

Panel 2;

Thomas shines his light on Virgil and sees Roman playing dead too just as he was about to turn and leave (Horrifying to see without context)

Panel 3;

Close up of Thomas' eye, scared

Panel 4;

Close up of Virgil's eye, crying and scared too but there isn't a pupil so it's difficult to tell

Panel 5;

Thomas is scared stiff, to the point where he can't really move or scream like a petrified. Sweat drips off the side of his face and his mouth is hanging open

Panel 6;

Patton appears and an apparition of tap appears over Thomas' mouth, Patton tells Thomas "Do not scream." While in his poltergeist form

[anxiety-n-chill]

Sides as Mythical Creatures

Logan: Vampire

Patton: Fairy

Roman: Centaur

Virgil: Witch

Deceit: Poltergeist

[princeanxious]

Have a bit of a flash-fire inspiration formed analogical au set in a dystopian-type society that controls those with superpowers by using specialized collars that work to neutralize said users power’s affect on the outside world.

Virgil is one-such special case where his powers are so immense and nebulous that it cannot be pinned and neutralized by the specially made collars, but it can still act as a barrier between Virgil and his powers, and mask it from him entirely. Virgil has always believed his powers to be weak and useless as he’s had to wear neutralizing collars practically from birth. Considering their society wants to keep people from using their powers, they obviously don’t teach their citizens about how powers work. Its practically forbidden.

Logan is another special case, power-type wise, and his is much like Virgil’s in that it is not really containable or tangible in it’s presence, if that makes any sense? Very nebulous and raw with power. The only difference is that he and his parents escaped the society when Lo was young, and so he’s had years of experience and intense training to successfully utilize the many strengths his powers can give him. Now he stands in for his late-parents as the leader of the rebellion, trying to free many of the poor individuals, super-powered or not, from the corrupt government’s grasp.

Virgil and Logan have very rare super-types, and due to Logan’s existence as the rebellion leader and one of the only rebellious Powers that can and has infiltrated the government and societies’ highest guarded facilities for information time and time again without detection due to his very specific powered-traits, the government has been on the look-out for someone with a similar power-type to try and combat this rogue lawbreaker.

Unfortunately, Virgil becomes that unlucky someone.

Logan catches wind of Virgil just about as soon as the government does(bc he’s got ✨spies✨ within. lol) and its a race against the clock to find and rescue(or abduct, if he cant convince Virgil to join the resistance) Virgil before the government can get their hands on him and train him into the perfectly brainwashed super soldier they need. Logan succeeds in, as he always does, just an hour earlier than the enemy.(thankfully virgil has just enough time to pack all his essentials and what little valuables he does have)

And as a bonus, heres the progress video under the cut, with audio this time! (Cw: some flickering/flashing at points!)

Audio not mine, it’s the nightcore version of Poltergeist by Zatox and Nikkita(?)

Let me know what u thought of the video! I did a little editing w/ imovie bc i like the full progress videos but they loooong

[litandroses]

Book recommendations that deserve the spotlight

Compiling these as an underrated book lover myself!

The Green Bone Saga by Fonda Lee

Book one actually has a lot of ratings than the others in this list but I don’t see it talked about a lot.

It’s adult urban fantasy, Mafia-esque and intergenerational.

It has kung-fu, magic, politics, great morally grey characters, family dynamics, and worldbuilding. Also, GIRLBOSS! (no, not just one).

VERY INTENSE.

Author of color! Characters of color!

Robbergirl by S.T. Gibson

Stand-alone YA Fantasy. Snow Queen retelling.

Has less than 250 ratings on Goodreads.

Has SAPPHIC YEARNING.

QUEEN OF THIEVES “STEALS” A WITCH HOME WITH HER BECAUSE SHE WAS LONELY AND WANTED A FRIEND. SHE WAS SMITTEN WITH HER THE FIRST TIME SHE SAW HER.

ThE WRITING. THE ATTENTION TO DETAIL *CHEF’S KISS*

There’s a reindeer, a tame crow. ANIMAL COMPANIONS.

Dare I say slow-burn?

Masters of Death by @olivieblake

You may know her by her other book, The Atlas Six! (dark academia, sexy complex characters yup yup).

This one has less than 200 ratings on Goodreads.

Masters of Death is a whole other vibe.

Large cast of characters that work together so well (their banger was so funny too please).

This is quite difficult to describe, but basically it’s kind of like a mash-up of different fantasy elements. There are Greek gods, there are angels, a reaper, an aswang (one of the best things I like about this was the Philippine mythology, we don’t get a lot of those!), a poltergeist, and a lot more.

Also, personification of Death! And he’s called Papa? And whenever he curses he needs to snap a band over his wrist as a reminder not to do it again? (or at least do it less frequently 😂). Damn right it’s here.

There is a game. The only rule is: Don’t lose.

Beautiful writing, sexy characters. Diverse.

Author of Color!

The Burning by Evan Winter

Full of rage. Revenge story.

Non-European fantasy. Written by an Author of Color.

Epic battle scenes.

Look at that cover.

A lowly commoner driven by hatred and the want to prove himself (and those of his social class) no lesser than the upper class.

Women in positions of power. Only WOMEN can call dragons in this book.

INTENSE.

STRESSFUL.

WHERE WE FIGHT, THE WORLD BURNS.

Have I said dragons? I’m saying it again.

I haven’t seen a single edit of this yet. Help?

Fireborne by Rosaria Munda

YA fantasy.

Characters may be young but they’re mature. No pettiness here.

First book based on the “Just City” in Plato’s Republic. Second book’s reference is Virgil’s Aeneid.

Very political.

Explores how a generation would react to a regime shift.

DRAGONS. DRAGON BATTLES. DRAGON RIDERS.

Has Angst. Yearning.

The Wolf of Oren-Yaro by K.S. Villoso

Based on Philippine Culture and Mythology (again, we do not get a lot of those).

Iconic first line.

Main character called the Bitch Queen 🔥.

Bad-ass heroine.

Action-packed. Twisty.

Non-European fantasy.

Author of Color!

Burning Roses by S.L Huang

Novella.

Set in the East.

Older characters (old women in fantasy!).

Retelling of Red Riding Hood, Hou Yi, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, and Beauty and the Beast.

Latina and Chinese main characters.

Sapphic (yes, they have children).

The Sword of Kaigen by M.L. Wang

Military fantasy.

Japanese-inspired.

Elemental magic.

Dare I say milf? And also one of the best protagonists, like ever.

Heartbreaking, but also hopeful.

No dull moment.

Chapter 27, read to find out.

We Belong by Cookie Hiponia Everman

Less than 200 ratings.

Told in verse.

Middle grade (don’t restrict yourself).

Full of love.

Filipino author. Philippine history (Marcos era) woven with mythology.

Immigrant story. Made me shed tears.

Won’t take you more than an hour to read.

Alone With You in the Ether by Olivie Blake

Another Olivie Blake, of course.

Contemporary

A love story, but not a conventional one.

Intimate, painful, and also hopeful.

Philosophical.

Beautifully written (I mean it).

Great portrayal of mental illness.

What is it like to love someone who sees your ugly parts but still thinks you’re worth the fight? Read this.

[candied-peach]

ao3: “moving like a poltergeist” rating: T warnings: creativitwins, implied prinxiety maybe, mugging mention, minor character death, unsympathetic orange genre: humor/fluff description: Roman makes a mistake. His brother helps him make it right. (day 30: "People who die bad don’t stay in the ground.” — Beloved, Toni Morrison @tsshipmonth2020 )

"He'll come for you, you know," Remus tells his brother solemnly. Roman swallows.

"I know," he acknowledges. His fangs glisten in the moonlight when he opens his mouth.

It's messy. He never intended to kill Orange. Just incapacitate him. Roman caught him mugging a werewolf named Patton, someone who was a friend, and blind fury took over. It was a mistake.

Mistakes come back to haunt you.

"Have you ever heard of a vampire haunted by a ghost?" Remus asks, then cackles. Roman scowls at him. He knows how serious this is. Orange is destined to be one powerful poltergeist. He died violently, and he knows the source of his pain. Not good.

The moon dips beneath a flurry of clouds, and Roman's already cold skin chills even more. The fallen leaves skitter and unfurl down the street.

"Don't leave me," Roman blurts out, barely aware that he's saying it. Remus quickly grows somber again, one hand stealing out and seizing Roman's in a reassuring grip.

"I gotcha, bro," Remus murmurs. "No ghost is getting past us."

A trash can hurtles down the street, and Remus shoves Roman out of the way, just when it would have smashed right into him. Roman stumbles, nearly falling, before pivoting on his heels and facing a similarly disheveled Remus.

"Bastard!" Remus taunts. "That all ya got?"

"Remus, I wouldn't-" Roman starts to warn him, before the street light above them flickers and the bulb smashes, sprinkling broken glass on the sidewalk just next to Remus's feet.

"Now what?" Roman demands. Remus looks at him.

"Now we run," Remus says, grabbing his hand again and yanking him along to the symphony of destruction behind them.

"This is your plan?" Roman shrieks, as they run. "This is the worst plan I've ever seen, what-"

"No, my plan is to have a fucking exorcist come by, but he's late!" Remus pants. "Come on, Virge, where the fuck-"

"What on earth?" A new voice rings out, an oasis of calm among the chaos. Roman looks up to see a man slouched over in a purple-patched hoodie, his hands idly sketching out gestures in the air. Purple-dyed hair flops over green eyes, and a pointy chin stabs the air when he tilts his head in mild curiosity.

"Poltergeist after my bro's ass," Remus gasps out. "Please help."

"You owe me," Virgil says, heaving a sigh as he looks down the street. "Give me five minutes," he says over his shoulder, sauntering down. Roman nearly shouts after him to be careful before realizing how dumb that sounds.

It takes less than five minutes for the street's calm to reassert itself. Virgil strolls back, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, as Roman stares at him in slack-jawed wonder.

"Logan would have had it done in a minute," Virgil complains. "I'm getting rusty."

"Thanks, Virge!" Remus exclaims. "I owe ya one."

"Yes, you do," Virgil agrees. "I'd start cleaning up the street if I were you. It'll look better if you two do it."

"Right," Roman agrees, elbowing his brother in the ribs. "Thank you so much, I don't know how I could ever repay you."

Virgil grins.

"Let me think about it," he says, and with a lazy, two-fingered salute, he is gone. Roman realizes he's staring after him like an idiot when Remus elbows him in return, getting a grunt of pain.

"Let's go," Remus says reluctantly, as neighborhood chatter starts up once more.

"I hope I see him again," Roman remarks, his face blooming pink. Remus looks at him, then snorts.

"You need him," Remus says bluntly. "To get out of all the bullshit you put yourself through, Ro."

"Hey!" Roman exclaims. They argue until the sun starts to peek over the horizon.

[casart]

Hii I just read all ur posts to catch up and your art is so glowy and beautiful (~￣³￣)~ ❤️ could I join the spirit complex taglist?

Also question: do the ghosts have any abilities like flying out something?

You're doing such a great job, I love your creativity!!

Thank you!! I'm so happy you like my glowy art lol♡ absolutely I can add you to the taglist~

As for abilities; the ghosts generally can:

> float

> phase through solid objects

> extend their limbs

> be "summoned" (does this count as an ability?)

> use their energy to interfere w the living world (ex. Negative energies like anger can shatter fragile items nearby, or sadness can dramatically cause a room temperature to drop, etc)

> voice distortion (including ghostly wails)

> can grasp solid items if they are focused/determined enough (Remus does this often; being the poltergeist of the complex)

> transferring auras (ex. Virgil has an anxious aura - close proximity can cause the others to experience anxiety)

> emitting scents (ex. Janus smells of smoke and burnt flesh)

> being able to sense other ghosts whether human or not

[anthropwashere]

deadfic: Bang Babies got nothin’ on the Ghost Kid

More deadfic for @goodintentionswipfest! There was a post circulating on here once upon a time riffing on how OP Danny is compared to regular superheroes, so here’s about 4k of a Static Shock/Danny Phantom crossover that didn’t end up going anywhere.

=

The first time they see him, he’s just a black and white streak that nearly knocks them both out of the sky.

“Who—what was that?” Static gapes once he’s regained his balance. Green data splashes across Gear’s visor, obscuring his own incredulous expression.

“No idea, but they just clocked 154 miles per hour.”

“Well the speed limit here is only 45. Wanna pull ‘em over?”

Gear snorts. “If we can catch ‘em, sure.”

But whoever or whatever it was is long gone. After a week with no other sightings of ‘Flash Noir’ as they call the stranger, they let it go. Whatever it is will turn up, or it won’t. So long as no one’s getting hurt by it, it’s not really their problem, right?

=

The second time they see him is a week after that, and he’s hovering over the school roof just… watching. Other people see him too, and they all point and stare at the figure all in stark black and white, a teenage boy from the waist up and a ribbon of black from the waist down. 

Virgil and Richie share a mutual look of relief. They’d started to think they’d imagined him, never mind what Backpack had recorded. But when they look up at the roof again the kid is gone.

=

The third time they see him, he’s just a black speck barely glimpsed in the streaky post-rain evening sky. They only realize it’s him—and that he’s there at all—because Backpack catches him on the edge of its radar. He’s too high up, way too high up. The air’s just too thin for normal people—or normal bang babies, for what that’s worth. They try to get as close as they can anyway, but he blinks out of existence long before they can make out any details.

=

The fourth time they see him, he’s got a minivan and a corolla balanced in each hand like gravity’s got better things to do than pay him any mind. He’s holding them by the bumpers. Gear promptly loses his mind trying to figure out the physics behind such a feat, so it’s only Static that sees the guy toss a grin their way as he sets the two vehicles down on a stretch of road aways away from the car accident he’d apparently saved them from joining.

The strange kid waves at the families he’d saved, then takes off before Static and Gear can get near him. Backpack helpfully informs Gear that this mysterious guy encroaching on their hero turf clocked 60 miles in two seconds flat.

=

The fifth time they see him, he’s waiting for them in the junkyard looking infuriatingly smug. Static and Gear gape, then jump for him. It’s been starting to feel like chasing a mirage, but this time the guy stays put.

“Relax,” he tells them with a laugh and a lazy grin. “I’m not a bad guy.”

This close they can see he’s not any older than they are. He’d look like any normal kid, except for the glowing green eyes and shock of white hair fluttering in a breeze that isn’t there. 

“Then why are you stalkin’ us?” Static challenges.

“I wouldn’t say ‘stalk,’” the guy replies, defensive. “I’ve just never seen any other superheroes before. I was curious, that’s all.”

“I guess you don’t watch the news much,” Gear says, unimpressed. “You can go a day without hearing about a super making headlines somewhere.”

The kid’s grin turns uneasy. “I’m, uh, not actually from around here. Superheroes are a bit thin on the ground, where I’m from.”

“And where’s that, the North Pole?” Static asks.

The kid rolls his eyes. “Through an interdimensional rift in space four blocks from here. Hang a right past the Lovecraft reference and straight on ‘til morning.”

Static and Gear share an exasperated look.

“Look, kid,” Gear begins heatedly, only to be cut off.

“Oh no, no fair. You guys look like you’re still in high school too, so cut it out with the ‘kid’ stuff. The name is Phantom.”

Gear huffs. “Fine, Phantom. Point is we appreciate the help. You’re doing good work. But the superhero thing’s dangerous. You can’t just, y’know, jump into it.”

As if the two of them hadn’t done just that. But, y’know. It felt right to warn the guy, at least.

“It’s not a matter of ‘if’ you’ll get hurt if you stick with it,” Static adds. “And, okay, you might be new in town, so maybe you don’t know, but the two of us have got Dakota covered just fine.”

Phantom rolls his eyes, bouncing into the air. Gravity really doesn’t pay him any mind at all. How does he fly? Telekinesis? He does it like he’s so used to it the switch from standing to hovering is as natural as breathing. “Trust me, this city’s a walk in the park compared to what I deal with. Forgive me for seeing a chance to lend a hand to a couple of kids who clearly needed the help.”

“Now wait a minute—”

He drifts higher. “Oh, and by the way, there’s a guy calling himself Hotstreak waiting for you on ice by the community center. You’re welcome.”

“Wait—!”

But he blinks out of sight just like his name would suggest he could. There’s a pause as they both stare stupidly at thin air, then Gear swears. “‘On ice?’ Don’t tell me he’s got ice powers too.”

Phantom does, in fact, have ice powers too. Talk about overkill.

=

The sixth time Phantom makes an appearance, Virgil Hawkins is eating dinner with his dad and sister. He happens to glance out the window only to see a pair of neon green eyes staring back at him. Virgil drops his glass, yelping when milk splashes his mostly empty plate and spills into his lap.

“What’s the matter with you?” His sister asks.

“Uh. I—nothing! Nothing at all! I just—remembered that I, uh. Book report! I left my book report at Richie’s and I need to go get it!”

“Can’t it wait until school tomorrow?” His dad asks.

“No—no, it can’t, because I, uh, I still need to type it up and—and it’s due first period!” 

He runs out of the kitchen and out the front door before either of them can yell at him to clean up the mess he’d made. He stands on the stoop, panting and trying not to panic, and Phantom swoops into view upside down with that smug grin on his face again.

“Well hey there, sparky,” he says.

Virgil thinks he maybe has a heart attack, a little bit, before he finds the strength to speak. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” He yells in a furious stage whisper, grabbing the kid out of the air to drag him closer. “The first rule of superheroes is minding the secret identity thing, especially around family, and you just blew that right out of the water!”

Virgil’s hand goes briefly numb and Phantom slips out of his grasp. “I wouldn’t say ‘just,’” he replies, looking guilty.

Virgil’s gonna strangle him, he really is. “How long have you known who I am?”

“Wwwwwell, a couple weeks back I saw local heroes Static and Gear walk into an abandoned gas station and two normal teenagers walk out. I don’t know your real names and I didn’t know you lived here, I swear. I was just flying by and recognized your hair out of the corner of my eye. I swear,” he repeats hastily at Virgil’s murderous expression.

Virgil counts to five, then back down again, and is still just as pissed. “Fine. Okay. C’mon.”

He starts walking towards Richie’s house, because no way is he doing this on his own. Behind him Phantom asks, “Uh, where are you going?”

“We are going to R—Gear’s place. The three of us are gonna sort this out, and don’t you even think of pulling another one of your disappearing acts to get out of it!”

Phantom scoffs. “Oh yeah, because I’m so inconspicuous otherwise. Here, hold still.” He grabs Virgil’s shoulder and a chill washes over him. He startles, trying to pull away, but Phantom may as well have steel rebar for bones. Virgil looks down and yelps even louder than when he’d spilled milk all over himself; the ground has fallen away without even a rusty, trusty trash can lid underfoot. And speaking of feet, where are his feet?

“Augh, what? Whoa, no, let me go!”

“Quit squirming.”

Oh, no. He’s not getting the evil grunt orders fifty feet in the air. He grabs the hand he can’t see and sends a warning bolt. Phantom grunts, twitching. 

“Augh, easy sparky! Which way is Gear’s house?”

“How is this less inconspicuous you maniac? Put me down—and don’t drop me!”

“Oh, for—you’re invisible right now.” He looks up and there’s nobody above him, but he can hear Phantom all the same. “I pulled a disappearing act and brought you along. Seriously, man, I know I’ve been goofing off and setting you on edge, but I really didn’t mean to spy. You wanna talk to Gear about the blown cover thing—I really don’t know your names still, by the way—and I wanna come to an agreement.”

Virgil sighs. These bang babies all gotta stop being so crazy. But hey, at least this one doesn’t seem like he’s about to rob any banks. “Hang a right at this light.”

=

It is officially too weird to watch your own body reappear before your own eyes. Virgil shudders.

“First time with invisibility?” Phantom waggles his eyebrows. “How do you feel?”

“...Tingly. Warn me before you do that again, alright?”

“You just gave me blanket permission to do it again basically whenever, you realize that, right?” 

“Wh—I did not!”

Phantom rolls his eyes and phases through the roof. Seriously, there’s got to be a limit to how many spooky ooky poltergeist powers a guy can have, right? A moment later Virgil hears Richie yowling, and Phantom reappears with Richie in tow. He sets Richie down, gentle as you please, then promptly explodes.

Virgil recoils, blinking white light out of his vision. When he can see clearly again, Phantom is gone and there’s a regular teenager standing in his place, black-haired and fresh out of glowing green eyes. One forearm is bandaged from wrist to elbow.

“Wh-what?” Richie asks for the both of them.

The kid smiles, waving his uninjured hand. “Danny Fenton. It’s nice to see you without the visor.”

=

Turns out, Danny wasn’t kidding about being from a different dimension. He shows them the door he pops in and out of and everything. It’s an emergency exit of an old theater downtown, perfectly normal to Virgil’s eyes. Richie opens it. Rusty hinges squeal and Virgil can glimpse the vague suggestion of chairs in the dark.

“It only works if you’re focusing on the Ghost Zone,” Danny says.

“The what now?”

Richie shakes his head. “Oh no, no way. Please don’t tell me I’m talking to a dead guy.”

Danny laughs. “Nah, I’m basically as normal as either of you when I’m like this.”

Considering Virgil can do exactly as much damage as he can wearing his superhero gear, that’s not exactly comforting.

Danny nudges Richie aside, shuts the door and opens it up again. Just like that the theater’s interior is gone. There’s a hole in the world instead, bleeding radioactive green into the alleyway. There are hundreds—no, thousands—of violet doors floating in a green void that twists in dizzying shapes before his eyes. There’s no ground, no sky, it goes on forever in all directions.

“That—” Richie swallows. “That’s where you’re from?”

Danny shuts the door. Virgil tries to ignore the relief that makes jelly out of his knees, but dang, that really needed a better warning. “No, of course not. I’m from Earth, same as you. Just a, well, a slightly different one, I guess. A parallel one. That place is where ghosts come from. I only ended up here by mistake.”

“Take a left at the Lovecraft reference?” Virgil asks, rubbing his eyes. 

“Ha, pretty much. I was trying to escape the Lovecraft reference. That’s, uh, not what it’s name probably is? My friend Sam called it that and I can’t understand it, so, that’s kind of stuck. It’s got enough teeth to deserve being called ‘Lovecraft reference,’ anyway.”

“Sam?” Richie asks. “Is that someone else, uh, on your team?”

“It’s not really a team. She doesn’t have super powers or anything, if that’s what you mean.”

“That’s right, you said superheroes are thin on the ground where you’re from,” Virgil says. “So I guess it’s just you dealing with the big and toothy?” 

“Basically, yeah. Not a lot of opportunity to do what I did to get my powers.”

“What’d you—”

Danny holds up both hands. “Nope, nuh-uh. You’ve got your secrets, I’ve got mine.”

=

The seventh time they see Phantom, they finally see him in proper action. Ebon’s gang has struck a bank—Virgil’s big mouth and bad luck strikes a home run, as usual—and by the time Static and Gear arrive on the scene they’ve stolen a truck and are two blocks from the bank. Talon is flying overhead, keeping an eye out for cops or goody-good superheroes, while the rest of the gang’s inside.

They don’t stop to see who’s hurt. They’d passed an ambulance on the way, and it’s not like either of them are good for more than getting the injured to emergency care. They take chase, and the armored truck doesn’t make it another block before Gear’s knocked Talon out of the sky and Static has netted the truck in a web of electricity. It’s heavy though, too heavy for him to do more than keep its tires squealing in place and hoping Gear can gimmick up something to slow it down a little more. Ebon’s smart though. He’s not gonna pick a fight here, and Static will burn himself out long before the tires do.

“Gear!” He yells desperately.

“Working on it!”

But it’s Phantom that swoops in from nowhere, soaring down in front of the truck. He, impossibly, lifts the wheels off the street one-handed. It’s enough help to let Static focus his attention on popping the wheels off before releasing his net. He sinks to his knees, disc wobbling dangerously beneath him, catching his breath.

“I—hate—armored trucks,” he wheezes.

“Static!” Phantom calls out, startled, which means breaktime is over. He stretches his hand out and ties Shiv up with a nearby stop sign before he gets to his feet again. Phantom’s rushed off to help Gear with Talon who’s back in the air, which just leaves Ebon to Static.

Ebon slides out of the truck, an inky, glowering smear. “Who’s the new guy?”

“Friend from out of town. Why, you feelin’ like we’re not bondin’ like we used to?”

Ebon doesn’t reply, just slaps Static away. The air gets knocked out of him and he lands in a sprawl halfway down the street. Before he can recover he hears Talon scream. He slams his hands to his ears reflexively, but luckily she wasn’t aiming at him. Not so luckily, Gear and Phantom hit asphalt a few yards away.

“You okay?” Static calls out.

“I hate when she does that,” Gear complains too loudly, shaking his head like a dog and looking nauseous. Yeah, Static hates it too. He’d take getting slapped around by Ebon over having his hearing scrambled any day. 

Phantom springs up quicker than either of them, grinning madly. “She wants a screaming match, huh?” 

Gear looks as aggrieved as Static feels. “Do not tell me you can do that too.”

Phantom’s grin widens, eyes blazing, as Talon rejoins Ebon and Shiv at the armored truck. Shiv must’ve cut himself free of the stop sign at some point. Static makes a mental note to use two stop signs next time. The three of them are hauling bags out of the back, clearly planning on Ebon’s easy getaway trick to get at least some of the cash they’d stolen.

Static gets to his feet, zapping his disc underfoot again as he considers a half dozen strategies to take them out and not liking any of them. Ebon’s always been too slippery; it’s likely he’ll get away no matter what—

A hand claps down on his shoulder. 

“Stay behind me,” Phantom says.

“What are you—”

But there’s no time to finish asking what because Phantom takes a deep breath and wails. There’s waves of concentric neon green energy bursting from his mouth, radiating out and down to Ebon’s gang. The armored car, down two tires, goes shrieking and sparking down the street. Two parked cars follow after, their windows shattering, their frames buckling. Ebon, Talon, and Shiv don’t even have time to grab at their ears; they go down like bowling pins, and don’t get up again.

The click of Phantom’s teeth when he finally stops wailing seems awfully loud. Static feels like he just walked out of a concert he’d been too near the speakers at for; his ears are ringing, his hands and feet are tingling, and his chest hurts vaguely. He swallows, looks back at Gear who’s just shaking his head a little. He looks at Phantom; the kid’s got beads of green on his forehead and he’s breathing hard.

“Sorry,” his voice cracks a little, “That one’s kinda hard to put a lid on.”

=

After sorting out things with the police—which Phantom vanished for, literally—they invite him back to the gas station for what is, in essence, dinner and an interrogation. Richie declares he’s had enough surprises and Virgil agrees. So they stop to grab a couple of pizzas and manhandle Danny to the gas station. Danny lets himself be manhandled with no shortage of eye rolling.

“Sit,” Richie orders, shoving a paper plate laden with three slices of pepperoni into Danny’s hands. “Explain.”

Danny sits obediently, raising his eyebrows like he’s trying not to grin. “Uh, explain what?”

“You! Your ridiculous collection of powers, where you come from, why you’re not strutting around your weird parallel Earth or whatever as Grand High Emperor of—of everything!”

Danny can’t help the grin. Virgil’s hiding one behind a can of soda too though, so he can’t judge. “Grand High—what? Do you have one of those here?”

“Danny.”

“C’mon. We agreed on no details, didn’t we? This wouldn’t even be a conversation we’d have if you were the ones coming to my city.”

“We agreed to that when it seemed like you were just another souped up Bang Baby,” Virgil cuts in, “but this is getting ridiculous. I’m not sure I like the idea of Superman’s ghost charging through Dakota any time he feels like it, especially since supers tend to bring their problems along with ‘em.”

“If you want me gone, I’ll leave. I was just trying to give you guys a hand when things were slow in Am—my city.”

“We never asked your overpowered butt for help in the first place!” Richie snaps.

Danny opens his mouth to snap something back but his phone goes off instead. He glares at them both as he pulls it out of his jeans pocket, flipping it open. His eyes widen at whatever the text reads, he fires off a quick reply, then drops his uneaten pizza on the table. “Look, here I am, going. All right?”

“Trouble in paradise?” Virgil quips.

Danny ignores it, but stops halfway to the door to look back over his shoulder. His eyes are bright green, which Virgil’s learning means more trouble than it’s worth. “You know what? How about you come visit Amity Park with me?”

=

The Ghost Zone is just as dizzying as Static thought it would be, and in no time at all he’s hopelessly lost and he has a monster of a headache. It’s like he’d put his face right up against a neon sign no matter where he looks; just bright green smears and the odd clutter of purple doors. “Man, you sure you’re not lost?”

Phantom throws a grin over his shoulder. “Relax, I’ve done this plenty of times.”

“Is it even safe for, uh, regular people to be here?” Richie asks nervously. “I’m getting some bizarre readings here that Backpack can’t make heads or tails of. I feel like I should have nabbed a HAZMAT suit too.”

“My parents and friends have been in and out of the Ghost Zone dozens of times, and they’re totally fine.”

“Radiation poisoning can take decades to affect people,” Gear points out.

“Eh, so maybe they’ll glow in the dark or something twenty years from now. Ectology is kind of in its infancy. Anyway, we’re here.”

There’s a circular hole of swirling green, lighter than the fog around them and suspended in a solid looking riveted steel frame. Phantom holds up one hand to stop them, sticking his head through. “We’re good,” he says when he’s popped back out. “C’mon.”

Gear and Static share one last nervous look before following after.

They find themselves in some kind of high-tech basement done all out in sleek chrome, like a mad scientist’s lab out of a Saturday morning cartoon. There are beakers and flasks bubbling with syrupy neon green stuff, barrels with CAUTION stamped on the sides, and the kind of tables that wouldn’t look out of place in a flashy investigation show morgue. Static breaks out in goosebumps and can’t even pretend to play it off on it being a little chilly in here. 

“My parents built the Ghost Portal,” Phantom says, pointing back at the circle of green light still swirling behind them. “But I’m the one who made it work.”

Seeing the Portal on this side makes Gear’s breath hitch, and Static breathes out a stunned, “Whoa.” It’s an octagon framed by fat black and yellow caution stripes, easily fifteen feet in diameter. The Portal itself is identical to how it appeared on the Ghost Zone’s side, a constant dizzying swirl of toxic greens staining the enormous lab like some kind of mutant aquarium.

“Is this thing open all the time?” Gear stutters. “How is your family not dead? Heck, the whole city? This thing’s pouring out energy on a—I need to invent a new scale to quantify these readings just so I can make sense of them!”

Phantom laughs, grabbing a chrome cylinder glittering with green designs. “Don’t worry about it, seriously. My mom would know if it was, like, properly dangerous. Now c’mon, I want you to meet a regular of mine.”

=

Two more teenagers are waiting for them outside an evacuated post office. The girl, white with a distinctly Goth taste in clothes, gives Phantom a look that plainly states she thinks he’s nuts. “You didn’t mention you’d be bringing them through,” she says flatly.

The guy, black with thick-rimmed glasses and dressed like he can’t decide if he’s going for ‘frequents Starbucks’ or ‘military surplus’, rolls his eyes and waves. “Hi, I’m Tucker. That’s Sam. Don’t mind her, she’s just pissed the Box Ghost got the jump on her.”

“The one time I leave the house without a Thermos,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“Sorry about the wait.” Phantom says. “Guys, this is Static and Gear.”

“Charmed,” Static says automatically. Gear just grunts.

“Don’t need three guesses to guess who,” Tucker grins. “We can catch up later. You wanna do the honors, Danny?”

“Nah.” Phantom looks at Static and Gear, looking worryingly pleased. “I helped you out with the, what’s it, Ebon and Friends. Why don’t you take a crack at one of mine?”

[spicycreativity]

The Core Four (Logan, Roman, Virgil and Patton) are somewhere spooky, old house, in the woods, etc etc, and it's a place where poltergeist/demon/ghost/devil/spirit/whatever you want Remus resides and haunts and is scary and evil in. (Or they summon him) And he's like "Ooh time to mess with them muahahahaha!" but he sees Patton and gets like this "Cute boy!" And gets interested in Patton instead.

Boop

Words: 2k

Pairing: Pre-slash Intruality

Other notes: College AU, mild Vitaminwater slander, somewhat based on my own college experience of being straight edge and bored all the time and also owning multiple fist-sized chunks of quartz crystal purchased from the tent outside the gas station down by the on-ramp on the far side of town 🥴 Our abandoned dorm building was not haunted, tho

Content warnings: Mentions of underage drinking (not depicted), mentions of overdosing (non-graphic), Remus is sexually forward toward Patton, swearing, innuendo, etc. Still, I'd only rate this T

While it was rooming assignments that brought Roman, Patton, Logan, and Virgil together during the first weeks at university, it was their mutual unwillingness to break any sort of rule that kept them together. While their peers were drinking smuggled alcohol and racking up write-ups from the RAs, the foursome would sit on Logan and Virgil's side of the dorm suite drinking Vitaminwater and attempting to entertain themselves with board games and Netflix. This, predictably, got old quickly and weekends soon became a desperate battle to stave off boredom and existential ennui.

The fraying thread of Roman's patience finally snapped the night Patton suggested Pogs. The lack of adventure had chafed at him longer than it had the others and he secretly longed for some sort of thrill, even if it meant breaking the rules.

"Ugh," Roman threw himself backwards onto the pillow he'd stolen from Logan's bed, nearly knocking over Patton's mostly-full bottle of grape Vitaminwater. "We're seriously so lame that we can't think of anything better to do than Pogs?" 

"Hey," said Virgil from atop his bed, and shook a few drops of açai-blueberry-pomegranate sugar water onto Roman's forehead.

"Sorry, Patton," Roman added, wrinkling his nose at the unpleasant sensation. "No offense, but I'm just so bored! I was expecting more adventure when I finally left my dreary old hometown."

"I thought you told us you were from Los Angeles," Logan said, tossing a package of Wet Wipes down onto Roman's chest. "And Virgil, I understand why you would want to teach Roman a lesson, but please try not to stain my pillowcase."

"What do you wanna do, Roman?" Patton asked, adjusting himself where he was propped up against one of the legs of Logan's bed.

"I don't know! All I know is that I have the most boring Snap story out of everyone in my stupid 100-level History class. Remy went surfing the other day. And he's from Nebraska! How does he know how to surf?" 

"There it is," Virgil said.

Roman sat up again and opened up the Wet Wipes so he could clean off his face. "Lightning round! Suggestions. Go!" He pointed at Virgil.

"Um," said Virgil. "Uh-- Sca-- Uh, horror marathon. Horror movie marathon."

"Ugh, no." Roman pointed at Logan.

"Studying."

"Oh, come on. Patton?"

"We all go to bed early so we can wake up and get breakfast together before the dining hall runs out of waffle batter?"

"Guuuys." Roman pointed at Virgil again.

"Man, I dunno, Roman! Like I'm the expert in what looks good on a Snapchat story."

"You're the one who's bored," Logan added. "Why don't you suggest something?"

"That's not how it works!" Roman shot back. "I'm the-- the arbiter, the czar! You're the idea guys."

"Okay, fine!" Virgil leaned over the edge of the bed to better give Roman the evil eye. "How about we break into the shut-down dorms with a ouija board and try to contact the spirit of that kid who OD'ed in the bathroom?"

"That's the spirit," Roman said.

"Ha," Patton said weakly.

"Wait," said Virgil, already desperately trying to make eye contact with Logan. "I was kidding. You can't be serious."

"No, no, that's a great idea! Virgil, go get your ouija board and whatever other spooky shit you have tucked away.

"We're going now?" Patton squeaked.

Logan sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Roman, anything you post to your Snapchat story can potentially be turned in as evidence and used to incriminate you. I suggest you leave your phone behind."

"Wait!" Virgil ran his hands through his hair, agitated. "You can't possibly be on board with this."

"I'm not," said Logan. "I am offering Roman advice for the same reason high school nurses' offices offer condoms: not as an encouragement, but as a safety measure. Either we all agree to go now or we all agree to go tomorrow night after Roman spends the whole day pouting and whining--"

"Hey!"

"So I suggest we just get it over with," Logan concluded.

"Seriously?" Patton was already pale and shaking, holding a stray hoodie of Virgil's close to his chest.

"It's okay, Patton," Virgil said, offering him a reassuring smile. "I'll let you wear my horn of protection amulet."

It took just under an hour to get everyone changed into darker clothes and outfitted with protective symbols from Virgil's collection. In addition to silver amulets and charms, he had handed out fist-sized chunks of quartz crystal to all of them with careful instructions not to lose them, as he wanted everything back at the end of the night.

But soon (all too soon for Patton) they faced the looming silhouette of the abandoned Monroe Hall. It was in surprisingly good repair despite the lack of security cameras and floodlights to deter intruders. In fact, the only light came from the blue emergency callbox situated a few yards down the path.

"We, genius," Virgil said, turning to Roman. "How do we get in?"

"I don't know!" Roman tossed up his hands. "I'd Google how to pick a lock but somebody" --he glared at Logan-- "made us leave our phones in the microwave."

"I already told you, it's a functional Faraday cage and--"

"Yeah, yeah, how about we save the science lectures for 8:00 am on Tuesdays and Thursday," Roman said.

"That was oddly specific," Virgil muttered, trying and failing to exchange a glance with Patton, who was staring at the ground and turning over the quartz crystal in his hands. "Wait, I've got an idea." He took his own chunk of quartz out of his pocket and slammed it through the glass door, sending a shower of tempered glass clattering onto the tiled floor inside. Then he stepped through the hole and beckoned the others in after him. "Let's go."

Patton made a muffled sound of fear and grabbed onto Logan's arm.  "You don't really think there's a ghost, do you?"

"Of course not," Logan said, leading Patton inside and following Virgil to the stairs.

"Wait!" Roman jogged ahead to lead the charge. "Are we not gonna talk about Virgil just--"

"Found a broken door and stepped through it?" Virgil interrupted, bumping Roman with his hip. "No, we are not."

Roman led them up a flight of stairs and down a corridor similar to the one in their own dorm building. All the doors they tried were locked, so they set up the ouija board in the hallway outside the bathrooms.

"Okay, gang," Virgil said once they were all sequestered around the board. "Pointer fingers on the planchette."

"Not our whole hands?" Roman asked.

Virgil shot him a sideways glare. "I'm sorry, are you the expert on the occult?"

"Are you?" Roman asked.

"Relative expert," Virgil said, sticking out his tongue. "Now. Pointer fingers on the planchette."

"I really don't know if this is a good idea," Patton said, extending a shaking hand.

"You should be more afraid of campus security," Logan said. "Although from the state of the building, it appears that we are the first to successfully enter."

"Nothing's happening," Roman complained, his eyes on the planchette.

"We haven't asked a question yet, genius," Virgil sneered.

"It seems rude to barge into someone's house and just start asking questions," Patton said. He looked up, addressing the ghost. "Hi!"

The planchette jerked and began to shake. Anticipating Virgil's accusation, Roman held up his other hand. "It's not me!"

"Shut up!" Virgil snapped. "It's moving."

They read the letters out loud together as the planchette began to move around the board: "N-I-C-E." Pause. "C-O-C-K."

"Oh, come on." Virgil grabbed the planchette and threw it at Roman's face. "Not funny."

"I swear that wasn't me!" Roman said, smacking the planchette down. It clattered across the board and came to a stop by the number '2.'

"Roman," Patton chided, "it's really not nice to mess with us like that."

"You too?' Roman said. He turned to Logan. "Come on, Specs, you know it wasn't me."

"I know it wasn't a ghost. I know it wasn't me. I know Patton and Virgil aren't likely to make that sort of joke. Therefore, I can safely posit that it must have been you. Although I wouldn't make an accusation without more evidence."

"Oh, come on!" Roman put his hand on the planchette despite Virgil's noise of protest. "Hey, spirit. Can you do something else spooky so my friends stop accusing me of--"

What happened next was equal parts anticlimactic and chilling: Roman's eyes turned green and began to emit a gentle glow. He was silent for only a moment before turning to Patton with a chipper smile. "Hey, hot stuff! Nice cock."

"Whoa" said Virgil, scrambling backwards toward the wall. "What the fuck."

"He invited me in!" said Roman, or more accurately, the ghost possessing Roman's body.

"Oh my God," Patton said. "That's not Roman."

"Yeah, no shit!"

"I'll give him back in a minute," said the spirit. "I just had to shoot my shot with hottie over here. What's your name, sugar?"

"Uh," said Patton, glancing wildly at Virgil (who was fumbling in his pocket for his holy water or his salt, whatever he found first) and Logan (who was actively blue-screening). "Patton?"

"Nice to meet you, Patton." The ghost stuck Roman's hand out for a shake. "Name's Remus. Has anyone ever told you you're kinda DILF-y for a college student?"

"N-no?"

"Well, you are."

"Thanks, I guess." Patton sat back and pulled his legs up to his chest in an unmistakably defensive pose. "Um, is there something that you wanted, Remus?"

"I already told you!" Roman's face beamed in a way it never had before, his eyes twitching strangely in their sockets. "I just popped in to shoot my shot. So?"

"He's propositioning you," Logan hissed. 

"I…" said Patton, panic whiting out his mind. Unable to find words, he held up his left hand to show off the silver band on his ring finger.

"You're married?" Roman's body leaned forward to read the engraved writing. "True love waits."

"It's a purity ring," Virgil explained, finally extricating a small vial from the tangle of cords and chains in his pocket. "And this is holy water."

"Wait," said Remus, "are you guys exorcising me? Cause I swear I'm gonna give you your friend back. I'm dead, not evil. Also," he turned to Patton, "is that a no?"

"Yes!"

"Wait, so you do wanna bang?"

"No!"

"Alright, alright, damn." Remus leaned Roman's body back, putting up his hands in a defensive gesture. "You know, I was gonna go full poltergeist and try to see if I could make you all cry, but I changed my mind when I saw Hot Pat-tato. Soooo, you're welcome."

"Yeah," said Virgil, "I'm not sure we should be thanking you for taking over our friend's body. Give him back, by the way."

"Wait!" said Patton. "Remus, why aren't you at rest? Is there something we can do to help you move on?"

"Nah," said Remus. "To be honest, I just wanted to haunt the crap out of some dumb college kids."

"Need I point out," Logan said, "that you are also a dumb college kid?"

Virgil looked around at the empty halls, walls of closed doors, the dusty spiderwebs hanging like streamers in the corners. "Wait. There's nobody to haunt."

"Yeah," said Remus. Roman's shoulders shrugged. "It's been kinda lonely and boring. 

"Sucks to suck," Virgil said, brandishing the sealed vial of holy water. "Okay, time to go."

Remus sighed and crossed Roman's arms over his chest. "Fine. I didn't really want to haunt you guys anyway."

"I might…" Patton twisted up his mouth thoughtfully, rubbing his fingers along the quartz crystal in his pocket. "Maybe I'll come back and say hello sometime."

The grin that unfurled across Roman's face was so familiar that Patton nearly hugged him. But his eyes were still that slightly luminescent green, still twitching and rolling like he was trying to take in every detail of the world all at once. "Really?"

Patton nodded and held out his hand palm-up. Roman's hand was icy, but Patton forced himself not to flinch as he brought his head down and kissed Remus' knuckles. "Really."

For a moment, there was silence. Then came a gentle warmth, and confused brown eyes staring down at Patton, who only had time to gasp before Roman tilted his head in confusion. "Um, Patton? Why are you holding my hand?"

[izzyfandoms]

The Core Four (Logan, Roman, Virgil and Patton) are somewhere spooky, old house, in the woods, etc etc, and it's a place where poltergeist/demon/ghost/devil/spirit/whatever you want Remus resides and haunts and is scary and evil in. And he's like "Ooh time to mess with them muahahahaha!" but he sees Patton and gets like this "Cute boy!" And gets interested in Patton instead 

Intruality - Demon

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @aj-draws @phantomofthesanderssides @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @emo-disaster @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgremlin @aroaceagenderfluid @birdsbookshiddeninrealbirdsskin @quirkalurk @gingers-trashy-stuff @iinyxtello @justaqueercactus @melodiread @mrbubbajones @glassferns @pun-master-logan @gayturtlez @k1ngtok1

Masterpost

"Aha! Oh, it has been so long since I last escaped hell!" Remus cackled, stretching his arms and legs and extra octopus tentacles, as he stood in the centre of the circle. "I cannot wait to- oh, damn, you are a snack."

Patton blinked, startled, as the demon grinned down at him. He almost had the instinct to cower in fear - especially with such a terrifying, inhuman-looking man staring down at him - but, also, he was attractive.

Virgil yelped. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit! I told you, I told you guys not to do this. I told you. We are so dead!"

Remus scoffed, waving his hand dismissively but never taking his eyes off of Patton.

"I don't eat people, tasty as you might be. So don't get your panties in a twist, emo."

"How do you know what an 'emo' is?" Logan asked, more curious than anything else. "By your initial words, I would have assumed that you have been in Hell for a long time? I would not expect you to understand more colloquial terms."

"There's emos in hell." Remus said. Then, he leant in closer to Patton. "I'm Remus, by the way. But you can call me whatever you like."

He held out his hand towards Patton, and Patton automatically reached his hand out, too. Virgil yanked it back before he could shake it, though.

"Don't! He might steal your soul!"

Remus cackled in respose. "Me? Dealing with souls? Nah, too much paperwork."

"There's paperwork involved?" Logan asked.

"Yeah, and it's boring! I don't care for that shit at all. I usually deal in the torture. You know, all that fun stuff."

"Torture!" Roman exclaimed, his hand placed over his heart. "That's barbaric!"

"Uh, what do you think happens in hell, genius? It's where the bad people go to suffer for eternity. You know, like, pedophiles get their junk crushed, murderers get their eyes gouged out and stuffed up their-"

"Okay, enough!" Patton waved his hands in front of his face, wrinkling his nose and screwing his eyes tight shut, like the things Remus had said were happening right in front of his face. "Please stop!"

Remus gave him a curious look, tilting his head and watching Patton like he was a particularly confusing puzzle.

He hummed, but before he could think of anything to say, Roman spoke again.

"So, what are you doing here, foul demon?"

Remus's head snapped towards Roman, his neck making an audible cracking sound as he did so.

"You summoned me."

"We did?" Roman asked, confused.

Virgil huffed. He crossed his arms and glared at Roman. "I told you we shouldn't have completed the circle! You dumbass, princey, I said that the warning signs were there for a reason."

"How was I supposed to know that demons were real?!" Roman exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air.

"Kiddos, kiddos," Patton said. "Please don't fight!"

"So... I'm not here for any reason? Cool, means I can do what I want 'til someone summons me back." Remus stretched again, before grinning and winking at Patton. "That means I'm available to do anything you want, hotstuff."

[98prilla]

To The Dead

Previous

Next

AO3

TW talk of death, injuries, violence, blood, emotional manipulation

...

It was Roman, who had the next encounter with the newest ghost. He was drawing in the living room, when he heard a soft noise, a soft whoosh, the sound that usually accompanied one of them entering the space. He didn’t think anything of it, assuming it was just Logan, who tended to be quiet, or Remus, trying to sneak up on and startle him.

 After a moment of no other noise, he turned around, brow creasing as he saw no one there. He shrugged and went back to his drawing, only stopping when he heard another small sound, and he froze, catching a flicker of shadow out of the corner of his eye, from behind the couch.

 “Virgil?” He asked softly, careful not to turn his head, not to look directly at his hiding place, the shadows sparking slightly faster at his words. “Hey, hey, it’s ok. I’ll stop talking to you, I didn’t mean to scare you.” The shadows started to calm, and he could see his outline slowly stabilizing. He went back to drawing, letting the silence linger, letting them both settle, before he grabbed a pen and piece of paper, and slid it backwards, under the couch to the edge of the wall. “I know you like to draw. I always loved watching you. You made amazing things, Virgil.” He said gently, kindly, trying to convey all the warmth and empathy he felt for him in those simple words, wishing he could reach out to him. But that would only make him run.

 Instead he turned his attention back to his own drawing, those his ears were attuned to behind the couch, smiling slightly as he heard the tell tale scratch of pen against paper.

 It was hours later, when he felt something hit his leg. He looked down, seeing the pen and paper, hearing whoosh of Virgil vanishing as he picked up the ink drawing, if he had any breath, it would have been taken away. It was a portrait, of himself, his face drawn and serious, his cavalry sabre drawn and pointed skyward, eyes reflected in its sheen. He pressed it to his chest, smile tugging at his lips. Quickly, he scribbled a small thank you, and tucked it back behind the couch. Hopefully, Virgil would find it there, the next time he popped in. The drawing now hung front and center above the desk in his room.

Their astral space had shifted to accommodate a new ghost, of course. They did all still like a little privacy, a quiet space to call their own, to decorate with items summoned from memory, or copies of things that resided in the actual physical space of the house that they’d interacted with or seen, and their abode reflected that, creating rooms for each of them. A sixth now lined the hallway.

 The change was slow, at first, but by the next week, it was plain to see. The door was darkening, changing, a deep violet color creeping up the previously plain paint. It could only mean one thing, and that was that Virgil was actually using it, spending time in there, the space being influenced by his presence.

 But he still hadn’t come out. He refused to respond to them, no matter who it was at the door. Janus’s gentle words, Patton’s soft kindness, Roman’s stubborn talkativeness, Logan’s calm tone, did nothing to coax him out of the room. Sometimes, they heard him moving inside, heard him sniffling or crying, and it broke Patton’s heart.

 Virgil had been so young, just twenty, he’d had his whole life ahead of him, and one person had made him so sure he was an utter waste that he was convinced he’d done the best thing by dying. All he wanted was to hold Virgil in his arms, comfort the poor boy, his paternal instincts were kicked into overdrive and it was driving everyone, including himself, mad. It certainly didn’t help the tense worry that had settled over their odd little household.  

 Virgil was curled in the corner of what he supposed was ‘his room’, now. It was dark, deep shadows cloaking every corner of the space, walls a deep violet that was nearly black, ceiling unviewable through the cloudy smog that hovered up there constantly. A bed had formed against one wall, and he was wrapped in the thick purple black plaid comforter.

 Janus was right. It was easier to hold his form in this space, the astral plain, he’d called it. Whenever he did slip back to the physical plain, he turned into a pulsing orb of darkness, which was weird, and definitely would take some getting used to. It didn’t feel… bad. Just different. It was like his mind and thoughts and consciousness were all that he was, like he could see 360 degrees, everything around him all at once, but it wasn’t disorienting or overwhelming, like he would’ve thought. It was like his mind was in overdrive, processing everything, and he couldn’t focus on forming his limbs, making himself any kind of presentable. Not that he cared. Was easier to hide, keep out of the way, as a blob of shadow, anyways.

 It was quiet outside his door right now. They must have given up, for the moment. Hopefully for good. He wished they’d just stop trying. He didn’t deserve their care and attention, he wished they’d stop wasting their time and effort on him.

 His body was gone. He didn’t know by who or how it had been found. He’d probably been missing long enough He had called the police, or come looking, he hadn’t cared to check. He’d heard the disturbance, felt it, but he ignored it. It didn’t matter. They could throw his body in the dump for all he cared, it wasn’t like it meant anything, anymore.

 Not like anyone would come to his funeral, anyway. His family was all dead. He didn’t have a job. When he was in school he’d worked a few part time ones, but his anxiety kept getting him let go. And when he was with Him, he wouldn’t let him get one. Didn’t want him screwing up and having it all come back on Him. Of course, He’d also always complained about how little he contributed to their relationship, then got angry when he brought up the job thing, so he’d just stopped mentioning it, after a while.

 Just another proof of his cowardess.

 “Watcha doin?” He hissed, jumping five inches in the air, form wavering for a moment at the spike in fear, nearly slipping back to the physical plain from the startle. After a moment, he stabilized, glaring up at the ghost hovering upside down in the air, walking along the foggy clouds of the ceiling, green eyes aglow.

 “Which one are you?” He asked, and the ghost tsked.

 “Nuh uh, I asked you a question first, my miasmic musketeer.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, tugging on the ends.

 “Question for a question? Fine. But I reserve the right to pass on anything.”

 “Fine, but if you pass, I get a free pass on whatever question I want. Now spill it! Watcha doin? Cause it looks a loooot like moping.” He spluttered at that, scowling.

 “I’m not moping. I’m just… thinking. Now, who are you? I haven’t heard your voice through the door.”

 “Remus is what I go by. Don’t remember why I chose it. Probably just liked the sound.” Remus shrugged, slowly cartwheeling through the air. “Why haven’t you opened the door?”

 “Pass.” Virgil choked out, shadows sparking off his edges.

 “Boo, already? You’re no fun.” Remus pouted.

 “How’d you get in here? I thought no one could get in.” Remus shrugged.

 “They can’t. I can go wherever I want. And I wanted to see what you’d done with the place, so I came in.”

 “Wait, why can you-”

 “Uh, uh, uh, not your turn!” Remus sing songed, and Virgil groaned, sinking further into his blanket. “Now, why won’t you go meet the rest of them?” Virgil’s eyes flickered, voice echoing as he answered.

 “Pass. Why can you get in here and they can’t?”

 “They’re ghosts. I’m a poltergeist.” Virgil’s brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to ask a question, surprised as with a flick of Remus’s wrist, his jaw clicked shut, stuck that way.

 “You are terrible at following the rules. Logan would like you, all those curious questions rattling around. He knows all about ghosts and poltergeists, if you’d talk to him, he could answer all your questions. Wouldn’t even make it a game. So. Why won’t you talk to him?” Virgil glowered for a moment, before Remus grinned, teeth sharp and eyes swirling, as he flicked his wrist once more, unclenching Virgil’s jaw.

 “Don’t do that again.” He growled, Remus’s smile growing. “and what do you care, whether I speak to them or not?” He asked, barely containing the whispering chorus behind his words.

 “I don’t, really. But it’s no fun playing by myself, and they’re all too torn up about you to pay any attention to me. I’ve made the walls bleed, ooze sticky black ichor, tentacles come out of the toilet bowl, flies hatch out of the floors, and nothing! Not a single scream, or scolding, or lecture, or anything! Do you know how frustrating that is? These things take time, people, is too much to ask for a little acknowledgement?!” Remus bemoaned, landing on the floor, angry scowl on his face. “And it’s all because you won’t stop sulking.”

 “Well I’m sorry I don’t feel up to socializing at their pity party for me, I don’t want their attention, and the sooner they get that and give up, the sooner everything can go back to normal for you!” They both paused as they heard a noise outside the door, likely Logan, based on the quiet hum of thought and sound of page turning. Virgil yelped as Remus’s eyes glowed, and he found his body moving without his permission.

 “What are you doing?” he hissed, feeling like a clumsy marionette.

 “If you won’t open the door, then I’m opening it for you.” He sucked in a breath as he took a stumbling step forwards, fighting the control.

 “Remus. Stop.” He gritted out, feeling dizzy.

 “Ummmm, let me think about it. No. Unless…”

 “Unless what?”

 ��Unless you give me a good reason why.” He growled, trying to spin back around to face Remus, only succeeding in forcing himself to a standstill, his anger countering Remus’s power, his shadows finally exploding outward in rage after a long moment of silent battle as he rounded on Remus, sparks flying off him, his form growing and shifting, becoming a void of light as he glared, bared his teeth, growls and hisses and distant distorted screams echoing from deep in the growing shadows.

 “I don’t need a good reason. I don’t need to justify myself to you. I don’t need to justify myself to them. I don’t need their pity. I don’t need their care. I don’t want it. I don’t deserve it. So if you could tell them all to shut up and leave me alone, that would be great!” Virgil screamed, a thousand voices bouncing off the walls, the noise overwhelming, deafening, the growls turning to roars.

 Not much could overwhelm Remus. Not much had the power to. But the darkness that swept him up, consumed him in twisting, fracturing nothingness, the endless noise so loud it was silent, the empty, swirling void of dread that filled his stomach, clouded his mind, sunk into his soul, scared him, and with the force of a hurricane, he let the dark tide carry him, spit him out, hearing a yelp from Logan as the door slammed open, the tide smashing Remus against the wall before retreating, retracting, vanishing back underneath Virgil’s skin, his form solid despite the fear and anguish rolling off him, strong enough it made Remus shudder and Logan recoil.

 “what’s wrong, Remus? Am I scaring you?” Virgil asked, voice a duet of deep bass and high keening, darkness swirling just below his paper pale skin, his eyes dark voids of emptiness, head tilted to the side, a dark smile on his lips as he stepped forwards, tilting Remus’s chin up from where he had slumped against the wall. “Can’t take what you dish out?” Remus shuddered again at the wash of desperate fear that clouded his mind, transferred from Virgil to him.

 It set his mind aflame. It burned him up from the inside out, images and thoughts flashing through his mind so fast he could barely keep up with them. Fears, he realized. His fears. Roman, bayonet through his stomach, gurgling on his own blood as he slowly drowned on dry land. Janus, hands wrapped around his throat, crushing it, breaking it, until his airway collapsed and his eyes closed, lips turned blue. Logan, neck bent at an unnatural angle, eyes open and glassy, a trickle of blood escaping the corner of his mouth, body twisted and bruised and bleeding. Patton, his spirit slowly breaking, his heart cracked in two as his life faded into grays, colors draining out of his life, phantom laughter of a little girl echoing in the emptiness, cold emptiness beside him in a too large bed, until it devoured him completely and he took the pills, gave in to the darkness, clutching a family photo to his chest.

 “please. Virgil, stop. Please.” His voice was hoarse. He wasn’t sure if he’d been screaming or not, but it certainly felt like he had, gasping as Virgil’s hand drew back as if burned, tears tracking down Virgil’s face, mouth opening and closing several times, before he staggered backwards, clutching at his own head, shaking it vehemently.

 “you wanted to know why I wouldn’t open the door.” Virgil choked out, shaking as his eyes returned to their normal dark violet, arms wrapping around himself as the roaring, raging shadows vanished back to the corners of his room. He felt about two seconds away from collapsing, dizzy and weak, trembling from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. “well, now you know. I’m just… just a monster. Just… just stay away. It’s safer for everyone. Just leave me alone.” He near begged, feeling sick, at what he’d just done, what he’d made Remus see, what he’d seen from Remus, it was stuck on repeat in his mind, stuck on a loop, and his not necessary breathing hitched in response to the panic creeping up his spine. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, slamming the door closed, collapsing onto his bed, weakly managing to summon the comforter to him from where it had been discarded on the floor, curling into a tight ball underneath it, too numb and drained and dizzy to do anything else.

 Silent tears slipped down his face as he closed his eyes, dread haunting his every moment as the shadows of the room descended upon him, wrapping him in their cold embrace, purposefully drawing them to him so they wouldn’t slip under the door and go torment the others. He wouldn’t let them do that. They didn’t deserve to deal with his bullshit, if he was going to be the monster, the villain, the bad guy, he was going to be his own worst enemy. He was not going to hurt the others, not even Remus, not ever again.

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Out of the House

Series summary: Ever the paranormal enthusiast Remus is excited when he finds an abandoned house creepy enough to have ghosts in it with no chance of being caught trespassing. He quickly finds himself in over his head however when his fantasies come true, fighting to solve a mystery with the only possible outcome being losing someone he comes to love.

Platonic dukexiety focus

This series was created for dukexiety week 2021. I’m posting after but here is the list of prompts!

Chapter 2: I’ll be by Your Side

Chapter Summary: Remus goes back to the house in the hopes of making contact with the entity the resides in it. Unsurprisingly, his attempts are not appreciated.

Pairings: Platonic Dukexiety (Remus & Virgil), background Lociet (Logan x Janus)

Day 1 Prompt: Swapping

Warnings: mild swearing, mild sexual innuendos, injury and violence, distorted text, paranormal events. If there are others please let me know!

WC: 3441

AO3 link

Main masterlist

Remus fumbled for the light as he shot up in bed, bloodshot eyes fighting through the urge to close as he scanned every corner of the suddenly too bright room. This had been the routine every hour on the hour no matter how much he tried to ignore the growing paranoia and simply stay asleep. The task, as it turned out, was much easier said than done when phantom glass still pricked at his skin and echoing screams rang in his ears so loudly tik could hardly sort his own thoughts out if tik could concentrate enough to have any. Finally satisfied that the shadows weren’t hiding anything Remus allowed tiks head to drop into his hands, groaning in frustration and kicking the tangled blankets off his legs. He doubted he’d be able to get any more sleep of any decent quality so tik may as well just get up and get the day started. It would be a long one after all.

The clock on the stove glared a bright 4:30 in his face accusingly as tik went about getting the coffee pot cleaned and set up. Logan always said the way he used it would break it or tik sooner than later but after three years it still worked just fine so he had no problems patting down three cups of bustelo espresso into the filter and letting it run through before pouring the brewed coffee back into the back and allowing it to brew through the grounds a second time, filling the apartment with the scent of strong slightly burned heaven.Too much creamer in a mug the size of a cereal bowl later and he was sat down on the old couch Roman had let him keep when they moved out of their dorm, computer booting up on the table as he absently dug between the cushions for a fidget toy he knew had to be lost someone in the abyss.

Abandoning the fetch quest to bring up google he stared at the screen intently for a few moments tryin to figure out exactly what it was he was trying to figure out. He’d seen the ghost shows, been to scenes, read the spooky and “informative” books- he thought he had known what he would do if he ever actually saw a ghost in real life. Now that he had...obviously tik didn’t know the first thing about anything. It had to be a poltergeist that much tik knew. They were violent and loud and could manipulate their surroundings, even if in all the supposedly real footage he’d ever seen that wasn’t part of a show there had never been anything quite as destructive and hostile as the being in that house. 

But it was a starting point and that would have to be enough for now. Maybe tik could just…

Okay well, typing in “poltergeist” yielded nothing but cheesy movies. He already knew what one was so a definition wouldn’t help…maybe “how to calm a poltergeist?”

Poltergeist activity typically starts with minor isolated incidents. Remus snorted as tik reached p to tug on his bandaged ear. Typically yes, but this wasn’t tiks wallet being misplaced every now and again. Clicking off the article he scrolled down a bit until he came to another that sounded a bit more promising. Establishing Contact With the House Entity. A bit more on the nose than he would have thought was necessary but sometimes the more obvious something was the more straightforward information you could find.

While there are many ways to know whether or not there is a presence in your home the first signs usually start out subtle. General uneasiness is among the most commonly reported- as well as a feeling of being watched or perhaps seeing something flicker just outside the limits of your vision- on;y to find as you turn your head that nothing is waiting for you to find. When it comes to feeling safe within your home it’s best to trust your gut when things feel amiss, and trust it as soon as possible no matter how “crazy” you may think the feelings are. Better to accept a spirit or ghost has entered your life and deal with it as soon as possible than to be too late to do anything at all should things take a turn for the worst.

Rolling tiks eyes at the wording, Remus grabbed up his coffee mug only to realize he must have drained it already without realizing, sighing heavily before getting up for a refill. The apartment was quiet and while tik normally didn’t mind it was setting him on edge this morning, the walls seeming to creep closer anytime he wasn't looking and threatening to trap him in a prison with nothing but his thoughts. Thoughts of shadows that caught his ankles and glass filled winds that ripped his face and shredded his eyes so he couldn’t tell what was real or not while the walls pressed his arms painfully against his ribs until they popped like old sticks and his lungs floated like balloons to escape the hell he had created and still the screaming continued to get louder and louder until it deafened him with blood dripped down his neck and nothing but the vibrations against his skin indicated that they were still screaming to get out get out get-

Remus jerked his head up and startled as his phone peeled away from his face and fell to the floor, still vibrating merrily oblivious of his distress. Looking around confused he straightened his back the rest of the way, groaning in pain as tiks spine popped from his bent in half position he’d been holding for god knows how long. Rubbinghis eyes he remembered his phone and snatched it up just as it stopped vibrating, five missed calls and a few texts filling the home screen all from Janus who as far as Remus could tell had gone from scolding him for sleeping in to asking in his sarcastic/worried way if he had died at the house yesterday and if he should check on tiks ghost. 

Checking the time revealed it was currently 9:00, which meant that not only was he an hour late for the only class he has that day but that there would honestly be no point in going so he may as well just act sick and hope Janus wouldn’t be suspicious. He last thing he needed or wanted was getting an “I told you so” about how ghost hunting was going to make him sick with stress one day and he needed a proper sleep schedule and no coffee doesn’t count towards daily hydration and stop double brewing it, you’ll die of a heart attack at twenty-five. Pressing tiks lips in a thin line he shot a text apologizing and saying he had over-exerted himself running so much yesterday so he’d stayed home to rest. A bit of a stretch considering he’d been in track for long enough that a couple of full out sprints with obstacles in one day really wouldn’t have done much but Janus didn’t know that....probably.

-----

The most effective way to establish contact would be through something simple. A twist on/off flashlight is a good place to start as long as you’re clear with your intentions. Turn it on and do a wide sweep of the room you suspect the entity is in, stating in a clear voice that “on means yes and off means no”. Ask clear, deliberate questions while paying attention to the flashlight- the simpler the question the easier the entity will find it to respond. Any electrical equipment you can get- voice and EVP recorders, cameras, thermometers, infrared detectors- anything and everything you have at your disposal can and should be used. The more data there is to work with the closer you’ll be to figuring out what you’re dealing with and how to get it to leave.

The rest of the article had devolved into talk about smudging and priests and offerings to get the spirit to move on- none of which Remus would be using unless whatever it was expressed interest in doing so. He just wanted to know what and who it was and maybe figure out why they had stayed so long after the house had emptied. There was a story there, tik knew it, and his curiosity wasn’t about to let it go until he knew as much of it as possible. 

He adjusted his motorcycle helmet one last time before stepping into the house and  quietly shutting the door behind him. If tik was going to be attacked again tik was going to make damn sure he’d leave with minimal injuries and both of his eyes- he still couldn’t quite shake the nightmare from this morning and for once would rather take the safe route than risk getting blinded by a glass tornado- ignoring the question of how he would even explain that at the hospital. The house was silent and still, no indication that there had ever been anything in it all yesterday save for the scuffed boot marks beside the wall where he had scraped tiks soles against it trying to get away from the stairwell.

Said stairwell was cheerily lit as usual, sunlight streaming through the ruined window and spilling over the steps in a way he’d find ironically funny if his hands weren’t shaking slightly at the mere thought of trying to climb them. Protecting his face from glass wasn’t the only reason he had worn the helmet; he had surmised earlier that the easiest way to communicate with the ghost would be to get to where they hid when they weren’t shooing people out. So tik had to get up the stairs, rickety and falling in and probably going to kill him or not. He’d even dressed light for the occasion hoping the shedded weight would make it easier, trading his usual platforms for worn doc martins with none of the layers of clothing and chains he was known for. A t-shirt, green corduroy jacket and ripped jeans was as far as he went, thanking whatever god there was that Logan and Janus hadn’t seen him as they’d never let tik live it down. He doubted they’d seen him out of his punk-esque style in a decade and he preferred to keep it that way. 

Taking a deep breath, tik carefully placed tiks foot on the first step near the wall where he assumed the least amount of damage would be. His foot didn’t break through with his weight like before so, taking it as a good sign, he braced himself against the wall and moved to the second step. Icd shot through tiks veins suddenly as he whipped his head around in search of the eyes he felt raking his back, but of course there was nothing to see. No nails or glass screeching through the air, no shadows dripping from the crevices he could barely make out through the ooze. Just an empty, unassuming house.

Remus tried not to dwell on the fact that in comparison to yesterday the silence left him more unsettled than being attacked would have.

Tik continued on, practically flattening himself against the wall as tik took it one step at a time, wincing as every creak echoed through the silence and only served to further raise the hair along his arms leaving his nerves electrified. Three quarters of the way of the step split down the middle from the wall to the railing, tils heart beating madly against his chest as he waited for it to collapse underneath him and leave him a bloody heap at the bottom. He took his weight off slowly and shifted to the next step up instead which seemed much more stable. Tik was acutely aware it was growing darker, the sun dimming around the edges as shadows began to ooze, so he tried his best to hurry his shimmy  as best he could to try and beat the inevitable. 

Blatantly ignoring the way his boots kept catching on nothing he finally reached the top step. Sighing in relief and closing his eyes for a second, tik dug the flashlight out of his pocket and stepped forward….only to bump his foot against the bottom step.

“What the fuck?” He was on the first floor again, the sun shining merrily at the top and spilling over the clearly visible stairs. Not a shadow in sight. “Okay, then I won’t blink. Needed the exercise anyway ghostie.”

He went up much faster this time, holding his staring contest with the railing like his life depended on it. As the air grew cold and tiks joints stiff he was starting to think it might. Tripping his way up the stairs as his vision began to tunnel he slammed his foot perhaps a tad more decisely than was appropriate on the top step. Tik grinned and stood up straight, making his way towards the corner to finally see what awaited him down the hall- and smashed his nose into the front door.

Nostrils flaring, Remus spun on his heel and marched his way back to the steps and slammed the flashlight on to shine it up the stairs. Tik took a moment to calm tikself and remember to control tiks volume. Yelling probably wouldn’t be the best tithing to do considering he’d nearly gotten an impromptu piercing yesterday just from sitting down. “Very impressive mind games but Janus could do better in his sleep.”

If the entire house darkening for a few seconds before returning to normal was a response that was probably something Remus should have thought more about before speaking. He leaned against the far wall and started again. “Look, I’ve never seen a ghost before so this is cool and shit but- they’re gonna be tearing this place down soon- I’m not sure they could fix and sell it in the state it’s in. Will you be stuck here when they do?”

The house was deathly silent as he waited, flashlight momentarily forgotten before he nearly dropped it. “Oh right! You have no problems manipulating objects so- on is yes, off is no....or maybe- one blink for yes to for no? I won’t ask anything too complicated I swear-”

Tik was cut off by the tool being ripped from his hands and catapulted into the far wall, bulbs smashing and batteries exploding out from the other end. He watched the plastic case clatter to the ground and roll away past his field of sight. While he wasn’t exactly sure which answer the entity had picked he was pretty sure it translated roughly to “fuck your flashlight.” which while much more impressive than a one word response it was decidedly less helpful.

“Okay! You wanna play it that way?” Deciding to do what he did best and simply not think he took a running start and sprinted up the steps, heedless of the wood crumbling beneath him and the shadows licking desperately at his heels. Turning sharply at the top tik kept running until he reached the very end of the hall, spinning around and holding his arms up in a defensive position, preparing for the worst as logic finally caught up to him.

For a moment nothing happened, a flea could have sneezed and Remus probably would have heard it for all the noise there was in the house. If his idiocy had taught him anything however it was that silence here was rarely ever a good thing.

His heart leapt in his throat as a door slammed against the wall, plaster raining down on the floor while the door slammed back into place looking as if it upset the frame with its force. Further down the hall another door did the same, this time taking an entire section of wall with it as it whipped back into place. The last door slammed with even more force, cracking the door itself in two but failing to swing back immediately. Instead it creaked back and forth slowly, as if undecided whether or not enough destruction had been caused to justify its closing. Remus watched it with wide, bloodshot eyes, pressed as tightly against the wall as he could get with shaking knees and rapid breaths. This had been a mistake. Whether his coming here was to selfishly prove there were such things as ghosts or to actually help he wasn’t sure- but this wasn’t at all what he’d expected or wanted.

Tik locked his eyes on the door which had now stopped creaking, shadows deepening around it as a cluster seemed to form just at hand height, pushing the ruined wood aside as it stepped into the hallway fully. There was nowhere to run from the terrifying entity that stood before him, writhing dimness that put a sickly filter over the light coming in through the dingy window. Tiks breathing picked up as he realized just how screwed tik was with no exit short of trying to bust through the wall and nothing but tiks mouth that had already gotten him into this mess to begin with. 

He shrunk back as the form began to move slowly down the hall, a sound registering that sounded like talons scraping against the walls as he frantically looked for what could be making the noise. Whimpering as gouges appeared in the walls sans  any talons or weapons to be seen, tik could only press himself back further and hope to god this wasn’t where his stupidity led him. A painful end in an empty house with a ghost that made the walls press in on him and ripped at his arms painfully and pulled every last breath of air from tiks lungs that it could before it decided to run him through-

He gasped as his back suddenly hit the floor, whipped around and thrown a few feet away so that he was facing the wall he had just been cowering against. Eye shapes so blacked they almost glowed purple stared into his own terrified brown ones mere inches away.

“Leave.” Remus felt the word more than he heard it- a deep, rumbling base shaking him to his core as tik struggled to raise up on tiks elbows without bumping “heads” with the ghost. Creaking snapped his attention to the boards in front of his feet as the floor began to ripple and crack beneath him, his scrabbling to gain purchase making it worse as wood chips began to fly up and around him. Splinters ripped at his clothes and tore his face as tik finally just rolled over and kicked off the wall, half sprawling towards the steps as he rolled sloppily to his feet. 

“L̴͇͓̦͎͊͊E̵̗̻͉͖̟̿̃̇̐͑͗A̶̛̩̤̖̻͛̌̋̓́̌̚V̷̢̰̎̿͆Ę̵̜͓̩͈̺̜̳̗̪̞̦͔͎̄̈̂̍̐̅̍͌̒̌̕͝!̵͙͖͔̲̹̟̫̣̻͙̤̿̐̊̀͒͜͝!̴̨̨̧̘̇̑̎͐͗͌̑̒͛͊̂̓̓̑̚ͅ”

The voice bounced off the walls and slammed into him, knocking him forward and giving tik just enough time to cover his face before tik was sliding down the stairs on his stomach. Groaning, tks eyes widened as he tried to get up only to find tik couldn’t. His arms throbbed in pain and his hip pulled painfully even as he tried using only one leg to push himself away from the shadows coming down the stairs like an infected flood. “Please-”

“L̶̡̛͙̝̙̥͖̳̮̝͕͍͙͎͖̘̘̽̈́͑͑̇̆͛̀̈́̿͊̔̿̚̚̚͠͝͝Ê̵̡̨̡̧̧̪̗͙̲̗̻͈͓̠̟̞̪͚̰͔̑̏̋̉̊͑̿̈͂̓̓̇̍̀̍̚̕͝ͅA̷͎̯̱̲̤͇͉͍͓̤̦̕͜͝ͅV̶̛̞͛͂̓̅̚͘̚͠E̴̬͕̬̣̟̽̄̽̆́́̋̀̈́̏͋͂͌̑̋́̊͘͝͝!̸̢̛̘̘̝̰̖̼̝͙̖͕̦̹͓͈͉͓̫̰̘͙̾͆̍͆̏̑́͒̿͊͂̈́̈̏͝͠ͅ!̷̨̧̭̪͙͈̫̰͖̻̤̺̝͋̉̐̓͐̾̓̓̏͋͂͜ͅ”

“I can’t!” Remus sobbed as his body was flung like a ragdoll towards the door, limbs splayed out in a way he’d joke about if he wasn’t so afraid he was going to die. Everything in him was screaming to just get up, crawl if he had to but get away, get away, get away-

And then he stood.

His body protested immediately but he hardly registered it in his panic. He hadn’t moved...and it was quiet. Why was it quiet? It shouldn’t be quiet he was going to die and now it was quiet-

“T̵̯̾h̵̳̑i̸̦͂s̶̢͆ ̷̰͌ỉ̶̗s̵̜̾-̸̲͗ ̷͈̈́I̸͔̅'̴͒͜d̷̗͘ ̸̫͊f̵̜̆o̸̡͠r̵̛̼g̸͎̈́o̶̞͊t̸̹͂t̵̺̑ė̵͔ṇ̵̿-”

“Forgotten what?” He mouthed, not a sound escaping from tiks cracked and bloodied lips.

His bruised fists clenched of their own accord and he began to jerkily move towards the door.

“I̷ ̵w̷a̷n̸t̷ ̷y̸o̵u̶ ̸o̷u̵t̶ ̵a̶n̸d̵ ̶I̴ ̵w̶a̸n̵t̴ ̷y̴o̷u̸ ̵f̶a̷r̸ ̶a̴w̵a̸y̷” The voice continued to echo in his head. “I̷ ̷w̷a̵n̸t̸ ̴y̵o̴u̶ ̴o̶u̶t̴ ̷a̶n̵d̵ ̶I̷'̶m̵ ̶n̸o̵t̶ ̴l̶e̴t̶t̶i̷n̴g̴ ̴y̴o̶u̵ ̴g̷o̶ ̸u̷n̷t̶i̸l̴ ̷I̶'̸m̸ ̵s̷u̶r̸e̷ ̸y̶o̴u̴ ̸c̶a̸n̸'̵t̶ ̸c̸o̶m̴e̴ ̵b̴a̴c̴k̸!̸”

A chill ran through him as tik tried desperately to fight but it was no use. Tik slammed through the door into the cool night air, startling him as he wondered just how long he’d been trapped inside the house.

And then his body began to run.

Previous     Next

[witchyfander]

Sanders sides AU where Virgil is secretly a cryptid (a poltergeist that passes as living) and goes ghosthunting with Patton

Janus and Remus are ghosts haunting the building they investigate

They know Virgil from life (even better - they died after him).

[oneletteredwondered]

My House

Virgil is a ghost living in a house who haunts everyone who tries to live there out of it. Well, almost everyone.

Inspired by this post.

No ship. Guardian Virgil to creativitwins.

Warnings: implied parental abuse of some kind - no description, mentions of a night terror, ghostly activities, slamming doors, mild descriptions of a home break in.

EDIT: NOW with AESTHETIC POSTS. Virgil. Roman. Remus. Made by the lovely @the-real-comically-insane.

—

They come with boxes and bags, maybe not as many as they should based off the others that used to try and move in. No one stayed for longer than a week or two. Virgil made very sure of that. A few well placed visions, a couple of cabinets slammed in faces, and maybe a small flood that turned red due to sheer will. Simple things he could do to have them all screaming and crying and asking to be out of the house before they could even pronounce the word “poltergeist”.

Perhaps a fitting name, Virgil didn’t care one way or the other, as long as it scared, as long as it got these people out of his home. This time it’s two people, a set, a pair. Twins, Virgil realizes if the similar faces are anything to go by. They shouldn’t be here. Not at all. After the last scare no one, not any one should even think about his home. But here they are, with boxes, and bags, and picking rooms right across the hall from each other.

With some deep sighs that rattle house, Virgil supposes he can give them a night. A single night, a false sense of security that they probably don’t deserve. Maybe it’s a vindictive glee, but seeing them get settled and happy, just to panic and move again is the only form of entertainment he can find. Which for someone who has been here nearly 66 years, he can’t find the humanity to care much.

So he twists his neck in circles, allowing it to come back to it’s supposed normal angle, and watches the twins for their first night. They say little, but enough, and are tired from their move. They tuck into bed rather early. Virgil floats through the walls and watches them a moment. They both sleep fitfully. Not that it matters.

–

Virgil slams another cabinets but it’s not heard over the obnoxious singing of one of the twins. It’s loud. It’s annoying. And the other one joins in. How can they stand the noise? Perhaps because they are ones making it. But they pay no attention to Virgil’s musing of the kitchen cabinets. And when one of them finally notices and sees the phenomenon, they simply bang them shut themselves.

They stomp, they scream, they sing. Virgil suffers from the lack of silence. Is this how it feels to be haunted? He wonders. Maybe so. But the twins sing and then sob in each other’s arms. It’s a sudden switch Virgil doesn’t know how to handle.

With a lump in his impossibly long throat, Virgil deigns them another night. Just one more. They can’t stay much longer. Virgil’s headache will never hear the end of it.

–

What is that? Is all Virgil can think as the person in the grey cap finally leaves the front door alone. It’s a lock. A new shiny sparkly lock on the front door. It’s gaudy and terrible and Virgil quite frankly wants to tear it from the hinges. He growls and tries to do so, but it’s new, it’s not a part of his house. So his attempts go unrecognized. In return, Virgil throws things from the shelves.

They are picked up with shaky laughing and solemn nods between the twins. Ignored. Virgil can feel himself boiling in anger and somewhere a tap in the house blows and water is spewing from the faucet. One of them, the one in green, rushes to the sight, and for some unholy reason, decides to take a bath. It’s a sign they say to relax. The other puts on a face mask.

Unbelievable.

–

He’s screaming. He’s screaming. And Virgil has done nothing. He was going to. He planned it out. He was going to pull out full tricks as nothing before worked on the two. Windows opening, doors slamming, electronics going off, and terrors that would force them from sleep seeing teeth meant to tear them pieces. But the one who likes red, is screaming, and Virgil has done nothing.

He watches still as the one who favors green barely has to push open the doors between them and tackles their brother to the sheets. They coo and whisper and Virgil falls from his floating position to lean and listen. They are both crying.

Are they not young? Virgil finds himself wondering. Surely they can’t be more than 20, younger even if Virgil had to take a guess. Death had aged him considerably to never remembering a time for himself. But they are young. Too young he knows, to be on their own. Where are their parents?

Virgil thinks he knows where they are, but in a place Virgil can’t reach. He backs away, letting the twins have the time they need. They are always close to one another, doors opened just a crack for each other. 

It’s not the last time it happens either. Virgil witnesses multiple times, one or the other, red or green, will wake up without his doing and soon they are together in the small beds that are old and creak with springs that are of no use anymore. They will hold and whisper and coo and cry. And they will be together.

They are young. Too young. Virgil does not know the feeling any more.

–

It stopped.

That damnable squeak in the door has stopped. Virgil investigates immediately. There, the one in green smiles to themselves, putting a few tools back in a black bag. Virgil tests the door himself, opening and closing it. Thank goodness. He was sick of that noise and if he had to hear it for another few years he may have torn his own home down to the bedrock just to be rid of it.

He always fixed the door when living, no one else stayed long enough to do so.

He lets his head turn behind him to see the green one still at the steps, watching. Virgil closes the door. Then opens it. The green smiles. Rude. Is what Virgil thinks, and follows as they run down the stairs yelling for their twin about the ghost in the home. Finally is what Virgil thinks, finally getting the recognition he deserves. 

They are not scared. They both come back up the stairs, one pointing at the door, the other waiting patiently. Virgil humors them, opens the door, and closes it. They ask a question. Virgil growls, opens the door, and slams it. They both squeak and run away, but they are laughing, and Virgil is too.

–

They flinch when the doorbell rings. They both do. Strange indeed, for they both spend so much time on their electric squares, debating on what to buy, what to get, what to eat. They should expect what they purchase. They both leave the house to work, or so Virgil assumes, to get the money, though they both look very young to be working and be able to afford bills.

Not that it should matter. Virgil keeps the lights on for them more often than not.

But the doorbell rings and Virgil is confused. It works well, has always, even when he lived it worked well. But they flinch and have to take a moment to calm themselves before doing anything else. He is unsure how they have not gotten used to the sound. They are more often louder than the bell.

He’s unsure why, but he see’s someone out the walls, a brown box in hand, coming up to the door. Virgil acts before thinking, knocking on the door himself to the inside. Somehow it works. The one in red bounds down the stairs and looks out the window in time to open the door before the delivery person can ring the bell.

Perhaps foolish, but Virgil breaks the bell for them. Should it ring ever again the sound will be soft, forcing the person on the outside to knock should they ever want to be heard over the endless cacophony of noise the twins create, for it hasn’t stopped since that first day.

–

Virgil watches, and watches, and watches. The flowers begin to grow well, and full, and bright. Something his deadthumb would never have been able to create. The flowers sit in an overhang on the windowsill. Blues and purples begin to spring to life so soon it seems.

Virgil had never been able to grow them himself. He watches them grow, keeps careful mind of when they are supposed to be watered. Should someone forget he turns the faucet on, keeps turning it on, until someone takes the small pitcher and waters the plants. It’s the least he can do. 

The one who likes red smiles at the flowers, a soft something that feels deeper, sadder, than it should. He planted them selfishly, and Virgil can’t blame him for that. Maybe he should learn their names eventually. Their voices are always foggy in his mind, but perhaps, they might be worth a try.

–

Virgil sucks in a breath and flicks a lamp on. The green one, Remus, relaxes. Even if the light had turned on randomly, the tense rise of their shoulders is now gone.

He paid attention. He saw it in the wide, frantic look in their eyes when Remus got out of bed. It was fear in a pure form and Virgil couldn’t stand it for some reason. So he turned on the light. And Remus thanked him for it. It was a small admittance, but there all the same.

Remus got his water from the kitchen area, and only after he was safe back in his bed with the springs that are useless, did Virgil turn the light in the hallway of the stairs off again.

When he saw the panic flash back in Remus’ eyes, Virgil decided that maybe a nightlight in the hallway wouldn’t be such a bad idea. The twins have no idea where it came from, but that didn’t quite matter to any of them.

–

It’s.. familiar. Virgil thinks. The window in the living space is his favorite. It’s wide and allows a lovely breeze into the house when opened. The twins had spent a good part of the day reorganizing the space, and pushed their old couch right up to the side of it, putting it right in the way of the path of the sun.

Virgil rattles something in the house, the shudders to the window mostly, in approval. He used to have a chair of his own there. A rocking chair with plush cushioning. It was, in his opinion, the best place for his chair in the house. Even though he can not sit on the couch proper, he can float on it and enjoy the beams of the sun like he used to.

The twins whisper to themselves and join him though they don’t really know. Roman ask things aloud. It’s foggy through the haze of living versus dead, but Virgil understand well enough, or so he thinks. He shudders the windows again happily and the twins cheer to themselves. They burst into song, and Virgil finds it not as obnoxious as he once thought it was.

–

Remus rocks back and forth. Head moving from side to side. Virgil watches. It’s not a new behavior. He’s seen it before. Normally, Roman, would come and see and start turning things off. Lights, electronics, even close blinds. But Roman is not home due to some reason or another. 

But this is Virgil’s house. So he makes it quiet. Cabinets that were open close softly, doors that were creaking shut and make silence. Electronics flip off with no press of a button. The blinds are drawn and the wind outside could not muster the strength to keep the shudders shaking. Not with Virgil holding them tight to keep them that way.

It takes a moment, a few actually, not that Virgil cares for counting them, but Remus stops rocking. He lays flat on the ground with a blanket over him, and breathes deep. He thanks nothing but open air again. Virgil wonders not for the first time, if Remus truly believes there is a ghost in the home. Virgil hasn’t done much to hide himself really, and Remus is not shy in trying to figure out.

Yet Remus thanks the empty house regardless. And Virgil will silence his home as often as he needs to keep Remus from rocking.

–

‘Good luck’, they said. ‘Good luck’, is the words Roman used. ‘Good luck’, Remus had agreed. Virgil feels it in the pits of the dead soul of himself. Good luck.

A simple phone call to a cracked phone in Remus’ hand. The twins had listened in together, Virgil unable to make out the words. The call took a long time. Long enough for Virgil to open doors in worry. Then the twins ended the call and dissolved into laughter.

Laughter is a good thing. Vigil smiles and rattles the home in question. But then Roman calls it ‘good luck’, the home, and in turn Virgil in it. It spreads a warmth through Virgil, and he warms the house in turn. The twins are laughing, and holding tight to each other.

‘Good luck’, they said. And Virgil would try to bring them many more of it.

–

No, is what Virgil thinks when he spies the recipe they have open. 

They found the cookbook after exploring some of the crevices of the kitchen. Virgil’s cookbook, something he sure had been lost to time itself, got stuck between the fridge and the wall. The adventure to get it out struck both the twins and they spent a good while trying to move the fridge to get it out. Virgil eventually took pity on them and moved it himself.

They tore through the pages, lamenting on the discoloration, and deciding with no little gusto, to make every recipe in the book, starting of course, with the most difficult dish in the whole book. No.

Virgil rolls his eyes and flips the pages himself, very aware the twins are watching with rapt attention. Good. He flips open to a casserole, something with easy steps that the picky eaters they are may not dislike too much. The twins laugh sheepishly to each other, over estimating their skills but not really wanting to admit it.

In the end, it’s not so much a disaster. They eat a decent portion of the food and tuck the rest away for later. Still they peruse the recipes, and make an absent minded promise to make them all for Virgil once more. He can’t eat any of the things in that book anymore, but it’s the thought that counts.

–

Absolutely not, is what Virgil thinks when he spies the men with crowbars at his home’s door. 

How dare they think they can just break into his home, their home, and not face the consequences of it. There’s an anger rippling at Virgil’s form, dangerous and vengeful. Not his home. And not the kids inside.

So when the men crack open the gaudy lock, Virgil throws every door, every window wide. Every light flashes and flickers and strobes the men blind. Some break with the force of his fury, but continue to burn. He slams and shudders but doesn’t break. The men turn and run, screaming haunted back at the property.

Roman and Remus come downstairs confused and disoriented. Once they put the pieces together they hold each other on the couch, watching the closed door with a lock that’s fixed without having been touched, the sun comes up and warms them. They sit in the perfect spot to do so.

Virgil’s anger calms but is no less justified. This is his home, his borders, and nothing, nothing, is going to hurt the ones he protects inside.