#sander sides ghost au

[paperleef]

Ooooouuhhh spooky!!

[kelbinajim]

Guys this is vital does anyone know who the artist was for the sander sides ghost au from like,, years ago??? I remember seeing it when I was younger and being absolutely crazy over it I wanna see where the artist is now!!!

[piliiiiiconfusionf]

Fanart for GhostAu by Deus from Instagram! :D he is so cute I couldn't resist omg

[xandriagreat]

Thomas and the Ghosts-Roommates

This is for @platonicsidesweek

Thomas moved into a new place (it's an old house). He found out that there are ghosts living there after living there for about a month.

Thomas panicked when he saw the 4 ghosts at first time and the Ghosts panicked when a human could see them after a long time but then everything calmed down after a bit.

He starts to talk with them and listens to them.

He's now helping them move on.

Roman, Patton, Logan, and Virgil do like the help that Thomas is doing for them. They help him with a few things, like suggestions of how to talk to someone or help him around the house.

[starlocked01]

We Only Get Together for Weddings and Hauntings

AO3 Link

Summary: Logan gets an unexpected call that drags him into a terrifying and confusing bid to save his friends' lives. Or maybe the house is just old and has a few raccoons in the attic. It's hard to say. Regardless, he refuses to quit debunking the ghosts until he can make it home to his own husband. Content Warnings: Injury, Swearing, Innuendo, Religious Talk, Implied Past Homophobia Featuring: Logan, Patton, Virgil, Remus and Emile. Virgil/Remus and Logan/Emile

And head out over here to see @thecrowslullaby 's art that inspired this story! @xts-reverse-bangx

[ashs-random-writing]

House of oddities

Chapter 1

Ao3

—

Patton, a very optimistic borrower, traveled over a day’s journey that led him to this house. It was pretty far from other ones. It seemed normal enough, even if his new human was very loud, and liked to talk to themself. He didn’t mind. There was more than enough supplies here. Besides, he wasn’t too excited at the idea of making another long journey.

Two local ghosts start keeping a secret from their living friend.

—

Appearance wise, ghosts take on features that represent how they died. Janus died by a snake bite, and has snake scales over the side of the bite. Virgil, though I’m not telling you his cause of death just yet, has a whispy tail instead of legs.

I hope you enjoy this !!

Something was going on with his human, Patton noted. His human seemed more excited than usual, which normally would make Patton happy. However, as this was a new human, he wasn’t too sure what to expect.

Even the most optimistic borrower would be wary. It could be anything, from a vacation (bad for borrowers as it meant heavy rationing) or a ‘pay rise’ (great- human got more things that could be borrowed).

Of course, those weren’t the only options. As much as Patton loved the idea of pets, he knew that he would have to move if his human had gotten one. Well, depending on the pet. Dogs and cats, as cute as they were, were vicious creatures when faced with a borrower. That could also be an option.

He didn’t want to move only two weeks after finding the perfect walls. He sincerely hoped that whatever had caused his human to be so happy was something good.

He watched his human pace around giddily, like they had just won a giant prize. Perhaps they had. He couldn’t help but smile, despite his hesitation as to what could cause this infectious mood.

His human talked to themself a lot. Patton was sure he’d hear about the source of excitement eventually

He waited for his human to go to sleep before he gathered food supplies. It was routine borrowing for him, but he couldn’t help feeling uneasy about something. The human was still sleeping, he could tell that much, so he didn’t know what was causing this unease

He had been feeling similarly since he’d moved in. It was a different kind of unease than when he was at his last house. That unease was feeling like he was going to be seen, this felt like being watched. Like any borrower would feel, Patton felt very off about this whole thing.

He had checked about a thousand times that there were no cameras, before he had ever even left the walls. He should never have been feeling eyes on him.

He shivered. He didn’t know whether it was the fact that he could still feel someone watching him, or the coldness that seemed to radiate from different parts of the house.

He put all his food in his bag, and started running towards his entrance. This house made him feel more exposed than other houses did. He didn’t understand.

His human was still sleeping, he checked after putting away his supplies. He chalked up this unease to the fact that this was still a new house.

There was nothing wrong. He smiled. He sometimes felt the eyes on him when he was in his home in the walls, which was how he knew he was imagining things. There was only him in the walls. There was nothing else.

No sign of any other life in there, not even a single web (thank whatever was out there that was looking out for him) or rats nests anywhere in the walls. The only living things in the house were him, and his human, and occasionally his human’s friends.

They were loud. Patton didn’t like loud noises, but he liked seeing people happy. He organised his supplies and made sure his nest had enough fabrics. Winter was closing in, he would need more.

The fabric was in his human’s bedroom. They were unlikely to wake up whilst he was borrowing. He quickly grabbed the scraps he needed and ran back to his home.

He was tired. He had borrowed a lot today; all that climbing was tiring. He wrapped up as warmly as he could and closed his eyes. The walls were cold, but he was used to it.

If he felt eyes on him as he fell asleep, he ignored them. He woke up to the sound of his human talking. His human was loud. He took a look at the clock outside the wall.

He’d only been sleeping for a few hours, which was probably why he felt so tired. He yawned, but he knew his human would keep being loud, so he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He didn’t mind. His human would go to work, and then Patton would have the quiet, empty house to himself.

He wished there was another borrower nearby. Maybe he wouldn’t be so tired if he could split responsibility between him and a friend. Maybe he’d be less likely to watch the human so constantly.

He took to wandering whilst he waited for his human to leave. Having been a borrower since birth, he was well aware of the challenges and limitations of his life.

He just wished he could live somewhere where he could control the heating and where he could talk to people. He was always optimistic, however.

He’d probably find enough fabric to make himself a warmer outfit and help make his nest a little warmer.

His human had a ton of scrap fabrics lying around

His human was talking to themself. They always acted as though there was someone else there, even when there wasn’t.

This wasn’t the only human who he’d seen do the same. Humans loved giving into their imaginations and talking to themselves. Patton had the urge sometimes, but there was obviously the chance of being discovered if he gave in to the impulse.

He didn’t dwell on the human’s actions, and just focused on keeping himself busy with walking to prevent himself from crying. He was so tired. His human was getting ready to leave. He walked back home.

The sound of a door made it known that he was able to sleep again now, even though the eyes on him came back as he got back home. He wrapped up as best as he could and settled back in his nest.

He smiled, though he felt watched.

He fell asleep for another few hours.

—

Virgil was used to being bored; he was a ghost, there wasn’t much opportunity for him to talk to anyone except the one other ghost of the house, Janus, but they weren’t on the best terms with each other. Not for the past year, anyway.

The past few months had introduced two new living people into his home; Roman, who for some inexplicable reason could see him and Janus, and the newest addition to the house; the tiny person.

They lived in the walls, and scavenged for food or supplies. Virgil watched them a lot. The things they did were dangerous, what would’ve been a mild fall for Virgil would be a fall from tens of feet high for them, and still they climbed it close to daily.

Virgil had never seen anyone like them before. He could tell that they were jumpy, and they didn’t like the idea of people knowing they existed. Virgil never mentioned their existence to the living of the house.

He knew that Janus knew they were there as well. He’d caught Janus watching them more than a few times, but, with as skilled as Virgil and Janus were at avoiding each other, one of them would quickly leave the room to go back to their own.

Perhaps a little bit of hissing between them as the other left, but that was private business. Roman had since stopped trying to make them friends.

Virgil floated around the house, waiting for Roman to wake up. The little guy was sleeping.

Virgil couldn’t feel the cold, but he noticed the shivering and the extra fabric the little guy had been taking. He needed to convince Roman to turn the heating up. Someone that small was bound the feel the cold a lot more than someone human-sized.

Virgil heard when Roman woke up, because, what seemed like immediately, he heard Janus talking to him.

He scowled. Janus just had to ruin everything, didn’t he? He crossed his arms. Did they have to be so loud? He checked on the tiny scavenger

They were sat up, rubbing their eyes with their clearly makeshift glasses still next to their little nest. He frowned, face still through the wall.

Poor thing. Everything must be louder to them. Virgil took his head out of the wall tunnels and started to wait for Janus and Roman to stop talking, so he could talk about his (undoubtedly more important) problem to the person who could help.

Janus talked to Roman the entire time, until the human had left the house. Virgil’s scowl deepened.

He flew over to Janus

“What if I had wanted to talk to him?”

“I’d have no way of knowing that, dearest friend, because you don’t ever talk to me,” he said, scales shifting with Janus’s grin

“Well, my thing was important, and you’ve ruined it,” he hissed out, starting to float away

“Aw, important, was it? Needed another song added to the playlist he made for you? Or, perhaps your little nightlights ran out of battery?” Janus’s mocking voice echoed in his ears, and hell if he wasn’t able to push all of Virgil’s buttons. He wanted to slap that mocking pout straight off of his face

“First of all, they’re fairy lights, not nightlights, but I suppose that, being the baby you are, you’ve probably only ever heard of a nightlight. Second, my thing was actually important. I needed to convince Roman to turn the heating up,”

Janus raised his eyebrow

“Oh, my. I didn’t know that you had suddenly developed an aversion to the cold, that, might I remind you, you can’t feel ,”

“It’s not for me, you-” he took a deep breath that was entirely useless, “It’s for the little guy in the walls and, not that I expect you to care, considering you care for nothing but yourself, but they’ve been shivering non stop lately,”

Janus’s face had a brief moment where the mask fell, before coming back, and he looked down at his nails, which were covered by his gloves

“It’s too bad that you’d never be able to convince Roman. You wouldn’t be able to convince someone that ghosts were real, even if they were looking right at you,”

Virgil glared, clenching his fist

“Well, you do it then, if you’re so good at being convincing,” he snarled out, only for Janus to smile

“Gladly, thank you kindly for the offer,”

Virgil left with clenched fists and the thought that if he could, he’d’ve slammed the door shut.

He hated Janus so bad, he might as well have been in Hell rather than his house.

He floated down to the basement, his room, the only room in the house that Janus could not follow. Janus had never seen the basement as part of the house, and therefore when he died, he was restricted from it.

When Virgil had lived there, he’d chosen the basement to be his bedroom, so, when he died, he was able to go through there and the rest of the house.

Virgil floated above his bed and listened to the playlist that was constantly on loop in his room. He would actually need more songs on it, but he would never admit that in front of Janus.

He scowled, thinking about the snake of a ghost that occupied the upper house. Virgil wished he could kill him a second time.

It was hours later that Roman got home, and once again Janus whisked him away in conversation before Virgil could even greet him

Luckily, however, Janus seemed to be proposing that the heating be turned up. Virgil admitted reluctantly that Janus’ ability to convince people of things was impressive, no matter how much he hated it.

He left his room once he heard Janus and Roman finish their conversation

“Do you have to talk to him so much?” He asked, a sneer on his face

Roman didn’t even look at him before responding

“We’ve gone through this, Virgil. I am friends with both you and Janus. I can’t just not have conversations with one of you to please the other”

Virgil crossed his arms

“Alright, fine. How was your rehearsal?”

Roman went into a long rant about how they’d obviously chosen the lead correctly, as it was him, but that one of his cast mates had been making snide remarks all day, which obviously couldn’t happen

“Alright, I get it, you’re dramatic,” he rolled his eyes

Roman turned to stare at him

“And you’re not? Last week you told me you were going to stay in the basement forever so you would never have to see Janus again!”

Virgil looked away and muttered that he was not being dramatic and never having to see Janus again was the kind of happiness that required no extra dramatics.

“Yeah, okay, so why did you come back up, if you weren’t being over-dramatic when you said that?”

Virgil left the room, totally not dramatically, and checked on the little guy. They were organising things, probably supplies.

They didn’t look as tired anymore. Virgil went back down to his room. He obviously couldn’t let Roman know about the little guy.

Roman was… very excitable. The little guy seemed very skittish, and they seemed to avoid loud noises. It would be best to keep Roman in the dark about this.

—

@a-chilly-pepper @da3dm @betamash

[caitcat04]

Sanders sides fans!! Are you still out there??

I just remembered a fic that I would love help finding pls! It's like a period piece where Thomas is a historian and moves into an old house and meets all the sides as ghosts. Then, he pieces together their life stories as he talks to each ghost and eventually manages to republish the stories of their lives and set their souls free.

I remember some vague details:

It had all 6 sides

Roman was an artist/poet but was very ill

Logan was his doctor

They were in looooveee

Patton and Virgil ended up together which was super cutee

Its them retelling the stories of their deaths so its quite sad.

They all find each other again in ghost form, it's so cute!

Idk who the author was but I think I read it on ao3?? If u could help that'd be so great thank u!!

[ho-ho-homosxual]

Should I revamp my old haunted Hathaways sanders sides au? I have some old WIP drawings and concepts the I recently refound.

Sanders Spirits au

[bendyartistic]

You guys aren't gonna believe what I did... 💀

[lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie]

Not Even Death Will Do Us Part

Summary: Thomas explores an old, abandoned house and finds that he isn't alone.

Pairings: BROTHERLY CREATIVITWINS

WARNINGS: IMPLIED DEATH, MENTIONS OF DEATH, FIRE, REMUS BEING REMUS, GHOSTS, UNSYMPATHETIC JANUS

(A/N: Found this buried in my ao3 and I've decided to post it here too since apparently, I never did. Also, fun fact: this fic was inspired by my obsession with Ghost Whisperer and ghost stories in general.)

Taglist: @enigmasalad @part-time-zombie @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Why did I agree to this?”

Thomas sighs as he walks down the dark streets in the dead of the night. It’s cold and eerie and silent as he makes his way through an abandoned neighborhood. Rows and rows of old, dilapidated houses surround him. Dead trees dot their old, faded yards that are covered in dead leaves and junk. The wind whispers, making Thomas shiver and wrap his arms around himself. He didn’t plan to come here at first but his friend, Joan, told him that there was a haunted neighborhood that they had explored and wanted Thomas to see. Thomas, bored as hell and wanting to see something new, decided to go. 

But now he’s starting to regret it a little. It’s cold and scary and he swears he thought he heard something from one of the houses. Yet, he walks on. He passes a house with boarded up windows and no door. Sooty footprints lead up the pathway and into the house. Yellow gloves dangle on a dead bush by the door along with a bowler hat and a black cape. Thomas shudders and walks on, swearing that he heard a soft hiss and faintly smelled some gasoline.

He passes the next house and spots a clothesline in the backyard. It has a navy polo and tie with red stains, a bright but dirty blue polo, a torn cat hoodie, and a purple and black patched hoodie with tears in it. Two pairs of shattered glasses sit on the doorstep. The house had shattered windows stained with...well, Thomas couldn’t tell if it was blood or dirt. It was just a dark smudge. He walks on and passes an open, tipped over garbage can. In it was a knife, an empty and shattered jam jar, and a shredded copy of a Sherlock Holmes story. 

“This neighborhood is...something.” Thomas mutters, tearing his gaze away from the trash can.

He walks on and passes a few abandoned houses and stops again in front of another interesting house. Stuffed toys litter the front yard and none of them are intact. They’re all dirty, torn, with their stuffing ripped out and all over the place. Thomas gazes around and he sees another trash can tipped over. This one had many empty coffee cups, shattered sunglasses, a notepad with smudged notes, a broken pen, and many crumpled balls of paper. When he looks up, he notices a garden filled with dead flowers. A clothesline sits in the middle of it. The clothesline holds a faded and torn black leather jacket, a stained pink tie, and a beige cardigan with red stains. Thomas goes to walk on but pauses when he hears cartoony music softly playing from inside the house. Something about leaves and a vine. It sounded sad and mournful. Thomas listens for a moment before walking on, humming the song under his breath. He doesn’t know what a little soldier boy has to do with leaves and a vine but he still liked it.

Thomas continues to walk down the empty streets until he reaches the end of the neighborhood where a deserted cul de sac is. The houses here were much bigger and grander. Amongst the small group of houses is a grand, Victorian mansion that catches Thomas’ attention. 

“What’s this doing in a cul de sac?” he mutters, looking up at the mansion.

The mansion is tall and it almost looks more like a castle with its two tower-like sections. Thomas walks up to it and there’s a faint scent of gasoline here too. He looks around and spots two empty jerry cans on the front lawn by some trash cans. They’ve rusted and are covered in soot. Thomas swallows nervously, walking even closer to the house that seems loom over the rest of the houses. The dead grass crunches under his shoes as he heads up the pathway. He then pauses when he steps on something hard. He looks down and finds a rusted golden locket, picking it up. 

The locket is dirty and its clasp is gone. A green cursive ‘R’ is engraved on the front. When he opens it, Thomas finds a picture of a woman on one side and a boy on the other side. They were both smiling in the photo. Thomas assumes the people in the locket lived in this house. He pockets it and walks up to the door, looking up at the mansion once more. It was just so dark and eerie looking. 

Joan had told him that it mysteriously caught fire years ago. They also said that there are rumors that the surrounding neighbors thought they saw someone leave on the night of the fire but it was too dark to tell. All they saw were a flash of yellow glows. Thomas wonders if those gloves were the same gloves that he saw earlier as he walks up the stairs to the front door. He swallows once more and pushes the door open, the sound of it creaking echoing inside the house. 

“Creepy…” Thomas shudders.

He pulls out a flashlight and continues inside, finding himself walking through what used to be a foyer with rose-patterned wallpaper and a dusty wooden floor. A coat rack stands by the door and the clothes there were nearly burnt. Thomas could only make out a white coat with rusted gold buttons. Looking around, he then learns there used to be plants in here as he finds some empty plant pots with ash and soot in them. As he walks over to look at one of the pots-

SLAM!

The door that Thomas had come through had shut itself, startling him. Thomas’ heart pounds and he looks around for a moment. But there was no one else with him. He walks on, heading towards the living area ahead. As he walks under the threshold, he pauses again and looks down. There was a thick line of salt. Odd. Weren’t these only in tv shows with monster hunters and supernatural like? 

Thomas feels anxious now as he walks into the living area. There’s a big white couch ruined from the fire and torn in place, its cushion springs poking out of the fabric. Wooden planks litter the place and a shattered glass chandelier sits amongst them on the floor, its fake little diamonds scattered everywhere. On the walls are pictures of the same woman and boy from the locket. Alongside those are more pictures of the boy, standing with another boy that is almost identical to him. There are other pictures but most of them were burnt to the point that most of the faces were unrecognizable. 

Then, as Thomas turns away from the photos, he feels the air grow cold around him. He looks around nervously as the floorboards nearby creak and groan. His flashlight starts to flicker. The wind blows cool air once more and stirs some dust and ash around. 

Then,

“A stranger...You’re a stranger...in our home…” 

Thomas freezes, eyes darting around the room. There was no way he heard that voice just now...was there? Maybe he’s just hearing things?

“Not safe...not safe...Have to protect him…Get out!” 

Thomas jumps at the sudden growl and the even colder burst of wind around him. The chandelier’s remaining diamonds tinkle with it and a nearby table slides towards Thomas, just barely missing him as it bumps into a wall. 

“Please...don’t ruin our home…Please…”  

“Why would I do that? Who am I even talking to?” Thomas calls out in reply.

The cool air came rushing by again and Thomas’ flashlight flickered once more. The flashlight flickered off for a few moments then on again. The table by the wall had moved back to where it was. A picture frame that had been on the wall was now at Thomas’ feet. Thomas picks it up and looks at it. It’s a picture of that boy again with his wide smile. 

“So...you’re the boy in this picture?” Thomas replies, part of him now realizing that he might be talking to some dead kid.

“Yes...What about you, stranger? What are you doing here? Are you going to burn our house down too?” 

Thomas shakes his head.

“No, I just came here to explore. A friend told me to check this place out. I can leave if I’m disturbing the place.” he answers.

“Oh...You can stay I guess...Just please promise you won’t destroy our house...It’s the last thing that’s keeping us safe.” 

“Us? Is there someone else?”

“Yes!...Well...I don’t know...Maybe? I can’t tell...I hear him but I can’t find him or see him…”

“Him? Him, who?”

“My brother...I miss him...I want to find him but something is keeping me here in the living room...I can’t get upstairs and...I’d rather not...go into the basement...I never liked it there…” 

“Oh, I see...well, since you’re here...wherever you are, do you want to tell me your name?”

It’s silent for a moment as Thomas returns the photo to the table. 

“ ...My name is Remus…Princeton. ”

Thomas startles and turns around to see a boy that looked about 17 years old, standing in front of him. The boy, Remus, was wearing a black prince costume with a green sash. The costume was torn and bloodied and so was the sash. Cuts and bruises littered the boy’s pale skin. His hair was a mess and he had a few bruise marks on his face. 

“You’re a…” Thomas breathes out.

“A ghost...I know...It’s a... long story...I’ll tell you later. What’s your name, stranger?” Remus replies.

“Thomas.”

“Thomas. Well...nice to meet you, Thomas.”

Thomas watches as the boy circles him for a moment, his red eyes looking back up at him. He looked so real and touchable that you couldn’t mistake him for a ghost. Thomas had thought that ghosts were transparent like the ones on tv. 

“Likewise, I guess. Mind if I have a look around?” he asks. “I’ll try not to touch anything. Maybe I can help you find your brother?”

Remus lit up in surprise.

“Really?! You’d help me?!”

Thomas nods, feeling bad for the ghost. Something he never thought he’d be able to experience outside of the media he’s seen.

“Of course. It sucks that you’re all alone here.” he says honestly.

“How do I know you’re not trying to destroy it or keep me away from my brother?” 

“I literally only have my phone, my wallet, and a flashlight. I don’t think I can destroy much with them. Plus, I’m pretty sure I’d need a whole contract to take this place down, even then I wouldn’t want to do that. I kinda like this house.” 

“...Okay, I believe you...I’m sorry if I’m a bit...protective. Other people that have come by here have tried to destroy it. I had to get rid of them…”

Thomas raises an eyebrow and begins moving towards a door nearby.

“Get rid of them?” he says.

Remus nods, grinning almost too widely.

“Yep! They’re now fertilizer in Mama’s rose garden! Oh...they were so much fun to crush and cut into pieces...They were like fruit!” he giggles.

Thomas cringes and opens the door.

“I did not need to know that. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!”

Thomas rolls his eyes with a small smile and walks in. Remus follows behind and he looks around. There’s a sad look in his eyes.

“The study...Roman and I had so much fun here… We’d be here for hours and hours even when it was already late at night. We’d share stories and we’d write plays. We’d make things for each other. I miss that so much…I miss him…”

“I’m guessing Roman is your brother?” Thomas says, looking through some books.

Most of the books were destroyed in the fire but some remained intact. Others were damaged here and there. 

“Yeah. After...everything that happened...I woke up in the living room and I was alone. I couldn’t find him so I tried to look for him but I couldn’t get upstairs without getting this burning feeling inside. I tried the kitchen but I couldn’t get in there either. I could go in a few closets, the main bathroom, the laundry room, Mama’s garden, and the basement but I couldn’t go up. Roman had been with me when everything fell apart...He was the last thing I saw before everything went dark. ” Remus sighs.

“That’s horrible. But don’t worry, we’ll find him soon. I think I figured out what’s keeping you down here. There was a line of salt at the front door. Maybe there’s some by the kitchen and at the bottom of the stairs.” Thomas replies.

“Maybe...Can you get rid of it?”

“Yeah, if I can find a broom to sweep it away.”

Thomas then continues to look through the books, finding a few familiar titles. There were old mother goose tales and stories of dragons. There were Grimm Brothers’ fairy tale books and dark stories about witches. There were books of poetry and nursery rhymes. Thomas feels a little nostalgia when he sees the mother goose tales. Then his fingers found a leather bound book that seemed mostly intact. A layer of dust and ash covered the book and the corners were a little burnt but other than that, it was pretty much salvageable. Thomas looks at it curiously and pulls it out, sneezing softly as he brushes the dust away.

“Ooh! Roman and I loved this book! ‘The Story Of The King’ is our favorite. The king is this powerful ruler who had powerful magic that would let him create anything or do anything! So he used it to keep his people safe and to defend them from the dragon witch!” Remus says excitedly.

“Huh. Never heard of that story before but it sounds nice.” Thomas replies, opening the book.

The first page is the title in faded gold letters. At the bottom of the page are the names of the brothers written in messy writing. Thomas hums and flips through the book, admiring its pretty pictures. When he reaches the middle, he finds a few old polaroid photos. The first one was a picture of the twins on their 10th birthday. The next picture of the twins posing at the beach. Some of their friends were in the background. 

Another photo shows the twins now standing outside of their house, wearing tuxedos and smiling for the camera. This photo was labeled ‘prom night’. Thomas also notices that another boy was standing with them. The boy’s face was scribbled out but he could see a familiar bowler hat and...yellow gloves. 

Remus frowns at that photo and sighs, hugging himself. It’s been years since he’s seen...him. He doesn’t like thinking about him or even saying his name. There were too many bad memories. 

“I never should have trusted him.” Remus murmurs quietly.

“Why? What happened?” Thomas asks, looking at the photo.

“He’s a snake. A lying, fucking snake.”

The air grows colder and Thomas shivers. He looks closer at the photo and notices that the twins were wearing matching lockets. He tilts his head and looks at it closer, taking out the locket that he found earlier. It was the locket that Remus was wearing in the photo. 

“Hey, my locket! Roman and I made these for each other on our 15th birthday. Where did you find it?” Remus asks when he notices the locket, peering at it.

“I found it on the pathway to the front door. Do you want it back?” Thomas replies.

“Yeah! Mama made us graves in the local cemetery just outside of the neighborhood. You can leave it there later. If you find Roman’s, take it to the grave too.” 

Thomas nods with a small smile, pocketing the locket again. He then puts the photos and the book away. He walks around the study some more before leaving the room, Remus following behind him. Looking around, Thomas notices an open door nearby. He opens it and finds that it’s some kind of a closet. He looks inside and finds the broom he needs. Closing the closet, he takes the broom with him.

“Where are we going with that?” Remus asks.

“You said you couldn’t get into the kitchen, right? Maybe if I get rid of the salt, you could go in there and see if Roman’s there.” Thomas answers.

“Oh, right! Maybe there’s a dead body in there!”

“I hope not…”

Remus only giggles as Thomas walks on to the kitchen. Thomas gets to work, sweeping the salt line away while Remus stands back and watches curiously. When that’s done, Thomas sets the broom aside and walks in. Remus cautiously steps forward, sighing in relief when he doesn’t feel the burning sensation anymore. With that, he follows Thomas into the kitchen.

When they walk into the kitchen, Remus isn’t surprised at the mess he sees. A vase of dead roses sit on them, some of them just wilted stems. Shattered plates litter the floor along with some knives. Torn curtains flutter in the window where the rays of the evening moon filter through onto dusty, cracked tiles. 

“Oh.” Remus sighs, looking around. “I think it was better when I couldn’t go in here.”

“Did something happen to you here?” Thomas asks, looking at the plates.

“A lot of things did. A lot of things with that fucking snake.”

“Ah. Whoever this snake is, you must really hate him. Or he must really hate you.” 

Remus huffs, kicking some plate shards aside.

“Of course, I fucking hate him. He ruined everything and hurt me and my brother.” he sighs.

“Ouch.”

“Yeah”

Thomas says nothing more and continues looking around the kitchen. There isn’t anything else more but rotten food, a planter with dead flowers in the windowsill that is now filled with ash, and overturned chairs around the table. 

“So, do you think Roman’s here?” Thomas asks a moment later.

Remus shakes his head and sighs.

“No, I can’t feel anything here. He’d be here by now if he heard us.” he says and leaves the kitchen.

Thomas sighs and follows after Remus. He finds him by the stairs, trying to go up only to hiss in pain and back away. Frowning, Thomas goes over to him with the broom.

“Here.” he says and sweeps the salt away into a nearby trash can in the hall.

With the salt line gone, Remus dashes upstairs and Thomas follows with the broom. The upstairs mostly seemed intact and barely burnt. Pictures hang on the walls and some are of the twins and their woman. Some pictures show other faces and a few pictures have a certain face scratched out. Thomas doesn’t question it, already guessing who it is and why it’s scratched. Thomas continues to look at the photo when-

“Welcome to wonderland…we’ve got it all…” 

“Remus? Was that you?” Thomas asks.

Remus shakes his head, listening as well.

“Potions and pastries that make you grow tall…”

Remus lights up when he realizes who the voice belongs to.

“Forests and cottages…castles and cards that can talk… ”

“Roman! I hear him! He’s much louder now! He’s in our bedroom!”

Remus runs over to the door and stops when he sees another line of salt with a footprint in it. It’s odd, he thinks, as every person who had visited the home before has never made it upstairs before Remus either scared them away or killed them. He decides not to question it and backs away. Thomas then comes over and sweeps the salt away, disposing it to the side. He then opens the door to the twins’ room. Remus rushes past him and Thomas shivers. It was much colder here.

The twins room had two beds, black and red and both messy. A shattered picture frame lays on the floor by the black bed. Across the room is a white vanity with a shattered mirror. The contents on the vanity seemed to have been violently shoved aside as they now laid on the floor. A locket sits amongst them and Thomas picks it up. It’s identical to the other one he had except for the ‘R’ on this one being red instead. He pockets it and looks around for any signs of Roman.

“RoRo? Are you there?” Remus calls, looking around.

A breeze blows by and the large windows by the vanity swing open. 

“How do I know it’s you and not that awful snake?” comes a soft voice.

“What do you mean? Why would I be that snake?” Remus replies, stepping towards the doors.

“Because you’re here to trap me again. You want to keep me away from my brother…”

“But I am your brother. I’m right here.”

It’s silent for a moment then the window blows again and the curtains flutter. Thomas shivers as the cool breeze brushes by. He looked back to the window and there stood another boy.

“Roman! ”

Roman looked almost like Remus save for the red eyes. Remus had green eyes. Roman was also wearing a prince costume but it was white and red and covered in soot. His fists were burnt and bruised. His skin was tan and dirty. Then his eyes widened as he saw Remus.

The two run towards each other and soon fall into a hug on the floor, laughing as tears of joy roll down their cheeks. Thomas only watches fondly and suddenly this house wasn’t as scary as it used to be. 

“I thought you left me, Remus.” Roman says after a moment of hugging.

Remus shakes his head.

“I would never leave you, Roro. You’re my big brother and I love you.” he says, smiling up at him.

“Gross, when did you get sappy?”

“Is it illegal to miss my dramatic, gay brother?”

“You’re gay too, dumbass.”

The two brothers share a soft chuckle then Remus sighs.

“Roman, you were right. About Janus. I never should have trusted him.” he says, looking at his hands. “We lost everything because of me.”

“Oh, Remus, no. You are not at fault. You were young and you didn’t. That snake tricked all of us, even when he held his right hand in truth. He was the one who lied to us. He was the one who set our home on fire. He was the one who separated us. He was the one who trapped us here.” Roman says, wiping some dirt away from Remus’ cheeks.

“But that fight we had that night…”

“Was entirely my fault, Re. I shouldn’t have said those things. I shouldn’t have believed Janus. You might be weird and messy but you’re still my baby brother. Nothing, not even death, can come between us.” 

“Promise?”

“I promise.” 

The two brothers share another hug before Roman notices Thomas standing there. He pulls back, looking over to him.

“So, I see you made a friend and didn’t murder him for once.” the older Princeton says, smiling.

Remus nods happily.

“This is Thomas! He helped me find you. He’ll take our lockets to our graves.”  he explains.

“Uh...hi?” Thomas says with an awkward wave.

“Hello, I’m Roman. I guess Remus told you that already. Thank you for helping him find me. For helping us come back to each other. You’ve probably heard the story by now but our home caught on fire on the night before our 18th birthday. We had been arguing because I got angry about Remus inviting Janus. ” Roman explains.

Remus sighs.

“We were going to have a costume party the next day and were trying on our costumes before that happened. Then we fought and I watched Roman walk away to his room. I stayed in the living room and fell asleep there. Later that night, I woke up to the smell of smoke. I opened my eyes and there was smoke everywhere. I looked up and Roman was coming down the stairs and running to me. I heard a scream, and everything went black.” he continues.

“I saw my own brother die that night. The chandelier fell on him and before I could try and rescue him, he was dead. Then the smoke filled my lungs and things went black for me too. When I woke up, I found myself upstairs in the hallway. And I was all alone. I knew it was Janus. I saw his eyes through the smoke. Bright yellow and cold. I knew what had happened. Janus set our home on fire and watched us die.”

“He never liked Roman and no matter how hard I tried, he wouldn’t get along with him. I felt so conflicted. I used to love him then. But when I saw him that night and what he’d done to us, that love was gone.”

“And I thought I was never going to see my brother again. I thought I had heard his voice one day, but it was an illusion. A trick to trap me in my own room.” 

“But you’re not trapped anymore, Roman. You’re free. We’re free. We’ll never see that snake again.” 

Roman nods, holding his brother’s hand. He looks up to see a bright light filling the room and he smiles, feeling relief after all these years. Thomas, oddly enough, sees it too. 

“I guess that means it’s time for you to go. I’m glad to help you get back together again. I hope you both rest peacefully now.” he replies, looking towards the light.

The twins nod, turning to the light.

“I guess it’s time. We can finally be with Mama.” Roman smiles.

“Mama…she died after us. I heard she couldn't take the heartbreak.” Remus breathes, chuckling softly. “She’s probably still pissed about the house.”

“True, but I’m sure she’ll be happy to see us anyways."

The two step towards the light but Roman pauses.

“Hey, Thomas. Can you do me a favor? Can you take care of this house? It’s all we have left, and I don’t want to lose it. You can stay here if you’d like, even redecorate it but please don’t let it be destroyed.” he pleads.

Well, that was new. Thomas hadn’t planned to own a house that someone died in or once used to be haunted. Then again, he couldn’t say no after hearing the story of the twins. They really did love this home and it was beautiful. So, Thomas smiles and nods.

“I’ll keep the house safe. I promise.”

Roman smiles at that.

“Thank you. Come on, Remus. Let’s go see Mama.”

“Goodbye, Thomas. Thanks for everything.”

Thomas smiles and watches as the twins walk into the light, vanishing away. The light then follows and it’s dark in the room again. But now, it wasn’t as cold as it used to be. With a small smile and a warm feeling in his chest, Thomas leaves the bedroom and heads downstairs. It’s late and he’s feeling exhausted. He goes home and dreams of two princes, ruling a beautiful kingdom and keeping their people safe.

Then...the next morning…

Thomas visits the neighborhood’s cemetery, leaving two lockets behind on a pair of tombstones. 

In Loving Memory of The Princeton Twins

[cheezekennith]

So uhm okay i have some au that i used a goofy ahh deviantart cast meme so here are some of the cast in my really cringe old soulless art style i have when i was young

I actually drew this in ms paint because idk

And i found my old art style both cute, soulless and cringe

[edupunkn00b]

A Light in the Darkness

Photo by Johanes Plenio via Unsplash. Color and tone edited.

Logan finds a light in the darkness when he needs it most. It leads to more than he ever thought possible.

WC: 2617 - Rated: G - [ AO3 ] - CW: fear, minor injury, blood mention, past major character death referenced, ghosts, happy ending Written for @houser-of-stories as part of the @tss-october-ghostwriters gift exchange for. I hope you enjoy it! I had fun writing it! -

“Keep running, freak!”

Taunting laughter filled Logan’s ears as he stumbled deeper into the dark forest. He tripped on a rock but kept his footing and continued to run. Heedless of the thorns that snagged his hair and his clothes, heedless of the cold. Heedless of the villages’ stories of the ghosts and spirits who guarded the woods.

The trees grew thicker here, wide long branches crowding out the nominal path. The prickly pines tore at his ragged sweater and threatened to snag his third-hand spectacles from his face. He stopped, yanking hard to free himself from the gnarled grip of one sharp-spined bough. The voices, his friends’ voices—former friends’ voices—grew louder and he gave one more hard pull on his sleeve. The yarn snapped and the branch took a bit of his skin in trade, but he surged forward.

Loose soles on his worn boots flapped. One caught on a tree root and he slammed down on one knee. Cold, flickering light from the mob’s lanterns shone through the trees. Logan watched their shadows loom over the thicket.

He’d lost the path.

Again scrambling upright, Logan limped forward and dove into the thick underbrush. He dodged to the left, then the right. The shadows grew shorter. The men drew closer.

A dark mass, a boulder or maybe a massive tree trunk, blocked his path. It swallowed up the dancing lantern light, a flat, empty darkness.

Whatever it was, Logan ran toward it.

Shouted swears as the mob hit the thicket echoed against the trees. “You made me rip my favorite pants, freak!” Someone shouted. The blacksmith. Perhaps the shopkeeper. Enraged, they all sounded the same.

Logan hoped to hide behind the mass, definitely now a boulder—he could just make out a bit of the grey treeline above it. As he drew nearer, though, he discovered it wasn’t merely a boulder, but a gap in the rocky foothills on either side of the forest. A cave.

Bears lived in these woods. Bats, too. Worse, if the stories were true.

Given what Logan knew about the villagers’ stories about him, though, he doubted the veracity of many of their stories.

A rock exploded against a tree only a dozen yards to his left.

“We see you!” a voice jeered as another rock struck the same tree. “Fucking tall ass freak!”

The chance of a bear beat the certainty of the mob, so Logan darted into the cave.

He slowed as soon as he passed the threshold, the utter darkness within making the forest feel brightly light. The tiniest glint of lantern light at the cave’s mouth was the sole evidence flames had ever existed. Shivering, he inched deeper into the cave, stepping toe-heel. Relief flooded his veins when the grating voices faded, the last glimmer of lamp light absorbed by the dark stillness of the dark stone. The cave was cold and dry, his own breathing roared in his ears.

He was alone. He was safe.

Fear-fueled strength waning, Logan sank down and crouched against a mostly smooth divot in the wall. Knees hugged to his chest, he worked to slow his breathing, ignoring the ache in his knee and shin for now.

For now, he just listened.

Save for several breathless moments when the men tromped past the entrance, the cave was dark and silent. Even that moment was brief and it appeared the mob gave up their pursuit.

Logan had no way of knowing how much time had passed, nor how easily sound from within the cave might spill out into the forest, but eventually the throb in his leg could no longer be ignored. Moving as slowly and quietly as he could, he stretched out his injured leg to assess the damage.

Blindly prodding, he found a gash below his kneecap and another above the edge of his boot. The rest appeared to be simple bruising. Nothing was broken, but he would need to clean the wounds so that infection wasn’t his next big problem.

Logan shivered, stifling a humorless laugh. Expulsion meant he’d never need to have that argument again. Not in this village, at least. He shifted again and a warm trickle down his leg told him his current big problem was blood loss.

Feeling around the cave floor turned up little more than a few dried leaves and pebbles. He raised a handful of the tiny dried bits to his nose. Yarrow. He stretched to gather more, then ripped his pant leg from ankle to knee. Wincing, he pressed as much of the dried yarrow over his wounds as he could stand. It wasn’t perfect, but was better than continuing to bleed.

He let his head fall back against the wall with a little thud and a sigh. Eyes squeezed shut, he shoved away the pain to consider his next steps.

It was possible the mob would simply wait him out at the edge of the forest, counting on hunger or the cold to drive him back to the village. Even if they hadn’t torched his home, return was not an option.

Under cover of darkness, this little cave was a sanctuary, but in the harsh dawn’s light, it could quickly become a cage. Though tempted to rest for a few hours before heading out in search of a more permanent safe space, Logan was self-aware enough to admit that, in this weakened state, there was little guarantee he’d actually wake before dawn. The fear of waking to the raucous voices of the mob, their lanterns in his face, shook him from his drowsiness, the imagined gleam of their torchlight snapping open his eyes.

The light, however, had not been imagined.

An arm’s reach away, just above eye level, floated a glimmery ball of light. It shone a soft blue, the color of the sky at mid-day. The color of his late father’s eyes.

The color of hope.

Logan stared at the light for a long moment before shaking himself. Was he dreaming? Pushing up to his feet, a groan escaped his lips at the jolt of pain in his leg. The light flickered, then rose, again just above his eyes.

Fuzzy memory brushed at his mind, an old story his father read to him before (and well after) he could read for himself. Mythical fables of tiny lights that would guide the hopeful, the virtuous, the hurt and the needy home.

“You know I can’t return to my home,” he said aloud to the little light. Sharp laughter edged his voice, shame at his own foolishness. He’d been homeless for far longer than when this village, too, turned on him for his strangeness. Alone in a cave and talking to an imagined ball of light, could he blame them?

Almost in response, the light shifted and a second light sprung to life a few feet from the first.

Instead of leading him toward the mouth of the cave and back out to the forest, it drew him deeper inside. Logan blinked at it. Did he really have anything to lose?

He stepped forward and the first light rushed forward, dancing around his head. “Alright, alright,” he chuckled, the bright blue light impossibly warm and cheery and filling him with… more optimism than he’d felt in a long, long, time. A third light sparked to life and he nodded. “It appears you have a plan,” he muttered. “Just—” he gasped when he stepped and put his full weight on his injured leg. “Just go slow,” he managed, one hand on the cave wall for support. “Please,” he added and the little light bobbed, like a nod, before drifting deeper into the cave.

Well after Logan had expected to hit the back of the cave, the lights continued, leapfrogging ahead each time he drew near enough to touch the closest light. One halting step at a time, he followed. When he stumbled, a fourth and fifth light sparked on either side of him, sharing their strange warmth.

“Thank you,” he murmured and let them guide him. Logan didn’t know how long they’d meandered through the cave and a high-pitched laugh bubbled up from the back of his throat at the image of himself limping in circles in the back of a dark cavern. Not long after that, the wall seemed to fall away, starlight and the thin pink light of dawn glowing beyond.

He managed one more step before falling forward. Logan was already wrapped in a dark blanket of unconsciousness when the lights caught him and laid him gently on the ground.

~

“Ohh, Jannie!” The familiar sing-song followed by an emerald glow at the edges of his vision was Janus’ only warning before Remus appeared in front of him. Shoulders shimmying, he levitated, one leg crossed over the other, a few inches above the wooden table where Janus prepared both meals and potions. The brilliant green of his eyes over-illuminated the grimoire in its stand as he stared expectantly at Janus. The apparition pouted when Janus didn’t look up. “It looks like Pattycake found another one! Out by the Gate.”

“Hm, really?” Janus graced him with a single eyebrow raise before returning to his work. It wouldn’t’ve been the first false alarm—or outright prank—the spirits in his charge had brought to him. He finished his current sentence before pulling the ink closer to the page.

“Yes, really!” Remus huffed and the lid to Janus’ inkwell popped into place, blocking his quill. “Pattycake says this one’s important, too.”

Full attention drawn, Janus laid down his quill and met Remus’ translucent eyes. “Important?” he murmured.

“Mm-hm… Important and alive, just like you.” Remus’ grin didn’t last. When he dissolved only to reappear next to the cottage door, his eyes were serious.  “But maybe not for long.”

“I’ll get my bag.”

~

By the time Janus had gathered his bag and his cloak and pulled the heavy wooden door shut behind him, Remus had already found Virgil. The pair were exchanging their typical morning greetings, cat’s claws buried in the thick bark of his oldest alderwood. His hiss cut short the moment Janus appeared and started down the path.

Virgil shifted and leapt from the branch to join him, eyes drawn to the medicine bag in his hand. “You’re not headed to the village, are you? Things are… tense down there.”

“That says a lot coming from our resident scaredy cat,” Remus laughed, not bothering to corporate.

“Tense?” Janus asked, ignoring the friendly barbs. "How so?”

Giving Remus nothing more than an eye roll in response, Virgil shrugged at the witch. “The usual ‘you’re not like us so you have to die bullsh—”

As though summoned by the curse, one of Patton’s will o’ the wisps blipped in front of him and Virgil nodded. “Sorry, Pat.”

Shaking his head at the predictable antics, he pointed down the path from his cottage. “Is he still down by the gate?”

In answer, the will o’ the wisp buzzed half-way down the path before pausing. Janus would need to wait until they were all back in the cottage before Patton could speak to him, but for now, the dual message was clear. 

“Yes, and hurry up!”

~

Logan dreamt. He was a child again, small enough to comfortably curl up in a nest of blankets in front of the hearth. He watched as his father stirred the big iron pot, metal ladle clanging gently against the sides. The pot bubbled, full of a broth or stew or perhaps even the dumpling soup he liked… whatever it was, it smelled wonderful.

The fire crackled gently in the fireplace, close enough to warm him, far enough that he had no fear of sparks. His father had always known just how close to let him settle in. The blankets were thick and soft, softer than in his memory, even. They smelled of sage and lavender and black pepper. A tiny black cat curled near his leg, purring gently. 

His father hummed as he cooked, an old lullaby he used to sing when Logan was feverish or had woken from a nightmare. He smiled as he dropped a handful of herbs into the simmering water, the fragrant smoke wafting through his shimmering blue hair.

Eyes wide, Logan sat up. “Papa?” Rough and cracking, his voice was low. The voice of a man, not that of a little boy. Hands shaking, he reached up and felt his own face. Two-days worth of stubble scratched his palms, and his fingers were rough and calloused. But he couldn’t deny the evidence of his other senses. “Papa, is that you?” 

“Logie…” His father turned and before Logan could blink, was at his side. He smiled, bright and bold, his front cuspid cracked, just like Logan remembered. His entire form was edged in a faint blue, the same shade as the lights Logan had seen in the cave, he held his hand. Wrapped firmly around his, his father’s hand was warm and tingly, sending the hair on his knuckles and his arm on end. “Of course it’s me, Logie,” he murmured in the voice Logan thought he’d never hear again.

“Papa,” Logan clung to him, eyes squeezed shut. He felt real. He felt warm and safe. Familiar broad shoulders, big, fleshy muscles, thick curls tickling Logan’s cheek.

He felt like home.

“Papa, the town, they—” Tears choked out the rest of his words and he cried hot, shameful tears. “I—̛I was alone. I couldn’t fend them off, I—”

“You’re safe, now, Logie,” his father whispered. “You’re not alone anymore. You’re safe here.”

“But you’re—” He couldn’t force the word past his tight throat. “I buried you, Papa,” he finally managed to whisper, squeezing the hand in his.

“I know. And you were so strong.” His father’s hand cupping his cheek, Logan melted against it, just like he would when he was nothing more than a child. “It’s really me, Logie. Just… just a little different now.”

“But…” It was impossible. His father had… “But how?”

His father’s eyes shifted and Logan turned to follow his gaze. A man, a plain, ordinary man stood in the corner. He wore a heavy black cloak, his face half-hidden in shadow. A crooked smile fought its way to the light, the flicker of the fireplace giving him an animated expression. “Logie, I’d like you to meet my friend, Janus.”

The man stepped forward, hand outstretched. He quickly flipped it over, palm up, but not before Logan caught sight of the runes tattooed across the back of his hand.

Before he could think better of questioning the hospitality of the man his father described as a friend, Logan blurted out, “You’re a witch?” 

“You got a problem with wiccans, Stretch?” A cloud of green formed inches from his face, molding before him into a wild pair of eyes above a manic grin.

“Smooth, Remus,” spat the cat by his shin and Logan’s eyes whipped back to it and stared.

“Y—you speak?”

The cat stretched and kneaded the floor, claws carefully tucked inside its paws. Logan blinked and a young man dressed head to toe in black wool suddenly sat hunched in the cat’s spot. “Of course I speak.” His smirk and the dark eyes flashing warmly heavy bangs belied the otherwise hard tone. “Don’t you?” 

“Oh, Kiddo…” His father squeezed his hand and nodded to the witch. They both watched as he filled three bowls with dumpling soup. Stunned, Logan leaned against his father and accepted the first bowl. 

“Eat up, Logan,” the witch murmured with another half smile as he passed a bowl to the man-cat, cat-man… Whatever it was. “We have a lot to explain.”

[thatonelesbianfander]

Honestly, at the pace I’m writing these chapters for The Ghost and the Reaper AU I’m probably going to finish writing this fic by the end of the week. I might end up switching the chapter posting to daily if I finish the fic early

[stardustsides]

i haven’t posted any writing in a while, so here’s a snippet from one of my wips, in which medium!virgil meets ghost!patton for the first time :))

-

He had been three years old, and had somehow managed to wriggle out of his mother’s line of sight and wander the graveyard out back, his beloved stuffed black cat clutched in his chubby fist. As he toddled over the uneven earth and roots, tripping occasionally, he noticed a man perched on the old wooden bench under the weeping willow.

The first thing that struck Virgil at the time was how sad the man seemed. Sadder than anyone he’d ever seen, he thought, even though he didn’t seem to be crying. This perplexed Virgil, because it was his understanding that sad people were supposed to cry. He watched for a moment as the man stared out at the copse of trees among the graves, letting out a sigh so full of despair that Virgil could feel his heart get heavier.

The second thing that he noticed was the man’s appearance. He was young, maybe thirty, with round cheeks and large eyes that drifted over the graveyard, lost in thought. He wore a well-loved gray cable knit sweater, fraying at the edges, and a round pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. But what caught his attention was his alarming lack of color. It looked like someone had cut him out of an old photograph and pasted him on the bench. His skin was a worrying shade of grey that matched the clouds in the November sky.

The grey man’s gaze fell on Virgil, and he smiled a bit, if only to himself. Virgil was much bolder as a toddler than he was as a teenager, and he certainly didn’t want the man to be sad, and so he lifted up his small hand and waved.

“H’lo, Mid-ster!” He called over to the grey man, who startled so violently he nearly fell off the bench. He stared at Virgil, open-mouthed, and whipped his head around this way and that, making sure that there was nobody else around.

Perplexed by this reaction, Virgil decided to try a different tactic. He raised the small stuffed cat up high in the air. “D’is my kitty, Mittens!” He said, raising his little voice higher. “My mommy gave her to me.”

The grey man only seemed to grow more shocked. “Are—are you talking to me?” He asked haltingly. His voice was raspy, as though he had an awful cough. Virgil frowned.

“Ya!” He replied. “I’m Vir-gil.” This was how his mother had taught him to politely introduce himself to adults.

“You can—y-you can see me?” He asked, voice hitching up, clearly on the verge of tears. Virgil shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like it when people cried.

“Ya,” he responded. Then: “Don’ cry. I’m sorry.”

The grey man got up and slowly, almost dreamlike, walked toward Virgil and knelt down to eye level. Up close, Virgil could see that his skin was see-through; the bench was still visible through his torso. His dark eyes were shiny with tears threatening to spill onto his freckled cheeks. “…a medium,” he whispered to himself. Virgil felt confused at the word, but was more concerned about the sad man. “…Virgil, you said your name was?”

“Yuh,” he said, holding Salem tighter. He vaguely remembered that his mother told him not to talk to strangers, but there was something comforting about the man, odd and otherworldly as he was.

“I’m Patton,” the man said, staring at Virgil in amazement. Then, all of a sudden, it was as though a switch had flicked on his head, his melancholic demeanor replaced by a more concrete concern. “How old are you? What are you doing out here alone?”

“T’wee,” Virgil responded with pride. “I live here.”

“Where are your parents?”

“My mommy’s inside makin’ lunch. I don’ have a daddy.”

Even as a toddler, Virgil could sense the shift that took place in Patton at those last words. The depressed glaze over his eyes was gone in a blink, and suddenly the ghost before him—though Virgil didn’t yet know he was one—seemed all the more alive.

“Oh,” he breathed, brown eyes suddenly sparkling. Virgil blinked. The man’s colors were still muted, but there were colors, now. His sweater was a faint baby blue, and his cheeks were rosy from the cold. “Okay, sweetheart. Well, you should get back to your mommy. I’ll take you to her, okay?”

“‘Kay,” Virgil responded, going to grab for his hand. His own passed right through it, like water. Virgil looked up, confused. “Are you real? Or ‘maginary?”

“I’m real,” Patton said, and Virgil believed him. “But I think only you can see me.”

“Oh,” Virgil said. And then: “Why?”

Patton paused, contemplating. “Because you’re a very special little boy, I think.”

Beaming with pride, Virgil toddled back to the old house with his stuffed cat and a ghost.

[monkeythefander]

Here’s dtiys prize 3/4. This prize is for i.can.draw.horribly on Instagram, who requested a drawing of Roman from their Ghost AU. @thatsthat24

[wolfprincesszola]

The Fate of the Marked Six Masterlist

Summary: Virgil moves into a new town and meets Roman, a ghost that he promises to help in finding the unfinished business needed to pass over. However, Roman's past seemed to be deeply muddled with trouble, an uncurable disease that has started to affect a classmate, and a certain tight-lipped valedictorian. Friendships are made and Virgil finds himself thrown into a situation far more complicated and twisted than he signed up. Hopefully, with the help of his new five friends, he can find a way to bring peace to the town once and for all.

Pairings: Logan/Patton (Logicality), Roman/Virgil (Prinxiety), Remus/Janus (Dukeceit)

Word Count: 85,082

UPDATES EVERY WEDNESDAYS!

Read it at archiveofourown (click the underlined)!

<Chapter 1>

<Chapter 2>

<Chapter 3>

<Chapter 4>

<Chapter 5>

<Chapter 6>

<Chapter 7>

<Chapter 8>

<Chapter 9>

<Chapter 10>

<Chapter 11>

<Chapter 12>

<Chapter 13>

<Chapter 14>

<Chapter 15>

<Chapter 16>

<Chapter 17>

<Chapter 18>

<Chapter 19>

<Chapter 20>

<Chapter 21>

<Chapter 22>

<Chapter 23>

<Chapter 24>