#sanders sides monsters under the bed au

[art-dump-for-avery]

BEHOLD MY BOY!!!

(Image one is his design, image two is how Thomas usually sees him)

Finally, after more than a year, mutb au virgil is complete ÚwÙ they grow up so fast

[snowdice]

Envisage a Better Place to Sleep, Virgil! (Part 2) [Part of the Envisage Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Roman & Virgil

Characters: Roman, Virgil

Summary: A collection of mini fics detailing all of the times Roman has found Virgil… sleeping in odd places after moving in together.

Chapter Summary: Virgil goes from best to worst roommate in a matter of seconds.

Notes: Superhero AU, Fluff, Inappropriate Sleeping Places

This takes place after Best Laid Plans and is part of the Labeled Universe.

When Roman returned to the apartment from his superhero exploits, he was exhausted. He’d had to run all over the city because a villain had released a flock of robotic murder birds, and Roman had had to catch all of them before they achieved their purpose. It had been like a city-wide game of Duck Hunt, except Roman had been using his fists instead of a gun and the half a dozen police officers wearing tactical gear took the role of the dog, scaring the birds out into the open, and then picking up the pieces after Roman took them down.

It was now 3am and Roman had class at 8:30am. Yet, he knew if he collapsed into bed right now, he’d be in for a mega migraine in the morning. He’d burned far too many calories and, even though he didn’t even feel hungry at this point, he could feel the effects on his body already. If he slept for 4 hours, he’d pay for it.

So, he forced himself to walk to the kitchen and flip on the lights. He was about to grab one of those horrible, but necessary, energy bars his moms always made sure he had, but then saw a note on the counter.

Calorie enriched mac and cheese in fridge. Blue Tupperware.

-Virgil

“Fucking, bless you, Virgil,” Roman mumbled to himself, turning to the fridge. It was nice to be roommates with someone who knew about his superhero work. The Tupperware container was right there as promised, and Virgil had even put it in one of the microwave safe bowls, so Roman popped off the lid and put it in the microwave. When stirring it halfway through, he noticed there was even bacon in it. Virgil got the best roommate reward tonight.

When the food was warm, he grabbed it and took it to the living room. He fell heavily onto the couch. The couch grunted in surprise.

Roman was on his feet in a second, the fork in his hand going flying, though he managed to keep a grip on the bowl of food. He was even more freaked out when he noticed he had not, in fact, sat on someone. No one was on the couch.

“Uh…” he said, stumped.

But then there was the sound of movement and suddenly dark eyes were peering up at him from the floor.

“You’re under the couch?!” Roman shrieked. There was some space under the couch, enough that he’d thought of getting one of those rolling storage compartment for under it, but there wasn’t that much space. “I didn’t even think you could fit under there!”

Virgil grunted. “Barely.”

“Why do you do these things to me?” Roman bemoaned as his heartrate started to slowly calm. He found he wasn’t tired anymore.

“Why don’t you eat at the kitchen table?” Virgil returned, wiggling back into his place under the couch.

“You are the worst roommate ever!” Roman declared.

“Just eat your mac and cheese, Prince Dumbass,” came from the monster under the couch.

Roman just sighed and picked his fork up from the floor. He considered going to get another, but then shrugged. He was a bit more cautious when sitting on the couch this time and did not get a sound of protest.

He ended up falling asleep on the top of the couch minutes after finishing his bowl of macaroni while his roommate slept below.

Want to read more? Click below!

Labeled Master Post.

My Masterpost.

[janus-symbol-where-art-thou]

It’s been 287 days since we last saw Janus’ snake symbol!

My most shitposty hc is that while Remus is very ace his tentacles are not (;

[stillebesat]

Demon Comfort (1/3)

DECEMBER DRABBLES DAY 10 Sanders Sides: Logan, Virgil  Blurb: Lurking under a Human’s bed should be downright dull for a Demon of Logan’s rank. And yet...he can’t help but be intrigued by his human charge. Fic Type: Demon!AU, Demon!Logan  Overall Fic Warnings: Near Death Experiences, Freezing, Burning, Hazing Talk, Manipulation  Taglist in reblog. 

It wasn’t the most glorious of jobs. Logan wouldn’t be the first demon to admit it. Lurking under a human’s bed was mundane at best and outright mind numbing at worst. 

They were so distracted with their technology these days, so overloaded with sensory input from a variety of sources that most humans would barely twitch if their demon companion made themselves known. 

No. Beyond using this as an exercise in learning how to terrorize the youngest of human offspring, ones whose minds were much more easy to scare because of their simplistic fears, the only other time a demon was ever assigned to this task was...well as punishment.  

And unfortunately for Logan, who had had a good three millennia of experience under his wings...this was definitely a punishment. To be forced back into lurking under a human’s bed like an overgrown dust bunny.

He knew this sentence was meant to break him. To drive him crazy from how extremely dull it would get as soon as the child grew old enough to stop fearing the monster under their bed.

Except it wasn’t. Logan allowed a small smile to play upon his lips, tail swishing back and forth. Because apparently his superiors could make mistakes. After all, he’d been told he would be condemned to lurking underneath a child’s bed.

Instead, he’d found himself underneath a near-adult’s. One who would soon be leaving his childhood home to pursue an education elsewhere and learn to navigate the world of being an adult on his own. 

It had turned out to be a far more interesting punishment than Logan had expected. The near-adults were known to his kind to often be in a stage of tumultuous growth, easy to influence when their heads were filled to the brim with a variety of doubts and fears that hovered like a dark storm cloud above them. A tangle of ever shifting and writhing threads that Logan had learned to love, in the past half year on earth he’d been here, to tease apart and influence so he could better understand what spurred this near-adult through life.

Virgil, the charge he’d been assigned to, truly was a diamond in the rough compared to the other near-adults he’d glimpsed while stuck here. The storm cloud over his head so tangled, that Logan could easily play with the threads for hours, teasing through them, seeing how each dark thought influenced the human as he tossed and turned on the thin mattress over his head each night.

Only Virgil wasn’t currently tossing and turning over his head. 

Logan silently exhaled, his breath misting in front of him as his leathery wings twitched in irritation. He ran his fingers over his horns, trying and failing to focus on the Alice in Wonderland book that his charge had left on the floor this morning as he listened to the human shiver on the couch in the living room on the other side of the wall. 

He hadn’t often had the opportunity to study humans when their planet frosted over since his particular type of demon preferred the warmer climates of Earth that were similar to his native inner ring of Hell. Had had very little interest in ever doing so.

But Logan’s current human had chosen to move away from the heat and the shining sun when he ‘left the nest’ as his fellow demons termed it. 

Further north than Logan would have preferred. But despite hours upon hours of tugging and twisting at the quivering thoughts in Virgil’s mind... this had been one decision he hadn’t managed to turn to his favor. 

No, Virgil had wanted a new start far away from his previous life, far far away from everyone he knew, and he’d decided that heading to a colder climate was the best course of action.

Now Logan was definitely regretting not fighting with those slippery thoughts harder. But how could he, or the human, have known that a freak cold snap would leave the state frozen in near arctic conditions? 

It was cold enough outside of the four walls of the first floor apartment that humans were dying if they ventured out for longer than a few minutes.

Inside? It was nearly as bad because the apartment had been without power and therefore without its ability to heat the place for the past seventy-two hours. 

His charge, his stubbornly stubborn, but very poor charge had to be the only human left in the entire complex. The last of the other residents having left over forty-eight hours ago to safer and warmer options once it became clear that the power couldn’t be fixed until the weather warmed.

If it ever warmed. 

Logan shut the book, having not read a single word on the page for the past hour. He rested his head on the cover, wings trembling as he fought to keep his body temperature lower so that no steam would come off his body and alert his charge to his presence.

This would have been much easier if he could just come out from under the bed and take Virgil somewhere warmer. He had wings did he not? He could fly them anywhere--but no.

Logan grimaced, running his tongue over his fangs. Demons and Humans weren’t supposed to mingle unless a Human summoned them. 

And until that unlikely event happened. 

Virgil couldn’t know he was there. 

Which was a pity. Even if he hadn’t had his wings to fly them away, his physical manifestation would have done much in his favor in convincing his charge to leave this frozen wasteland.

Instead, Logan had fought for hours with the tangles in Virgil’s mind, pulling at all the proper strings to get him to leave---and yet again had irritatingly lost to his charge.

There was a reason why he hadn’t minded being stuck with Virgil for the foreseeable future and it was because his, dare he say it? Smart and brilliant human could bring up excellent, if befuddling at times, points to his silent arguments that Logan couldn’t easily manipulate in his favor. 

His charge’s finances were borderline nonexistent. Which meant he couldn’t afford to fly back home. And Virgil didn’t own a car so he couldn’t drive anywhere. The buses weren’t running either because of the cold. Nor could he afford to stay in a hotel. 

And most unfortunately, moving away from everyone he knew and Virgil’s naturally reclusive nature meant that his charge had no friends or even acquaintances to go live with within a thousand miles while his obnoxiously loud, rude, and inconsiderate roommates had vanished without so much as checking in with him to make sure he had a place to go to. 

No. Logan growled under his breath, tail tapping against the floor. For all intents and purposes. Virgil was on his own to survive this cold snap--

He jerked his head up, glancing to the wall with a frown at the sudden silence coming from the other room.

That wasn’t right.

Automatically Logan reached out for the sluggish tangle of thoughts that Virgil always had twisting about his head.

Nothing. 

Logan blinked. That definitely wasn’t right. He pushed up onto his elbows, barely remembering to duck his head to avoid piercing the mattress above with his horns.

Virgil couldn’t have left. Not in this weather. He was too cautious for that. Logan would have heard the door slam at least which meant that Virgil was still here and if he was still here he should be able to reach those tangled thoughts even while his charge slept unless Virgil had--had----

“No.” Logan rolled out from under the bed, chest throbbing uncomfortably as he sprang to his feet and burst through the bedroom door into the living room. His wings spread wide as he grabbed the motionless figure from his cocoon of blankets on the couch, wincing at the frozen chill that burned his skin as he cradled the nearly blue human in his arms. His wings snapped shut around the near-adult to insulate him from the cold, his wings taking on a red glow as allowed his inner fire to burn hotter to get heat into his charge’s frozen body. 

He should have tried harder to get him to leave! Especially when the power had gone out. He shouldn’t have let--“Virgil.” Logan shook his charge, using the back of his hand to brush the purple bangs from out of the human’s eyes. “VIRGIL.”  

The human suddenly gasped, twitching in Logan’s arms as his glazed eyes fluttered open, meeting Logan’s own slitted ones for a heart stopping second before they closed. The human twisted, pressing his frozen face into Logan’s side, violently trembling. “C-c-co-o-ld.” He mumbled.

Alive. The tightness in his chest eased as Logan shoved to his feet, holding Virgil close like a mother cradling her demon spawn as he moved back to his charge’s bedroom where he would be able to use his hellfire in the smaller space more effectively to ensure the young human would survive. “Not for long, I promise you that.” 

It wasn’t proper, he shouldn’t have come out and revealed himself like this in the first place without taking on a human disguise. He shouldn’t have cared if Virgil perished. He should have just gone back to Hell to say that his sentence had ended with the death of his charge instead of trying to save him--but propriety could go screw itself. 

Virgil was far too interesting of a human to lose to something as stupid as freezing to death. 

“Wh-who--y-y-y-you?” Virgil managed to ask through chattering teeth as Logan entered his--well he supposed it was technically their room since Logan lived there too. 

“A--” Well he wasn’t really a friend now was he? Demons and Humans couldn’t be friends. And Logan’s actions in toying with the human’s mind would hardly be deemed acceptable in most human social circles he was sure. “A Guardian.” He said, settling on that particular term with a twitch of his tail as he climbed onto the bed, adjusting his wings to ensure that the heat radiating off of him remained focused on keeping Virgil warm. 

 Technically he was looking out for Virgil’s well-being, even if he hadn’t taken such direct action in doing so before this moment.  

The human sighed, eyes fluttering again as his arms shifted, pressing frozen fingers into Logan’s side. “An--An-Angel?” Logan snorted, shaking his head as he carefully ran his clawed fingers through the human’s hair. “Hardly, You may call me…” He took a breath, it was another rule he shouldn’t break, but he’d already broken at least a dozen already. Why not add a lucky thirteenth to the list? “Logan.”

Odds were the human wasn’t mentally cognizant enough for it to do any harm. If luck was on his side, Virgil would think this whole thing a dream once he really woke up.  

“Lo.” Virgil breathed, his trembling form relaxing as the blue tinge to his skin faded. “Th-th-thanks.” 

Logan swallowed, his hearts stuttering in his chest at the unexpected nickname. Mentally he shook his head, settling them into a more comfortable position where he would be able to leave the human as soon as his body temperature returned to a satisfactory level. 

It was nothing. Nothing. The human probably just couldn’t say his whole name without stuttering. That was it. He’d be back under the bed before Virgil woke and the human would think the whole thing a dream. So this...this was nothing. Everything would return to normal on the morrow where Logan would lurk under the bed and the near-adult would remain unaware of just exactly how his room was managing to stay warmer than the rest of the apartment. 

And yet. 

“You’re welcome.” He whispered, unable to stop running his claws through Virgil’s hair as his shuddering breaths evened out into the steady rhythm of sleep; for once not thinking about picking at the tangle of thoughts faintly twisting above the human’s head. 

To Be Continued Part 2  Part 3

[nbrook29]

💞 my sobbe fic recs part 2 💞

I did the first part in October but since then we have been blessed with so many good fics that I needed to do another one! We are currently experiencing a sobbe drought so these fics are helping us to get through it basically ✌🏻

Part One

✔ if there’s a fic on this list that you decided to give a shot and loved it, please remember about leaving a comment under it to let the author know that

Let’s go!

1k - 5k

let me be your man (let me hold your hand) by thekardemomme (@wlwharrys) | T

Summary: “what if i hold your hands?” robbe asks, voice gentle and soft, all teasing completely gone. sander turns to look at him, and robbe just gives him an encouraging smile. “will that make you feel more comfortable?”at first, sander wants to say no. he’s an adult, he should totally be able to drop in without needing to hold his boyfriend’s hands. but then he looks down the length of the ramp again, and he ends up nodding.

Sander learning how to skateboard. Basically, A FIC WE ALL NEEDED and this writer provided amazingly.

you just own it by noobishere | G

Summary: He bites his lip as he unhooks the jacket, feeling like he's five years old again, snooping around his mother's closet and trying on her heels.(a.k.a the one where robbe wears sander's clothes)

You know, with this writer it’s like, you see who wrote it and you just know it’s gonna be good. And it may be the most trivial idea but they always turn it into something fun. Oh and the pencil line is living in my mind rent free 🤣

paper rings by thekardemomme (@wlwharrys) | T

Summary: When Sander’s nose twitches, causing him to make this soft little whimpering sound, Robbe can’t help himself. He leans forward enough to kiss Sander’s forehead again, and then he dots one on each cheek, and then finally on his nose.“I can’t wait to marry you,” he whispers.

Angsty flugg with such a cute ending, where are my tissues at 🥺🤧

It’s My Turn by isaksliveterna (@to-enter-polaris) | T

Summary: Just little Sander moments through Robbe's eyes as he makes the anniversary video.

Remember Even’s video to Isak? This is sobbe’s version and it’s oh so cute 🥰

5k - 10k

All You’ve Got to Do Is Win by berrevy | T

Summary: “Careful, now.”“Or what?” Robbe walks off, over to his side of the net, voice raising as he goes. “You may as well just draw a picture of you winning cos that’s the only way it’s gonna happen.”It's Sander's turn to splutter. "Jesus...who are you and what have you done with Robbe? Where did this little savage come from?"(or, how that tennis match might've played out)

Oh my god, for me this is perfection ❤ This author can truly capture the real essence of sobbe. And to think I completely missed that fic the last time!

dreaming of you by ivy_seas | E

Summary: Snow, gift giving, wrapping presents, watching movies in bed (+ other activities in bed), celebrating Christmas together.

Sobbe preparing for Christmas together, just the perfect amount of fluff I needed 🤗

you’re my stars... and everything in between by aurorawinds (@robbesdriesen) | M

Summary: A Star-Crossed Lovers, Romeo & Juliet inspired, AU where Robbe and Sander are the sons of Antwerp’s two most rivaling families of tech companies, head over heels in love with one another as they find it more and more difficult each day to hide their relationship from their families. To hide their love.

Are you kidding me. Romeo and Juliet sobbe AU?! I was so into it from the very beginning, THEY ARE SO CUTE OH MY GOD and the angst oh yes

Taking pictures of you as the light came through by allforyoumylove | M

Summary: Robbe photographs Sander in bed. Things take a steamy turn.

It’s not easy to write the perfect amount of fluff as I tend to not like the overly fluffy stories. Somehow this writer always hits the mark and delivers just what I love.

You say you want your freedom by ayellowcurtain (@ayellowcurtain) | G

Summary: Sander is going away for two weeks to do some college stuff with his teacher. He doesn't tell Robbe right away, but he needs time.

This was really interesting and quite different from the usual approach I would say. I think there are very few fics with sobbe “fighting” and I love me a little angst sometimes so this was just *chef’s kiss* 😍 Also, I liked how *spoiler* the ending isn’t just Sander’s bff suddenly liking Robbe but that they rather work around it.

time may change me but I can’t trace time by abittersweetsong (@honeyandsinn) | T

Summary: “You’re my best friend and I love you.”It’s a simple admission and it settles gently in Robbe’s soul Or Robbe and Sander find each other in every universe, but in this one they're best friends first

This is WIP and as a rule I don’t include WIPs in those recs but I’m gonna make an exception because I absolutely loved it and I need this writer to come back and post more 🥺 I’m in love with their writing style and how they make me care about these characters so much ❤

10k - 20k

sander driesen versus mistletoe by dottori | T

Summary: it’s not a fair match. (or, sobbe go on a christmas date, and sander really wants a kiss under the mistletoe.)

This is a very fluffy fluff so proceed with caution 😂 I liked the Christmas vibe here a lot.

hop in the corolla by noobishere | E

Summary: “Oh dear,” Robbe’s mother cuts in. “You haven’t even started your trip and you’re already at each other’s throats.”Sander takes immense pleasure in the way Robbe’s eyes widen in panic, and before Robbe can even warn him with his glares, Sander is already saying, all too gleefully.“We’re always at each other’s throats.”(a.k.a sobbe's summer road trip)

“I found it. It's official. I found the best sobbe fic.” This is the comment I left and I’m still standing by it. It has so many small gems, it’s just UGH. So goooooood 🤩🤩🤩

my hand around the base of you holy neck by allforyoumylove | E

Summary: “All Robbe knew was that Sander was rubbing his hand up and down his back, nails scraping his skin gently, that he smelled like safety, sweet and warm, and that there was nowhere he would rather be than in his arms.”(aka the one where Robbe and Sander are “just” friends with benefits, but the amount of times they call each other ‘baby’ and the way they can’t fucking stop kissing begs to differ.)

Friends to lovers AU. One of my favorite tropes. It’s smutty and fluffy at the same time which, you know, perfection.

Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) by berrevy | M

Summary: Robbe bites down on his lip, shaking his head. “You make a habit of luring boys into your lair?”“Only the pretty ones. Don’t worry, schatje, there’s nothing to be afraid of. And if there is,” Sander shrugs, taking a few more steps backwards, “I’ll protect you.”(aka the boys go on their own private Halloween adventure)

So basically, it was Halloween and wtFOCK so DID NOT deliver and we were all pissed off but then this writer came in and gave us what we deserved. Thanks to this fic I discovered this writer’s other story that is one of my sobbe favorites. Oh the symbolism in this fic. I’m just a big fan of this writer’s style in general 🥰

20k+

this rough magic by aholynight (@aholynight) | M

Summary: Though he’s a sixth-prefect and the newest member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, Muggleborn Robbe can still hardly believe that he’s made of magic. Sander is the seventh-year Gryffindor beater whose wild behavior and delinquent reputation precedes him. Though Robbe desperately wants to believe in the angel-faced boy he sees in front of him—and ignore the rumors of Sander’s devilish behavior—he’s not sure his heart can afford the risk. But when Sander and Robbe are left in a nearly-empty Hogwarts over the Christmas holiday, avoiding Sander might no longer be an option.

I don’t know how I could have missed this one in my last fic rec. Sobbe in Hogwarts. During Christmas. I mean, I’m sold from the start but on top of that this also has a captivating story and made me go 🥺

[iwrestlenow]

Many More To Die

TITLE: Many More To Die

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: For over a thousand years, necromancy has been forbidden in the Kingdoms, the Necromata--its practitioners--feared, reviled, and punished for a power they never asked to wield. Those Necromata who are not killed in the cradle are taken from their families, stripped of their Name--the core of identity and memory--and imprisoned for the rest of their lives.

Logan was twelve when he entered the palace dungeons. Prince Roman was fourteen when he witnessed the young necromancer being brutalized, imprisoned, and left to suffer.

Roman only wanted to offer the other boy comfort, and perhaps a scrap of dignity. He didn't realize his kindness would follow both of them into adulthood--or that Logan would one day become the only person in all the realms that Roman would be able to trust with his life, his heart, and his very soul.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), future Moceit (Patton/Janus) and Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: lots of death because necromancy, slash, and more to come as I figure it out ‘cause it’s late and I’m tired. Also, no betas, we die like men.

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more...hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

1023, A.A.

Necromata.

Sitting in the middle of his cell, twelve year old Logan...Logan choked on tears as his shoulder screamed, his bones ached, and the flickering lights of his cell let his imagination run wild with all manner of monsters and omens of doom lurking within every shadow.

He knew he was lucky—many necromancers were caught in the cradle and killed. Very few survived as long as he had. He could be grateful to his family for that much, that he'd lived long enough to escape a death sentence.

He did have a family. He knew that much—remembered that much. Everything else, they had taken before throwing him into his cell. The prison mage's hand was still a ghost of cold fire against his forehead, worms of icy coal burning through his brain to wipe out every trace of the things that would make him what he was, allow him to be more safely contained.

The name spoken with fear and loathing was all that he had left.

Necromata. The legions of the Animator...the necromancers.

“Psst!”

The hiss echoed off the stone in the corridor, made his heart leap into his chest as he looked around for the source of it.

“Psst! Over here!”

Logan tried to scramble back from the door of his cell, and screamed when he forgot about his dislocated shoulder, collapsing as it gave way under his weight.

“No, don't—please, it's okay. I don't want to hurt you.”

Blinking, Logan squinted into the low light beyond the torches that barely lit his new home. Something bright green flickered there, an outline visible that was vaguely person-shaped.

“Who...who are you?” he asked, curling his injured arm as close to his body as he could so he wouldn't forget again as he got to his feet.

“I...I'm not supposed to say.”

Logan shuffled a little closer to the bars of his cell. “Then how do I know you don't want to hurt me?”

“The prison mage took your Name—you won't understand if I tell you. Just...”

The person-shape on the other side of the bars moved forward, an arm protruding through to set a bowl on the dirt floor of Logan's cell. Inside there was water, and sitting across the rim was a heavy piece of leather.

“I saw what the guard did when you came in. Your shoulder...it happened to me once when I snuck out to hunt for the Lazari.”

“The Lazari don't exist.” Logan replied, reaching up with his good hand to try and wipe some of the tears and snot off his face. “They're a fairy tale, like the Animata.”

“How do you know?”

Logan opened his mouth...then closed it after long moments.

“I...I don't know.” he admitted. “I must have lost it when the prison mage took my Name.”

“Then you could be wrong.” the person-shape insisted, those emerald flecks in the near shadow sparkling with determination. “I'll find a Lazari one day. Just you wait.”

“What does that have to do with my dislocated shoulder?”

“Oh! Sorry—uhm, I did it once. When I snuck out, I fell from a tree and mine popped out. My brother showed me how to use the bars on our window to pop it back in! I threw up, though—and he made me bite a belt so I wouldn't scream.”

The hand appeared between the bars again, nudging the bowl and the leather strap forward a little further.

“I can tell you how to do it.”

Logan shuffled forward a couple more steps, then shifted to kneel in front of the bowl of water.

“I...might know.” He replied, staring at the bowl for a long moment before he peered back into the dark, into the green spark that was his benefactor's eyes. “Thank you.”

The person-shape said nothing for a long moment...

“Berry.”

“What?”

“Berry! The guards called you Logan, right? They took your Name—maybe Berry can be your new one.”

Before Logan could comment, the person-shape grew less distinct, and the flicker of green was gone with the clatter of footsteps scurrying away into the dark.

It was a silly idea—a Name taken could not be restored so easily. Still, the word rattled around in his head along with the one that made his bones ache again.

Necromata. Berry. Necromata. Berry. Berry.

Logan Berry.

Something stirred in the middle of Logan's mind, in his marrow—in the place that magic had scoured out and rubbed raw within the pathways of his brain. Something stirred, settled...

Something slid into place, and all of a sudden the shadows were far less frightening.

Popping his shoulder back into the socket hurt far more than dislocating it had—and yet while he'd sobbed his soul out after being injured, after being robbed of all that made him a person, he shed not a single tear as he put the leather between his teeth, wrenched his joint back into place, and used the fresh water to clean up after he'd emptied his stomach into the corner of his cell.

He even managed to sleep on his pallet of straw, and dreamed of green embers in the dark, drifting into the shadows in his cell and transforming every monster into a friend.

**********

1033, A.A.

“I had the dream again.”

“A kinky one?”

“Sweet leaping gods, Remus!”

The high, strident cackle of his twin brother echoed through Prince Roman's bedchamber, making him wonder yet again why he thought he could talk to the crazy idiot about anything remotely meaningful. Yes, Remus was trustworthy—he gave Roman all manner of hell for the secrets he shared, but had suffered his fair share of indignities to keep his mouth shut—but sometimes he wondered if it was worth the teasing and the laughter to have such a steadfast confidant.

Remus had secrets of his own, after all—the numerous Anima that shared his bed, for one. Like Roman, Remus was fascinated by the Necromata, the true necromancers that all citizens of the Kingdoms were taught to hate and fear. The Anima were little more than pretenders, mages of other disciplines that toyed with the death magic that had been outlawed for over a thousand years.

Still, they had a lot to teach—and made good company, from the way Remus spoke of his dalliances.

“Oh, I'm just yanking your chain, big brother!” Remus assured him, crossing over to drape himself over Roman's back, chin settling on Roman's shoulder to read what his twin was writing as he hunched over his desk. “C'mon now—tell me about the dream, and I'll tell you about the Necromata I fucked last night.”

Roman straightened abruptly at that, unceremoniously sending Remus sprawling to the floor. Turning his chair, he gaped down at his brother and pointed an accusing finger at him.

“You did not sleep with a real necromancer, you lying sack of horse dung!” he hissed. “Why would you even say that in the palace of all places?!?”

“Because the sex was unbelievably good?” Remus offered, shrugging from his place on the floor, flat on his back. “Believe me, Ro Bro, a guy that can't actually feel human contact can keep it up for a nice, long, slow roll in the hay. It's pretty remarkable!”

Roman just huffed, standing from his seat—and promptly sinking to the floor to sprawl out right beside Remus.

“You're lying.” he said simply.

Remus was quiet a long time...then sighed.

“Of course I am. He was just another Animata.”

“Anima. The Animata are a myth, like the Lazari.”

“Since when did you turn into such a brainiac, Roro? We both know I've always been the smart one.”

Roman rolled his eyes with a grin, stretching his leg to kick Remus's ankle—but the truth of the matter was, Remus was right. Between the pair of them, Remus was smarter by leaps and bounds. He was studying the collegiate sciences when he was seventeen, and began his magic training before he'd even reached puberty. The fact that the only part of the sciences he enjoyed were anatomy and mortuary study were entirely besides the point, as was the fact that Remus wasn't actually capable of using magic at all.

He was, as their father lovingly put it, a rogue genius: in possession of an intellect so massive that the rules couldn't restrain him. He either knew too well how to circumnavigate them, or he simply didn't care enough to bother and did what he wanted—what he thought was right, no matter the consequence.

Roman might have been the elder of the twins—by one hour, eleven o'clock of one night where Remus came at midnight the next morning—but he aspired, every single day, to be the maverick that Remus was. He simply lacked the brains...and the courage.

Which was why today, it was Roman their father would be naming as his successor, and not Remus. Roman would be king, would rule by the law and the will of the gods, and Remus would...get to be Remus for the rest of his life, a crown prince without a care in the world.

“Tell me about the dream, Roro.”

Remus's voice was gentle this time, his fingers walking their way along Roman's arm until he could find his hand and weave it into his own.

Roman sighed, staring up at the mural on the ceiling of his bedchamber—a beautifully wrought depiction of the Fall of Death, the final battle between the Animator, the first of the Necromata, and their ancestor, King Thomas Andres, that had saved the Kingdoms over a thousand years ago.

“He was in it.”

“The boy from the dungeons?”

Roman nodded. He could feel Remus watching him...

Just like he could feel the boy from the dungeons watching him every time he had the dream... ********** “He was here again.”

“Jumpin' Jiminy, Lo—are you sure?”

Logan nodded, mostly to himself. Patton couldn't see him, not from the bathtub behind the partition that separated it from the rest of the room, but it hardly mattered—after eight years as cell mates, the two of them had become as close as brothers, as close as twins according to some of the guards that had met the king's identical twin sons.

They had grown so naturally into the relationship, it made Logan wonder sometimes if he'd had a brother before his Name had been taken.

Well...it made him wonder in the early days, at any rate. Logan had stopped wondering many years ago.

Suffice to say, Patton didn't need to see him nod to know that Logan had.

“Well? What'd he do?”

Logan let his mind wander back to the night before—the dream space that he so often occupied, the boy that had come to him in the dark ten years before with a bowl of water, a leather strap, and a name.

The boy he'd come to think of as the Green Man, with those eyes that the dark couldn't fully hide.

“The same thing he always does.” Logan managed to reply, setting down the pen he'd been using in favor of resting his elbows on his desk and steepling his fingers to press against his lips. Among those Necromata imprisoned in the palace dungeons, Logan was quite fortunate: he was allowed a cell mate, access to books and writing implements, even a small window sill garden consisting of plants that couldn't be used for magical purposes.

He was very lucky. Ten years of good behavior had given him an incredible amount of leeway and granted him creature comforts like access to regular bathing privileges. The guards even referred to him by his chosen name.

He was, for all intents and purposes, treated like he was truly human. A prisoner, always, but one the guards and prison mages shared a basic blood connection to, unlike the other Necromata.

“...Lo?...Logan!”

Shaking himself, Logan cleared his throat and tried to beat back the heat he could feel rising in his cheeks, having been caught wool gathering.

“Apologies, I didn't catch that.” he called over his shoulder.

“I said, did he say anything this time?”

Logan shook his head, knowing once again that his actions would be understood rather than seen. Patton asked the same thing every time Logan mentioned the visits, and every time it was the same.

If Patton really knew the content of the Green Man's visitations...

Pressing his fingertips to his mouth again, Logan shut his eyes and let himself remember.

The visits were always in a dream space—for years, before the visitations became more regular, Logan had assumed the Green Man was a guard's son, or the child of some member of the palace staff. Later, when the Green Man came to Logan in his sleep, he figured he was the son of a prison or court mage—who else could manage to dream walk in the mind of even a crippled necromancer like him?

Then again...Logan was different from many prisoners like himself.

In the dream, Logan still cannot see his face. Like those ephemeral dreams from his first few nights in the dungeons, he's little more than shadows with burning points of light the color of fresh shoots just springing from the soil. Over the years, he's become more distinct, but still nothing Logan can give any real definition.

He is a man made of darkness, his eyes reflecting what spark of magic lives within him. They never speak to each other—Logan never dares, secretly apprehensive that disturbing the quiet will somehow end this irregular communion they share.

All the Green Man does is extend a hand, the only part of him Logan can truly see. What was once small and slim fingered has changed over the years into a large hand, broad but lean, tendons standing out below each knuckle and tanned by exposure to the sun. Every time, he reaches out, and every time, Logan takes his hand and just...holds on.

In the dream space, Logan can feel his touch. It's likely a projection, something imagined, but there's strength and warmth in that hand—the pressure of fingers meshing with his own, the heat of palm sealed to palm. There's something under the skin, itchy and trembling, and it makes Logan want to pull away because it's just too much...

The Green Man never lets him. Gradually, the feeling passes, and Logan clings until the feeling returns, crashing over him and sliding back in waves beating the shore of his nervous system.

Logan is always the first to let go. The Green Man makes sure of it—and then he leaves.

“Are you okay, kiddo?”

Logan looked up sharply, twisting to see Patton over his shoulder. His mop of tawny curls is swept back from his face, still dark and wet from his bath, the chill of the cell raising gooseflesh on his bare torso.

He has one hand holding the towel around his waist, and the other resting on Logan's shoulder.

The pressure is barely there, that buzzing awareness of contact easily missed if not expected.

Patton hastily lifts his hand, face screwed up in silent apology. Logan dislikes physical contact, even if he cannot feel it—just like any of the Necromata, so divorced from the living, human populous that they cannot even connect to them through touch.

“Didn't mean to spook you, Lo. Just...you're real quiet. Usually, you got more to say after a visit from You Know Who.”

Logan nodded, then made a point of reaching out to squeeze Patton's hand briefly before letting it go just as quickly.

“Apologies. I suppose I'm just...distracted by today.”

“Yeah—hey, you think the prince'll come down here?” Patton asked hopefully, drawing back to go and find some clothes. “I mean, if he's gonna learn to be king after the ceremony...”

Logan let Patton continue to chatter about the potential for this new ruler to somehow see their plight, somehow be their salvation. He let the words, the hope, wash over him without making contact.

Patton could have hope, because he had no Name. No history, no memory, no past and therefore no future. He was a blank slate, for all intents and purposes, unable to access the power of the Necromata with no life of his own to bind it to.

Unlike Logan. Logan, who no longer wondered if he'd had a brother in his family.

Logan, who could share a dream space, something only mages were capable of.

Logan, who had been given a new name by his benefactor so many years ago, a name that others used daily.

Logan Berry, who even now could feel the essence of every rat behind the dungeon walls, every guard on patrol, every prisoner languishing beneath the lowest floors of the palace...and every noble, every royal, every peasant up above.

Logan Berry, who could not remember his family, but could remember that he once had a brother.

Because, despite the fact that a Name taken could not be restored so easily, Logan had taken a name freely given and made it his own.

A Name, freely given. A life, restored.

Logan could not have hope, because he had the power of the Necromata at his fingertips—and it was only a matter of time before good behavior would no longer be enough to earn him the leeway to stay alive.

[giant-sketches]

Hello everyone and thank you again for enjoying my Mass Emotions AU narrative. As promised I made a little animation for this one. I also want to let you know that this is not a full on story that I plan on finishing, but is something I’d like to keep open ended for us all to explore together. If you’re caught up with all my posts on this then please keep reading to see what I plan next, if not please check out the #mass emotions ts tag and return here later. I plan on putting some spoilers to events that have taken place already and about how I’ve portrayed the sides.

1. While the biggest and most shown relationship is Virgil x Patton they all have more of a polyamorous relationship that can be romantic and platonic. Even if I haven’t shown it yet Roman and Logan actually get along quite well too.

2. They live in a fort/castle where they have their own rooms and a number of facilities. The lab that the testing was done in contains equipment needed to repair any damage the Dark Sides cause and they need to remain at a stable temperature when not on. These devices were all designed and built by Logan.

3. They do live in a kind of mental realm with other people. If you’ve seen the anime Cells at Work it’s kind of like that where the other people are not warriors, but normal workers and civilians. Usually only their environment is affected by the Dark Sides, but say Thomas has an episode or constantly indulges in bad behavior it can begin affecting the people. 

With that being said I’d like for all of you to ask me questions and send prompts for what you all would love to see next of this world. I think it would be fun for us to create our own narratives for this open-ended story of mine. I do still plan on drawing more, but the beginning is complete so there’s no real order to follow anymore. Additionally, I have a short story idea I’ve been working on to share with you all soon that’s something completely different from this current AU. Please look forward to it! Enjoy this current post as well!!!

- Virgil had now grown large enough to slide himself into the covers next to Patton in the bed. He was still pretty small, maybe the size of a child he thought, but he could still get closer to Patton without worry. As he curled up next to Patton, Virgil extended his arm to try and hug him, but didn’t quite reach to his dismay.  Instead he thought back to when he was in Patton’s hand and the soft, warm feeling he felt from Patton’s lips pressing up against him. He wanted Patton to feel the same, but at his current size that wasn’t possible. 

He would have to get bigger, still he hesitated. If he grew too fast he’d wake Patton up and if he couldn’t stop for any reason it would become dangerous. Still his heart wasn’t calming down at the thought of completely embracing Patton entirely. Virgil shifted upwards a bit in the bed and layed a small kiss on Patton’s forehead to reassure himself. When he was always with Patton he felt so safe. He wanted to protect Patton, Logan, and Roman always. He loved them all dearly as his family. With those feelings flooding his thoughts Virgil began to grow. At first it started slow, but quickly accelerated from his excitement. 

He simply couldn’t help himself. He loved the feeling of towering over Patton and holding him close as his arms and hands touched every ounce of his form in a warm embrace. When Virgil was like this he felt like he could keep Patton safe from anything. It gave him a sense of power and confidence in himself. Although, the sudden growth and creaking of the bed had woken Patton up. It didn’t take long for him to notice that Virgil had grown back to a normal size and far beyond as well.

Patton: “Hey kiddo, looks like you’ve grown since I last saw you.”

- Virgil was surprised, but remained still as the bed continued to creak under his weight. Virgil was a little embarrassed to be found by Patton in such a position, but relieved by his joking behavior. 

Virgil: “Sorry I woke you up Pat. I tried my best not too, but I guess I grew a little too fast.”

Patton: “It’s alright!”

- Patton scooched closer to Virgil and stretched his arms out to give him a hug back. Patton’s figure was now completely covered by Virgil’s form. Virgil’s face flushed red in response and he slowly brought his hands closer to Patton’s back to hold him even closer. Patton could hear Virgil’s heartbeat pounding throughout his entire being as he was pressed up against Virgil’s chest. It was a comforting sound he could lose himself in. 

Patton: “I guess you growing so big was your idea then?”

Virgil: “Well I did grow back while I was asleep, but once I woke up I did want to keep growing.”

Patton: “Do you like being big?”

- Unlike last time when he felt bad about admitting he enjoyed growing and being big, Virgil didn’t hesitate to answer. Instead he held Patton even closer and curled his body around him.

Virgil: “I do. It makes me feel like I can protect you and everyone from any danger. I felt really safe when I was being carried in your hands earlier and I want you to feel the same when you're with me.”

- Patton was overcome with joy at Virgil’s words. He was thrilled to see that Virgil no longer saw himself as a monster, but as a guardian. Patton worked his way closer to Virgil’s face as he pressed his own face against it. He then began nuzzling Virgil’s face in a comforting manner. Virgil noticed and titled his head down a bit in order to nuzzle back softly. However, Patton still worried if Virgil could remain big all the time. He definitely wanted him to feel comfortable, but the thought of a mini giant roaming around the realm or even inside the fort was just unrealistic. Perhaps a compromise could be met.

Patton: “I’m really happy to see you being so comfortable with yourself now, but I can’t help thinking that this size might be a bit too much for daily life. It’s already too much for the bed you’ve outgrown.”

Virgil: “I guess you’re right. My legs are technically on the floor and my back is nowhere near the bed anymore. Still...”

Patton: “Listen kiddo, I want you to be comfortable and I also like our big bear hug times like this one. So how about we make a deal where you only get this big or bigger when you're with me and for most of the time you can stay tall, but not big...deal?”

Virgil: “Deal.”

Patton: “Awesome! Now then, think you could shrink back down to that new size of yours before the bed finally kaputz?”

Virgil: “Sure.”

- Virgil closed his eyes and imagined the size he was going for. He wanted to remain tall, tall enough to still pick up Patton from time-to-time and big enough to still give him lots of hugs that completely covered his frame. Virgil rested on 6’10 and opened his eyes to a now astonished looking Patton.

Patton: “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing you do that! Anyway you still seem pretty tall, what size did you set on?”

Virgil: “I went with 6’10.”

Patton: “Wow! That’s more than a foot taller than me!”

Virgil: “Really? How tall are you? I noticed the three of you are pretty much the same height or close to it.”

Patton: “ I’m 5’9 actually. So I’m shorter than Roman who’s 5’10, but taller than Logan who’s 5’8.”

- Patton yawned as he listed off the trios height. Virgil saw that Patton was still tired from the long night.

Virgil: “I had no idea Logan was the shortest.”

Patton: “Uh-huh, he says all his growing energy went to his brain instead.”

- Virgil gave a light chuckle at that remark as he began working his arms back around Patton. Patton had begun fading in and out of consciousness.

Virgil: “We should get back to sleep Pat.”

- Patton was too tired to answer so he just closed his eyes with a slight nod and laid his head up against Virgil’s chest. Allowing himself to fall asleep to that all familiar heartbeat. Virgil pressed his face into Patton’s hair and whispered him a sweet good night as he too closed his eyes.

To be continued.

@avenirunknown @paranoidgurl @enby-phoenix @pattonvirglsanders @suckedinfandoms @crystalk17 @just-some-gt-trash @gentlegiantdreamer @sanders-sides-virgil @bluegreeninbtwn @notkolaidoscop @lgbtqiaemo

[art-dump-for-avery]

Been a while but I'm alive

Proportion and clothing physics practice with mutb au Roman. I f*cked up a few times, but that's what practice is for.

THAT'S. 👏 WHAT. 👏 PRACTICE. 👏 IS. 👏 FOR. 👏

[mikes-on-prometheus]

A Different Kind of Birthday

It’s Virgil’s fourth birthday. It’s not what he had expected it to be.

Based on this prompt by [em]: maybe an au in which Virgil was adopted and celebrates his first birthday with his family.

Relationships: parental moxiety

Warnings: sickness (flu), vomit mention, hurt/comfort, “ruined” birthday

Wordcount: about 800

Read on AO3

---

When Patton adopted a three year old boy, he had expected his life to change and change it did! 

Late Sunday mornings spent eating breakfast and watching cartoons with his baby instead of on his own.

Sleeping in on free days with a warm little weight snuggled in against his side or on top of his chest.

Packing a leak-proof bottle with cartoon raccoons printed on it in addition to his old thermos.

A to-go pack of wet wipes in each of his bags.

Late nights calming his shaking little boy down from a nightmare or a scary monster under his bed.

Yes, Patton’s life hasn’t been the same since Virgil came into his life but he wouldn’t want it to be any other way. He was finally a father and the father of an amazing little boy at that!

A little boy who was turning four today, Patton dimly remembered as something tugged at his blanket, pulling him into wakefulness. Another thing that had changed with Virgil - Patton was now a very light sleeper.

“Hmm Vee?” he asked, turning over to look at his little guy trying to climb onto the bed.

“Daddy,” the toddler said mournfully. “I feel icky.”

“Oh buddy, what’s wrong?”

Patton scooped Virgil up, feeling even through the night shirt that the child was quite warm, most definitely running a fever. His shirt was wet with sweat and a sour smell clung to him.

“Had an accident:” he admitted softly, pointing to the stain on the front of his shirt.

Of course. Vomit would explain the sour odor.

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. Did you throw up on your blankets?” he cooed, getting a timid nod as answer. “Alright. Let’s get you and your blankies cleaned up, yeah? And then we can snuggle on the couch and watch some cartoons.”

When he got another nod he pushed back his blankets to get up, cradling Virgil’s shaking body against his chest.

His first stop was the bathroom where he prepared a lukewarm bath for Virgil to try and get his temperature down a little. “Can you stay here on your own for a minute? Daddy’s gonna go and strip your bed so we can wash it. I’ll be back in a second.”

Virgil held his hand out for him, giving his father his heartbreakingly sad puppy dog eyes. “Promise?”

“Oh baby of course! Cross my heart, I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.”

And because Patton was a man of his promise, he stripped the toddler’s bed as quickly as he could and returned to the bathroom the moment he’d thrown the washing machine on so he could help Virgil clean up.

Soon he had a little bundle of towels in his lap as he dried Virgil’s hair. “This isn’t a nice birthday, is it? I had imagined it to go differently. But we’ll do some fun stuff to remember your birthday as soon as you feel better okay?”

“Awkay. Can I have Tommy?” 

“Of course. We’ll get Thomas from your room when your hair is nice and dry. I bet he’d be happy to help you feel better.” he assured, smiling at the name Virgil had given his stuffed bat.

They did end up getting Thomas the bat from Virgil’s room before going to the living room. Virgil was soon asleep in Patton’s lap, wrapped in his snuggly blanket and holding Thomas tightly.

Patton used the moment’s quiet to open the group chat he’d used to organise and coordinate his son’s birthday party.

Patton: hey guys, v’s bday is cancelled. bby boy’s got a fever, probably the flu :(

Roman: oh no! Our poor little prince! And on his first birthday with you!

Logan: That does sound unpleasant. Please take care of yourself and Virgil, Patton. I can pick up medication on my way home after work should you need any.

Patton: aw thanks lo! I think we’re fine for the moment, i gave him some kids tylenol and he’s sleeping rn!

Maybe he’d sent that message a little prematurely since Virgil stirred a few minutes later, whining against Thomas’ head.

“Hi baby, it’s okay. Daddy’s got you.” he said softly, hoping to soothe the boy back to sleep.

Patton’s efforts weren’t successful but that was fine. He would take care of his Virgil.

He had known that his life would change with a child and he was happy to adapt. So what if he had to change his plans and Virgil’s birthday wasn’t as happy as he’d planned it to be? He would have many more birthdays to celebrate and be happy. One little flu wouldn’t take that away. And with his father loving him unconditionally life could only get better for Virgil.

---

Taglist:  @3-has-charm  @adreamisadishyourmommakes  @analogical-mess @bubbliee0  @iris-sanders-athena @letthefandomsbegin @emthetimelady @ilovereadingandilovebreathing @ravenwashere1776 @stormcrawler75 @soulwillriseinperfectlight

[amintyworld]

All These Years - Sanders Sides TTRPG AU Oneshot

A/N: Hey guys! So… this has been in the making for a while. It’s based on a Sanders Sides Tabletop Roleplaying Game AU (Example: Dungeons and Dragons) by @ask-fantasy-sanders-sides, so if you’re interested you should totally check them out, the amount of detail and work put into it is amazing. A special thanks to Mango, the creator of the AU, for answering my constant messages and questions, thank you so much this fic would not be the same without you! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this angsty fic! - Minty

Summary: Due to his drow blood, Virgil must watch his friends die as the years go by. Will he find happiness in a world without them?

TW: Major Character Deaths, blood, injury, violence, vomiting. (Tell me if I missed anything else!)

———————————

20 years, 8 months, and 15 days. 

That’s how long he’d been alone. Or at least, physically alone.

After all this time he still couldn’t get the image of Logan laying on that bed out of his brain. It was strange.

After Patton had passed, they got closer. They both had lost a lot over the years, and Virgil didn’t want to lose more. He didn’t want that feeling of his heart being ripped to pieces as his family left.

Logan was the only family he had left.

They both spent their days reading books, watching their family grow and grow. The house was always filled with laughter and mysterious messes of various kinds. The house had gotten so big that he and Logan had to be moved to a small guest house next to it. Virgil loved to sit out on the porch in the rocking chairs Patton had made and look at the toddlers and children play in the treehouse Roman constructed to look like a tiny castle. He counted the seconds as the sun rose and fell, watching children and students alike file inside as he stared into space, always giving him a glance before getting through the door.

Sometimes, he’d find Logan up on the hill with the willow, just looking at the graves. Most of the time, he left things - books, pictures, flowers. Virgil always wondered what was going through his mind, what he might be feeling. Logan was not the emotional type, and Virgil just wanted to help him somehow, someway, as the elf had done for him. He always sat with him, not saying a word, holding Logan’s hand in his to give him some kind of comfort.

“I miss them, Virgil.” Logan’s voice was soft. Virgil looked at the graves and sighed.

“I know, Lo,” Virgil said. “I…do too.”

Both sat in a sort of comfortable silence for a few moments, a cold wind blowing leaves and hair around the sound of it filling Virgil’s ears before it calms down once more.

“Virgil, I…” Logan said, holding his necklace - Patton’s gold wedding band on a plain white string around his neck, yellowed over the years - for a bit of comfort. “I can’t help but wonder about Patton, you know - Janus, Remus, Roman…”

“You know that Roman and Remus wouldn’t take their eyes off us for a second, Teach,” Virgil said, smiling as his eyes began to water, thinking of them. “They’re probably still arguing over who died more heroically.”

Logan and Virgil shared a laugh as they both looked into the sky, almost as if expecting to see them. Virgil continued, his chest clenching uncomfortably. “Janus would come to break those two up before they bit each other’s heads off, and then he’d most likely get beat up in the process.” Virgil smiled, a few tears slipping down his cheeks that he didn’t even realize. “Patton… Patton would just look down at us and smile. He’s proud of you, you know.”

“W-well,” Logan said, his voice pained as his grasp on the ring got tighter. “Please excuse me if I don’t find a reason why.”

“Logan, you… you’ve done so much for me, for the kids-” Virgil said. “You’ve been taking care of them, helping them, writing a book - Me? All I’ve done since Patton died is just sit in a chair and watch!”

“Well, at least you actually grieved!” Logan snapped, tears streaming down his face. “I just threw myself into my work and pretended it didn’t matter. That HE didn’t matter-!”

“Logan, I know as well as you that you don’t think that,” Virgil said, looking at Logan with sincerity. “You loved Patton, and you still do. You love him more than anything. You keep his wedding ring around your heart because you do hurt, Logan. You hurt because he mattered so, so much to you.”

Logan wiped away his tears, Virgil at his side, holding his hand. “It hurts a lot, Virgil. It hurts more than it should sometimes.” Logan choked, tears rolling down his face. 

“I…I know, Logan. I know.”

———————-

“Great Grandpa Virgil!”

Virgil’s eyes snapped open as he turned around to the halfling child - Bright red hair, freckles, and green eyes. Virgil smiled. “Duris.” The child halfling rushed in for a hug, and Virgil smiled, laughing a bit as he awkwardly embraced her. “Whatcha doing here, Dur?” Virgil asked his great-grandchild.

“Getting hugs, obviously,” Duris smirked. “What’s the plan for today?”

“Hm,” Virgil smirked. “What do you want it to be?”

That’s how Virgil ended up playing hide-and-seek in his own house - he closed his eyes and tried to smile as he heard the pitter-patter of feet. Duris was an incredibly sweet and determined girl. She visited Virgil every day she could, and Virgil more than appreciated the company. After all, he was barely visited now that the others were gone. 

Years of staying in this house, of watching the days go by, not speaking much to anyone - no wonder some of the kids avoided him. Either out of fear or just a lack of care. The others were better with the conversation, and with them gone, so went the days the house seemed alive with chatter and laughter.

It was hard to believe so long ago he thought he needed no one. Now, for the first time in his life, Virgil was filled with painful loneliness. All he ever did now between visits with Duris was just staring out the window toward the tree on the hill with the gravestones standing tall. All he could do now is close his eyes and revel in memories of joy and compassion. 

Virgil tried pushing the thoughts out of his head as he opened his eyes, slowly moving out of his chair without a sound, listening for breathing. He crept down the hallways of the house, smiling. Duris always had the best hiding spots, but it never stopped Virgil from finding her. He looked under tables and in cupboards and cabinets, and even at the ceiling.

Nothing. Virgil sniffed as his senses flared, and he grabbed the nearest weapon - a kitchen knife. Something was wrong. Duris wasn’t in the house.

Slowly, silently, he moved quickly around the house, listening intently, and following the faintest sound. He quickly scampered up a tree, huffing a bit from the effort. Suddenly he heard a cry and jumped from tree to tree, following it. He jumped the beast from above, pinning it to the floor and quickly holding the knife to its throat. The small beast, about twice the size of the small child, stared down Virgil intently. Virgil’s gaze fixed on the monster, unmoving. 

The beast growled as low as it could muster. Virgil growled lower, barking at it, shaming it for its actions and telling it to never return. He would’ve killed it right there - good meal. But he didn’t want to scare Duris off, and besides, it was just a baby. He let it go as the beast skidded away quickly in fear. He nodded as the thing disappeared into the darkness, a mission well done. 

He quickly turned to Duris. “Are you alright, Dur? Did it hurt you?” Virgil checked the girl over to find a few deep cuts, but Duris scooted away. 

“V, I’m fine.” She waved off, smiling. “That was amazing, Grandpa!” Virgil quickly scooped the child in his arms and rushed back to the house. “H-huh?”

“Dur, you shouldn’t go near the fence.” He responded, getting back to the guest house and grabbing some medical supplies. He quickly pushed Duris down on a nearby table and set to work patching her up. 

“I was just-”

“You were being stupid. That’s what you were doing, Duridili.” Virgil interrupted, using the full name Duris resented. Duris gave him a look, and she sighed. 

“Fine, I was being - ugh!” Duris grunted as Virgil disinfected the wound. “I was being s-stupid. But, I.. I saw these flowers and I thought you’d…” Her breath hitched again. “Press down on the cloth harder, don’t ya?” She snapped a bit, and Virgil looked up with a glare. 

——————————–

 Roman winced as Virgil disinfected the slashes on his back. “You need to be more careful, you could’ve really hurt yourself!”

Roman chuckled through the stinging pain. “Aw, is my Dark and Stormy Knight worried about me?” Tears pricked Roman’s eyes as the pain increased, the disinfectant pressed against his wounds harder. “UGH-!” Roman’s voice cursed under his breath as another intense pain wave arrived. “Please, add more disinfectant, don’t mind me.” He quipped.

“Hey, I’m not the one who jumped off a cliff.” Virgil snapped back. He dipped the bloodied cloth in the bowl, rinsing it before dabbing the liquid on the blood-red slashes and scrapes. He sighed. “I’m not worried, Roman. You’re just stupid sometimes.” Virgil insisted. “Though it would be helpful if we didn’t have to waste supplies on your stupidity.”

“HEY-!”

——————————-

“Virgil?! Grandpa V!?”

Virgil snapped back to reality quickly. His eyes scanned around, trying to figure out where he was. “Dur…?”

“You spaced out, you were… mumbling again.” Duris quickly clarified. “You mumble a lot, are you okay, Grandpa?”

“Uh… fine. I’m fine, Duris.” Virgil’s eyebrows furrowed, and he tightened the bandage before securing it tightly. “You should go rest for a few days and keep an eye on it for me, alright?” Virgil helped her to the door. “No training.”

“Aw…” Duris sighed. 

“Sorry, that’s the rules.” Virgil smiled, getting level with the girl before whispering. “Apparently if you go train, you may alert the bugs. I heard they take rule-breaking kids.”

Duris smiled mischievously with a front tooth missing, getting into a fighting stance. “No bugs gonna get meh!”

“Good.” Virgil ruffled her red locks. “Now go home.”

Virgil got up, leaning against the doorframe of the house with his arms crossed, smiling as the redheaded girl rushed home in the sunset. 

——————————-

It had started as a cough. The two were reading in the study when a cough interrupted Virgil’s reading and he looked up. “Lo, are you alright?”

Logan gave a reassuring smile to his worried friend. “Virgil, I’m fine. My throat’s just a little dry.”

With that, the two went back to their calm afternoon of reading. A crisp autumn breeze swept through the window, blowing through Virgil’s hair and making him shiver, pulling the blankets around him closer. Logan was re-reading The Murder of Agatha Christie, looking content while sipping his afternoon tea. Virgil skimmed the page of poetry in front of him, relaxing as he heard the poem aloud in his mind.

“ACHOO-!”

Virgil’s eyes quickly looked up to his friend, sneezing into the elbow of his coat. “Your throat’s dry, huh?” He smirked, hiding his anxiety - he worried it could be something serious, though, from the looks of it, it looked to be a mere cold. “Seems like someone’s sick.”

“Virgil, please. It was one sneeze and a cough, I swear to you I am-” Logan barely finished his sentence before he doubled over in a coughing fit, shaking, his book dropped to the floor. Virgil rushed over quickly. 

“We should get you to bed.”

His anxiety and worry grew, a part of him saying that Logan was sicker than he seemed, that he could die and then he’d be all alone-

No. Don’t think about that right now. Help Logan. Logan. Logan is the priority right now.

As soon as Logan was settled into bed, Virgil called for the healer. Logan insisted he was fine but Virgil pushed him back into bed, and he eventually fell asleep with a mountain of blankets on top of him. With nothing to do but wait, Virgil paced outside the door, trying to keep calm and breathe. His hands itched to do something, but he never left Logan’s side.

His hands twitched as he paced, breathing heavily.

——————————

Virgil worked on the skin of his latest hunt, trying to gather more furs for the coming winter season. He needed the gear for a good coat, the warmth of the normal ones wasn’t enough to keep out the chill on his bones. Virgil hummed to himself, closing his eyes for a moment…

Virgil jolted, his eyes wide open as he heard a loud screech, looking around. He saw shadows crossing the windows, running to grab his bow when something tackled him quickly to the ground. Whoever it was covered his mouth tightly, and Virgil began to struggle when a familiar face greeted him. 

That short red hair and dopey grin. Roman. But… but how?! He… he was… he was….

“Quiet, Virge.” Roman said softly, slowly taking his hand off Virgil’s mouth. “That… that thing senses sound and movement. We need to be smart about this.”

He looked around…. There was Remus, Patton, Logan… they were all here except… Janus.

What was going on?!

Remus looked to his brother. “We need to do something fast, Ro. We can’t let that thing get the kids.”

KIDS?!

Logan and Patton held soft and small bundles in their hands. Two of them. Something about this was really strange. This seemed so familiar… what was he forgetting?

“You’re right. We can’t just be sitting ducks.” Roman and Remus’s eyes met, if only for a moment. A non-verbal exchange of words that meant everything. “Are you with me, Brother?”

Remus only smiled. “Till the end of time.”

Roman turned to the rest. “You three should stay in here. You’re dead meat outside. Me and Rem will handle this.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “What?! That’s crazy. If we don’t stand a chance neither can you.”

“We have wings, Lo. We’ll be fine. Just keep the kids safe.”

That’s when everything began to click in Virgil’s mind. Memories. This was when Remus and Roman - No. No no no! Virgil grabbed Roman’s arm as he turned to leave. “Roman, you can’t! Please, we’ll figure out something else, just please don’t go. Both of you, just don’t…” Tears welled in Virgil’s eyes. 

“Virge?” Roman said, looking at his friend. “I promise, me and Remus will be fine. We’ll defeat it and be back before you know it.” Roman squeezed Virgil’s hand as he hugged him closely. “I love you, okay?”

Suddenly, he looked around, startled by the sound of the door, and looked down at his tear soaked pelt. He tried to quickly wipe away his tears, remembering what Logan always told him - he couldn’t change the past, no amount of wishing, praying, or even magic can change what happened. It just… happens, and life goes on. Even so, Virgil couldn’t help holding the hand Roman squeezed to his heart. He didn’t know if Roman could hear him, or if he was even watching him from above, so little could explain what he did next.

“I love you, too.” He whispered as he heard steps down the hall. 

The young girl had grown quickly before Virgil’s eyes, around 12 now, her long red locks chopped off and determined to become a guard and protector for King Thomas’s son, King Lykos. Virgil knew Duris would always protect them.

But, when Virgil turned around, it wasn’t just Duris. A young boy with gray drow-like skin, yet no fangs or yellow eyes. Instead, they were a chocolate brown paired with a messy mop of black hair. “Oh hey Grandpa Virgil, I brought a… friend?” The boy looked to Virgil, and practically froze right there, scampering behind Duris to hide. Duris turned around to face the boy, giving him a comforting smile, reminding him or himself and Patton back in the day. “It’s okay, he’s not gonna hurt you, I promise.”

The kid smiled back and slowly replaced his old spot by Duris’s side. Virgil slowly approached as not to frighten the child, getting on a knee to be more level and giving him a warm smile. “Hey there. I don’t bite, I promise.”

The kid approached, looking at Virgil with slight curiousity. “I’m Skia. I’m… Duris’s friend.”

“Well, any friend of Duris’s is a friend of mine.” Virgil said, slowly getting up. It was a bit jarring how hard it was to do, but he quickly shrugged it off. 

Duris smiled widely. “Grandpa, you gotta finish the story! The one about the beasts!”

“Which ones?” Virgil asks, smirking. 

“You know which ones! The ones with the goo and the teeth!” Duris smiled, pointing a playful accusatory finger at Virgil. At this, Skia looks to Virgil, interested. 

“Displacer Beasts? You encountered one?”

“Not just one, like… a zillion!” Duris said proudly. “During the dark season. My Grandpa Virgil took them all on by himself.”

“Well, not exactly, Dur.” Virgil interjected. “There were only eight, and no one, not even me, can take eight Displacer Beasts on alone.” Virgil moved to sit on his chair as Duris rushed to sit at his feet, tapping the spot next to her as Skia sat down. 

“Then… what happened?” Skia asked curiously.

“Well, like I told you, no one can take eight Displacer Beasts on alone, but I was determined to try. I was hard-headed back in the day, and stubborn as a mule. Despite all this, I was given love even when I had not given them any in return.” Virgil began, before Duris quickly interjected.

“Grandpa Patton, Grandpa Logan, and Grandpa RoRo!” She smiled, and Virgil nodded. 

“That’s right. I cared for them as much as they did for me, possibly even more. So, when we were surrounded by beasts I was ready to make any sacrifice, even myself, to make sure they were safe.”

———————————–

They told him there wasn’t anything they could do for him. He’d gotten a chill, and with his age…there wasn’t much to do but hope he’d fight off the sickness. “The man is 163, Virgil. It’s a miracle he’s survived this long.”

“But there’s gotta be something, some kind of magic, or potion, or…o-or…” Virgil begged, looking toward the bedroom with worry. 

“Virgil, I’m sorry, but-”

“I’ll do anything, please! Take my magic, my blood, my life, anything at all! Just… just let him live…” Virgil’s voice cracked slightly from pain, and emotion welled up in his throat as the healer eyed him with sympathy and concern. She slowly took his hand in her own, rubbing circles into his palm.

“If there’s anything Logan needs right now, it’s you. Just be there. Help take care of him and make sure he stays in bed, and if… if it really is the end, at the very least he had you to hold his hand.” She said calmly, trying her best to comfort him. “I’m so sorry, if I could do something I would…”

The two embraced, pulling away from each other but hands still held together in friendship and comfort. “Make sure he eats, monitor his temperature, and don’t let him out of that bed. If you ever need me you know where to find me, okay?”

Virgil just nodded as she turned, flipping her hood up as she grabbed her bag and left out the door, leaving Virgil alone. It took Virgil a few minutes to sit there, head in his hands, trying to breathe, and trying to wrap his head around everything. Then, he found himself slowly moving toward the bedroom, quietly heading inside. Logan sat on the bed, looking up at Virgil as he entered. Virgil tried to muster a smile to his friend as he sat down next to the bed. “Hey Lo…”

“It’s not good, is it?” Logan said, breaking the awkward silence as he looked to his friend. Virgil could barely look Logan in the eyes as emotion once again welled up in his throat. Should he tell him? Would it be harder or easier to not have him know? Virgil just looked at his lap, hands fidgeting, not knowing what to do, or what to say. Then, Logan’s outstretched hand landed on his knee, and softly squeezed. Virgil slowly met Logan’s eyes - the strands of grey in his white hair, the few wrinkles and age showing just how old he’d become, yet his eyes still held the same shine as they did when they met, full of wisdom and curiosity. 

Tears slowly fell from Virgil’s eyes as Logan’s began to water, looking at his friend with a comforting smile, and soon the two embraced, holding each other tightly as they cried.

————————————

“Elder Virgil, we need a word, if you have a minute?” Virgil looked up from Logan’s quarterstaff in his lap, and nodded, putting it aside and moving outside, grabbing his fur-lined cloak. Snow coated the ground as Virgil walked outside, watching children - the small and the tall, the old and the young - playing in the snow, laughing and smiling. His heart warmed watching them. 

“What seems to be the trouble, Hyfrid?” Virgil asked, turning his attention to the elf in front of him with black eyes and blonde, curly hair that was tied up to the top of his head in a bun. 

“Well, we’ve been having a few attacks near the southeast edge of the fence, a pack of dire wolves moved into the area. We’ve sanctioned off the area for now and sent a hunting party, but they haven’t returned and-”

“And you want me to deal with it?” Virgil questioned. 

“We were hoping you had any ideas on how to deal with them, seeing as you’re as close as a monster expert as we have.”

Virgil leaned on his cane as he stood up, and Hyfrid followed suit. Virgil looked at him. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Are you going to show me where they are, or am I just going to have to scope it out?” Virgil asked, and Hyfrid looked confused. 

“You’re not seriously thinking about fighting the entire pack yourself?”

“There’s a problem that needs dealing with, so let’s go deal with it, huh?” Virgil said simply, moving and leaning on his cane slightly as he moved, walking southern, checking to make sure his dagger was where it should be, and smiling to find he hadn’t forgotten it. Hyfrid looked dumbfound, running to keep up. 

“As much as we appreciate your help, Elder Virgil, you…you’re not- we can handle this one ourselves, no need to worry-”

“Oh, I’m not worried, Hyfrid. A pack of dire wolves is a lot simpler to deal with than you think.” Virgil said. “Just gotta take down the alpha and we should be good to go. Will make a nice pelt, too.” He saw the wolves from a distance. “Ah, there we are.” He held out his cane to Hyfrid. “Would you hold this, please?”

Hyfrid slowly took the cane. “Elder Virgil, I really don’t think-”

Virgil jumped the fence and slowly approached the wolves, growling, as two others came to join them, one moving in front. Virgil quickly took his dagger and charged, striking it in the head as its claws sank into his arm and he winced slightly as the wolf went limp. The other wolves, at this began to slowly approach and growl, but Virgil simply laid the dead wolf on the ground, got on his hands and knees, and began to growl back, barking before running at them, chasing them away. He then stood up, satisfied, as he went back to get the wolf pelt.

“I told you Hyfrid, take down the Alpha and they’ll run away with their tails between their legs.”

—————————————-

“There’s got to be another way. You can’t leave.” Virgil said as he sat, watching Patton begin to pack. “It’s not safe out there alone, Pat.”

“I can’t just leave Thomas, he needs me. The kingdom’s at war again and he needs help.” Patton said, turning to grab his cloak. 

“Then why don’t we just all go? It’ll be safer.” Virgil asked. 

“Not with kids it won’t be. With the war right now, it’s not safe for them to travel.” Patton explained. “You and Logan need to stay here and make sure they’re safe. Thomas called on us, I’m the one who needs to go. From the letter, he’s not doing so well.”

Logan walked in the room and looked at Patton. “Finally got them all to sleep. They’re all worried about you, dear.”

“I can’t say I don’t agree, Pat.” Virgil said. “Thomas has other people there, you don’t need to go. Just stay, please.”

“I promise I won’t be gone long, okay? Around a week at most.” Patton said, shouldering a bag full of supplies. “Take care of the kids, make sure you get them to bed on time, and I promise I’ll be home soon.” Patton said, turning to leave and facing Logan, who slowly took his hands in his and brought them up to kiss the palms, making Patton smile. 

“I know you can handle yourself out there, but even so I can’t help but worry. Please… please be safe.” Logan said, as Patton brought his hand up to cup Logan’s cheek lovingly. “I don’t know what I’d do if…if…”

“Hey. I’m not going anywhere, Logie. I promise I’ll be back before you know it.” Patton kissed Logan’s cheek lovingly. “I love you.”

“I…I love you too, Patton.”

No one could have known. No one could have predicted it. It was a heavy thunderstorm, lightning cracking against the walls and sending the little ones to shivers. Logan sat, calming the children down as they dove to hide under the blankets, and telling stories. Virgil sat tending the fire and cooking the meal for the night’s dinner, smiling as he listened in on Logan’s story. 

No, they couldn’t have known, but that doesn’t mean the guilt goes away.

Virgil’s ears perked up at the sound of hooves outside as they suddenly came to a stop. Then, a knock at the door. Logan and Virgil share a glance as Logan gets up from his spot and Virgil as few paces behind, standing near Logan’s previous spot. The thunder boomed as the rain hit the roof in its own symphony. Logan opened the door.

“Thomas? What are you doing… where’s Patton?” Logan asked. The King looked saddened, and Virgil’s heart began to whisper ‘Oh no… not again…’ “Where’s Patton?” Logan repeated, and Thomas looked up to him. 

“He…he got ambushed, I sent out my best men looking for him, but… he was just… gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean gone?!” Logan yelled, and Thomas looked saddened again, staring at the floor. “Goddammit, answer me!”

Thomas took Logan’s hand, and slowly dropped something in the palm, closing it. “I’m… I’m so sorry, I…” Thomas seemed at a loss for words before turning around, getting on his horse and leaving. Logan still stood there, with the door open, rain splattering the ground outside, his palm closed tightly, stunned. 

A few of the older children had led the others into the bedroom, promising more stories, knowing that the two needed their privacy, not really knowing what was going on. Virgil slowly moved to put his hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Lo…?” Logan silently closed the door, and moved to sit next to the fire. Virgil’s stomach sank. Something was wrong. “Logan, is he…?”

Logan slowly took Virgil’s hand, and placed a golden wedding band inside it.

————————————————–

Duris had grown up to be a recruit and eventually fighter in King Lykos’s regime. She wrote many letters to Virgil and even visits when she can. Even though Virgil is happy and proud of Duris, he still misses their games of hide-and-seek and the hours telling stories. Skia grew up to be a researcher of different lands, and sends letters when he can to Virgil about his findings and adventures, much more scarce than Duris’s. 

Virgil relies more and more on his cane as the months pass, and soon enough can’t get up the hill anymore to visit the graves, and even just moving around becomes a struggle. Even though the family offers, Virgil insists he doesn’t need anyone to take care of him, and he can take care of himself just fine. The days bore on without Skia or Duris to fill it, Virgil staring out the window, remembering. 

Remembering hot chocolate and tea over jokes and books and smiles. 

Remembering sparring and practice and pride. 

Remembering acceptance and love and joy.

Remembering forgiveness and family. 

Remembering loss and grief and sadness.

Remembering Duris and Skia. 

Remembering Logan, Janus, Patton, Remus, and Roman.

Until one day, he stares out the window and can’t seem to remember anything. He struggles to remember, he has to remember! He couldn’t forget his love for them. He couldn’t have! He moved quickly around the house, looking at pictures and rings and staffs and swords, remembering bits and pieces at a time. He was determined if he couldn’t visit the graves, he was going to remember them. Forgetting them, it was like losing them all over again.

As he reached for a journal of Logan’s, he grabbed the book but lost his footing on the ladder, falling, falling, falling until he crashed into complete darkness. 

————————————-

Virgil read to Logan every day, no matter how boring the book. He made sure he reads all of Logan’s favorites. Logan coughed and sneezed between smiles, always leaning his head against Virgil’s shoulder as they read, eyes closed and peaceful, sometimes fast asleep. 

Virgil always made soup for Logan, smelling hearty and flavorful, which half the time ended up somewhere in a bag or on the floor by the afternoon. Virgil doesn’t mind, and gave him bread to eat instead when Logan’s stomach lurched. 

Despite Virgil’s 24-hour care for him, his condition slowly begins to deteriorate to coughing up mucus, to coughing up blood. His temperature flares, and his just lies in bed, lying in pain and suffering, struggling to sleep most nights. 

The two lay on the bed, hands linked together, staring up at the ceiling, a book they’d been reading laying open on top of Virgil’s stomach. “Virgil?”

“Hm?”

“Can you promise me something?”

“What?”

“When I… die, you need to move on. You can’t… blame yourself for any of this, you couldn’t have done anything, you know?”

“I…I know, Logan.”

“You can’t focus on the past, okay? It can’t be changed, no matter how much you wish it could. Be… be happy. Take care of yourself. Never be afraid of having family, of having friends who love you as much as we did.” Logan said, stopping for a silent moment. “We… don’t forget how much we love you. How much I love you.”

“I won’t, I…I promise.” Virgil said. “I love you so much, okay? And… and if you see the rest of those idiots up there, make sure they know how much I love them.”

“I promise.”

Nothing else was said that night, and Virgil woke up the next morning, quickly realizing Logan had passed in his sleep, his cold hand still wrapped around Virgil’s. Virgil slowly gave Logan’s forehead a parting kiss, and it was all over.

Then, Virgil was left alone.

—————————————–

Virgil was overly aware of his heartbeat as the world came to once again, a healer he couldn’t recognize patting his head with a cloth, staining it red. “Ah, there we are again! Welcome back. You took quite a fall there, scared us all half to death.”

“I fell?”

“Yep, quite a fall if I do say so myself. Cracked a few ribs, I might add. Once I’m done bandaging your head here, I’ll recheck your vitals for any more problems. Just hang in there, alright?”

Virgil’s eyes began to wander to the ceiling, letting his mind drift…

“Virgil? Virgil…?” The voice was familiar, he hadn’t heard it in years. He wanted to reach out and-

“Hey! Hey. Sir, I need you to stay awake, alright? Just stay with me, please.”

Virgil felt so tired, but tried his best to keep his eyes open…

“Virgil?! Oh I’ve missed you so-”

“Sir, SIR! Please don’t fall asleep on me.” The healer seemed anxious, but Virgil was far from anxious, he was tired, so tired… His heartbeat thumped louder and louder in his ears. 

“Virgil, I’ve waited so long to give you a hug again! You have no idea how much I’ve missed you!”

He felt colder and colder, the spot on his head growing warmer and warmer until it was boiling, and he felt someone press hard against the pain, making it worsen. He was in so much pain, he just wanted to sleep…

“Virgil, I love you.”

“I love-” “-you.”

[today-only-happens-once]

Ikigai

Title: Ikigai

Word Count: 5,955

Summary: Ikigai. (n.) a reason for being; the thing that gets you up in the morning. Or, five times Logan Sanders doubted himself as a father, and one time he didn’t. Human!AU, Parents!Logicality with focus on Paternal Analogical dynamics with moments of Paternal Logince dynamics as well.

Warnings: cursing, crying, lots of self-doubt, adoption, hospitals, car accident mention, vague mentions of death/dying, absent father/abuse in the form of emotional neglect (not perpetrated by any canon characters), anxiety and panic-attacks, mentions of depression, fluff, softness.

A/N: This fic kind of happened by accident almost. I hope it’s okay! Got some mixed feelings about it. I hope you enjoy. Edited by yours truly so all mistakes are mine. Shout-out to @creativenostalgiastuff for her help in brainstorming a few things for this fic.

 I.

The hospital linoleum floor is waxed so thoroughly that Logan thinks he can see his reflection between his shoes. The small room is crowded with nurses and a doctor as they prepare the person in the bed to move to recovery. Logan promises to check up on her soon. She gives him a tired but content smile. He does his best to stay out of the way, shifting along the wall to stand by the window that has its blinds drawn.

“Logan,” his husband says in a quiet voice.

“Yes?” Logan looks up, coming up suddenly short at the sight before him.

Patton’s flop of brown curls fall messily into his eyes. The fluorescent lights above them reflect in the lens of his glasses, even as his gaze is latched onto the bundle of cream-colored blankets in his arms. Nestled against his chest, Patton looks down at the newborn in his arms with something in his eyes that Logan can’t quite pinpoint. Love, clearly. But something else at the same time. Devotion, perhaps.  

“You wanna hold Virgil?” Patton asks, finally glancing up to meet his husband’s eyes. It’s then that Logan can see the beginnings of tears forming in the corner of Patton’s eyes.

Logan is an astrophysicist. His entire life had always centered on figuring out the universe and humanity’s place in it. He worked in fields of science and research, frequently writing long reports, dissertations, and essays that utilized precise words to explain complex phenomena. Logan understood how stars were created and destroyed, he understood patterns of behavior in the universe, and he situated those understandings in language understood by users of scientific research journals and the general public alike. He could write and speak eloquently on the complexities of String Theory in both scientific jargon and in plain English. Words rarely escaped the scientist.

He finds words failing him entirely now.

Logan nods, accepting the bundle that Patton eases gently into his arms. He cannot find the words to explain why the breath leaves his lungs so entirely when he looks down at the infant in his arms. He knows suddenly and intensely that this tiny little person in his arms is the most wonderful, breathtaking thing he’s ever seen in his life. Virgil.

Logan had always been a man of science. But a small part of him—distant and quiet but with complete conviction—can’t help but think he’s holding a miracle. He feels a sudden fear grip his lungs and squeeze at his throat. I don’t know how to be a dad, Logan realizes with a faintly dizzying surge of uncertainty. He tries to swallow the fear down.

“Hello,” Logan says softly to him. His voice comes out a whisper. “Welcome to the world, Starlight.”

II.

Logan hears the wail from his three-year old’s bedroom and shares a glance with his husband. The alarm clock on the dresser reads 11:32 PM in green block numbers. Patton gives Logan a worried look before they both roll out of bed and pad their way down the hall. Virgil had been having nightmares the past few nights. He rarely remembered them with any specificity, but they usually involved some kind of monster that was coming to get him.

“Daddy!” Virgil gasps from his bed when Logan opens the door. “There’s a monster.”

Logan sighs softly, moving to the edge of Virgil’s bed and taking a seat. Virgil has a blanket with the constellations on it on top of his head and wrapped around him so that only his face was visible. “Santa” had given it to Virgil in his stocking last Christmas. Virgil more-or-less carried it around with him everywhere.

His eyes are red and puffy. His knees are pulled up against his chest under the blanket, effectively turning himself into a ball.

“Virgil,” Logan says as his son shuffles closer to him, “I can promise you that there is no monster.”

“Yes there is!” Virgil insists. “I heard it!”

“Monsters aren’t real,” Logan explains patiently. “Sometimes our brains get confused, though.”

“It’s under my bed,” the three-year-old wails. Patton takes a seat by the foot of the bed, giving Virgil a soft and sympathetic look.

Logan purses his lips in thought. “I’ll check under the bed for monsters. Okay?” Virgil sniffles in response as Logan stands up from the bed and lowers himself to the floor, peering under Virgil’s bed. He sees a pair of socks, a couple of toys, and a coloring page. Definitively no monsters.

Logan jumps back up to his feet. “No monsters, Virgil.”

“You scared it away!” Patton adds on brightly. He shares a glance with Logan. It’s too fast for Logan to understand what his husband is trying to convey.

Virgil shakes his head adamantly. “You just can’t see it.”

“It’s invisible,” Logan repeats, managing to keep the frustration out of his voice. He can help best when he can rationalize away irrational concerns. Logan doesn’t know how to get Virgil to believe him. Imagination is a powerful instrument, and Logan doesn’t know to combat it.

He doesn’t know how to help his son feel safe, and something about that bothers Logan more than he’s willing to admit.

Patton suddenly straightens up a little, his eyes brightening. “I may have just the thing, kiddo. Stay here with daddy.” Patton jumps up from the bed and hurries down the hall. Through the doorway that is still open, Logan sees Patton slip into their own bedroom and close the door behind him.

Logan sits beside Virgil again, wrapping an arm around him when his son presses against his side. The astrophysicist leans his head back against the headboard. Virgil seems to relax under his arm a bit, and unfurls the blanket from around his head and looks down at the constellations on it.

“Dad?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“What do you like best?”

Logan leans his cheek on the top of Virgil’s head, sleepiness beginning to creep back to the edges of his consciousness, and looks at the blanket in his son’s lap. “Which constellation?” he asks to clarify Virgil’s meaning. His son nods. Logan hums thoughtfully. “Perhaps Pyxis Nautica. It means ‘mariner’s compass’.” He points it out on Virgil’s blanket.

“Mar… Marin… Mariminer?”

Logan chuckles softly and kisses the top of Virgil’s head. “Mariner. It means ‘sailor’.”

Patton comes back with what Logan recognizes as a bottle of Febreze with the label peeled off. Logan frowns, his brow furrowing in confusion. Patton winks at him.

“I found it!” he announces, brandishing the bottle.

Virgil sits up a bit more against Logan’s side. “What’s that?”

Patton holds the blue spray bottle closer for Virgil’s inspection, whispering conspiratorially. “It’s Monster-Be-Gone spray. You see, your dad worked really hard to make the perfect concoction that is scientifically proven to banish all monsters! All you gotta do is spray it around the room, and then they run away.”

Over the top of Virgil’s head, Logan quirks an eyebrow. Virgil turns huge eyes onto him, and Logan schools his expression into agreement, nodding sagely. He had the feeling that perhaps Patton’s far-fetched fabrication would be enough for Virgil. Perhaps imagination itself was really the only way to solve the problem in the first place.

“Whoa,” Virgil says, awed. “You promise it works?”

“I promise,” Patton insists emphatically. “Here. Let me show you.” Patton begins dousing Virgil’s bedroom in the lavender scented spray. He sprays under the bed, in the closet, around his window, and around his door. Virgil watches him closely and intently.

There’s a beat of silence, then Virgil gasps. “It works! I don’t hear the monster anymore.”

Logan releases a small sigh of relief. Patton is smiling. “No monster can possibly stand up to the Monster-Be-Gone. Any time you think something might be there, kiddo, we’ll give ‘em a good spray and they’re 100% guaranteed to poof away.”

Virgil nods, not protesting as Logan helps him lay down and get situated under his covers again. “T’anks,” Virgil says with a yawn. “You’re the best dads ever.”

Logan feels a small squeeze in his chest as he drops a kiss to Virgil’s forehead. “I love you, Virgil.”

“Love you, kiddo,” Patton adds.

Virgil is already asleep.

 III.

Logan comes rushing into the hospital lobby through the sliding door. The nurse at the front desk looks up from her computer as he approaches, doubtlessly taken in his unusually rumpled appearance. Strands of his hair fall into his eyes but he can’t be bothered to brush them back into their usually pristine position. His shirt is wrinkled. He is still wearing pajama pants.

“I am here for my husband,” Logan says in a steady voice, despite feeling distinctly unsteady in this moment. “I received a call that he had been in an accident.”

“What’s his name, sir?”

“Patton Sanders.”

The nurse types quickly and methodically, her eyes scanning the screen in front of her. Logan glances at the clock on the wall behind her. It’s 9 o’clock in the evening. Logan had received the call at exactly 8:17 PM. He had dropped Virgil off at Valerie’s at 8:30 on the dot. It had taken him twenty-two minutes to drive here, six minutes to park, two minutes to walk to through the front door.

Logan keeps the timetable in his head because numbers are precise and certain and nothing else in his life at this moment feels that way.

“Your name?”

“Logan Sanders.”

The nurse nods. “Your husband is currently in surgery, but a doctor will be out to update friends and family as soon as they have information to give you.”

Surgery. Logan’s grip on the edge of the front desk tightens and he thinks for a moment he might be physically ill. He swallows. Nods stiffly. Turns, walks fifteen steps, and sits down in an uncomfortable chair in the corner of the lobby by the window.

Patton had been on his way home from parent-teacher conferences at the elementary school where he teaches second grade. Half an hour before Logan had received the call from the hospital, Patton had called and asked Logan if he needed to get anything from the grocery on his way home. He had promised to be home soon when he heard Virgil ask Logan where Patton was.

Thirty minutes later, when the phone rang again, Logan definitely hadn’t been expecting to hear the words “you are listed as the emergency contact for a Patton Sanders, sir?” on the other end of the line. He hadn’t known what to say except to confirm. He mostly listened.

He still hadn’t known what to say when Virgil, with a sharper intuition than a ten-year-old should have, had said, “Dad? You look pale…What’s wrong?” Logan had simply told him to grab his backpack and put on shoes.

Logan had blindly grabbed a change of clothes for Virgil from the laundry that was in the middle of being folded, his son’s asthma inhaler, and anxiety medication. He shoved his feet into shoes that were either his or Patton’s—he wasn’t paying attention—and his car keys off the kitchen counter. He called Valerie on the way, and he only hoped that she knew his empty-sounding “thank you” was out of shock rather than a lack of gratitude.

Logan twists his wedding band around his finger and thinks about Patton’s cheerful voice telling Logan that he loved him—like Patton did at the end of all their phone conversations. He’d been the one to get Logan more comfortable with the phrase in the first place, after all. Logan had said it back. He’s grateful for that.

Patton brought a spontaneity to Logan’s life that had been missing for the longest time before they met in college. His friendliness and cheery disposition had, at first, been jarring for Logan. But Patton had seemed to find something worthwhile about the astrophysicist student, and Logan found Patton to be a light of empathy and compassion on a level that Logan did not always understand but did always deeply value.

What started as spontaneity gradually became a needed constant in Logan’s life. Patton balances him. Logan had long since forgotten what life had been like before him, except that it wasn’t nearly as joyful, dynamic, or vibrant. By the time Logan proposed, he knew that he didn’t ever want anyone else by his side. That feeling had somehow—impossibly—only grown stronger since adopting Virgil.

As if on cue, Logan feels his phone vibrating in his pocket and fishes it out. He sees Valerie’s face flash across his Caller ID and feels the uneasiness in his stomach turn to ice.

“This is Logan,” he answers.

To his surprise, it’s Virgil’s voice that responds to him. “Hi, dad.”

Logan swallows hard and scrubs a hand down his face. “Virgil, are you all right?”

“Yeah. I’m just… worried about dad.”

Logan feels his eyes suddenly start to sting and he squeezes them shut tightly against the feeling. “Yeah,” he replies. “Yeah, me too.” Logan does not know what else to say. He feels like a ship without a lighthouse to guide him. Patton is that light. Patton had always been that light…

“Is… dad gonna be okay?”

Logan does not know. He pulls the phone away from his face and takes in a deep, shaking breath. He feels like he is suddenly spiraling, and he doesn’t know how to correct course. Logan doesn’t know how to be a dad without his partner. They are a team. They had always been a team. Logan doesn’t know if he can be the dad that Virgil needs without Patton to help him. He doesn’t know how to do it alone.

Logan pulls the phone back to him and is honest. “I hope so, Virge.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know.” Logan tries to swallow past the lump in his throat. He doesn’t know whether it’s better right now to tell Virgil that he’s afraid too so that he doesn’t feel alone in his fear or if it’s better to pretend to be strong to assuage the feeling of fear. Patton would know. Patton always has an intuition for such things. “It’s… okay to feel scared.”

There’s a long silence. “Can I come be with you at the hospital?”

Logan bows his head, brushing quickly at his eyes under his glasses. He suddenly and desperately wants to say yes. He wants to hold on to Virgil and never let go. Hold on and pray that Patton is holding on too. I don’t want to do this without him.

“Perhaps tomorrow. You should try to get some rest tonight.”

There’s a long silence. Logan expects an argument. Instead, Virgil asks, “Do you promise to call as soon as the doctors show up?”

“You’ll be the first to know when I hear anything. I promise.”

“He calls me brave,” Virgil says suddenly. Logan doesn’t need to ask who he’s referring to. “But I don’t feel brave right now, dad. I feel really, really…. Scared, and I know you said it’s okay to feel that way but what if I’m letting him down when he needs me—”

“Whoa, Starlight,” Logan says quickly, the rare nickname slipping out as he hears the way Virgil’s voice starts to get panicky. “Listen to me, okay? We’re gonna breathe together.” Logan walks him through the 4-7-8 breathing technique he’d discovered when researching anxiety coping methods after Virgil got diagnosed a few months ago.

He waits until Virgil’s breathing on the other end sounds normal before he continues. “Bravery is not fearlessness,” he says calmly. “Fearlessness means you aren’t afraid of anything. Bravery means that you act despite the fear you feel. You can be scared and brave. Those are not mutually exclusive terms.”

Another pause. “Okay.”

“But right now, all we’re asking of you, Virge, is to try to get some rest. Okay?” Logan’s voice is suddenly thick. He coughs slightly in an effort to clear it.

“Okay. I love you, dad.”

“I love you too, Virgil.”

 IV.

Logan watches quietly from the doorway leading out of the kitchen as Roman Prince—his sixteen-year-old son’s best friend—ends the call and stands stock still in the middle of the Sanders’ living room. The window outside shows a dark sky and the silhouette of the neighbor’s houses against the night. The only light in the room comes from a lamp on an end-table by the couch. Above them, Logan can hear the shower running from Virgil’s bathroom and Patton watching TV upstairs.

Roman suddenly hurls his phone into the brown cushions of the couch. In the silence that follows, Logan hears the shaking inhale Roman sucks through a clenched jaw.

“Roman,” he says softly.

“I’m fine, Mr. Sanders,” Roman tells him without turning to face him.

Logan glances down at his shoes, then back up at the teen standing in the middle of his living room. “Your anger is understandable.”

Roman finally turns to face him. The golden lamplight reflects against the sheen in Roman’s eyes even as he shakes his head. “I’m not angry.”

Logan is silent. He sees Roman’s hand curl into fists moments before the teen shoves them deep into the pockets of his jacket. His eyes glance to the phone he’d thrown against the couch as if hoping there may be something that alights on the screen. It stays dark.

“I don’t need him, y’know?” Roman says, and Logan wonders for a moment if he may just be talking to himself. “I’ve never needed him, Mr. Sanders. I can take care of myself. I didn’t need him when I was seven and auditioning for the first time at the community theatre. I didn’t need him at my first opening night, or any other performance. I didn’t need him to teach me how to ride a bike, and I didn’t need him to teach me to cook, and I didn’t need him for the seventeen birthdays he didn’t show up to.”

Roman starts pacing, and Logan watches him quietly from his stationary space in the doorway. “I didn’t need him when I got outted at school two years ago. I didn’t need him to learn to drive, did I, Mr. Sanders?”

Logan meets his gaze, pretending his chest doesn’t tighten with Roman’s increasing desperation.  “No. You didn’t.”

Roman gestures towards the window, stalking away from Logan now to cross the room again. “And I’m not going to need him. No sir. Who says I even want him around? What can he teach me? I got accepted into college without him. I’ll dance at my wedding without him. I’ll build a family and I’ll be twice the father he never was in the first place--” Roman’s voice wavers, and he stops talking. He turned back to Logan, and it’s then that he realizes the tears that had been building in the corner of Roman’s eyes have finally overflowed.

Roman scrubs at his eyes with his hand and sinks himself into the couch beside his forgotten phone. “I just… I feel so stupid.”

Logan’s brow pulls together, and he steps further into the room. “Why?” He immediately thinks it might have been the wrong thing to say, from the way Roman suddenly freezes.

Logan had never done well with helping people through emotional distress. Empathy wasn’t something Logan was particularly adept at. That had always been more of Patton’s domain. But he can see the way Roman is coming apart at the seams on his couch, and Logan finds himself feeling as lost as Roman looks.

Logan doesn’t know what to do, and he doesn’t know what to say.

“Because…” Roman tries, pressing the pads of his fingers into his eyes, “because I just… I wasted so much of my life trying to… to…” But Roman doesn’t really need to say the words that keep evading his grasp. Because Logan already knows.

The data was all there, as far as Logan had been concerned. He’d been noticing it ever since Roman and Virgil first started being friends when they were in fifth grade. He’d seen the surprised look Roman had given Virgil when he and Patton would ask the pair about their day whenever Roman was over at their house. He remembers their eighth-grade year when Roman tried out for the basketball team even though he’d devoted much of his life to pursuing the arts, and a passing mention that his dad had once been a high school basketball star. He made the team, but he saw the increasingly angry look in Roman’s eyes when he saw Logan and Virgil and Patton in the stands, and never the one person he’d joined for in the first place. Logan had seen the barely-hidden look of disappointment in Roman’s eyes after every theatre performance thereafter, when he scanned the crowd during the bows as if he was looking for someone.

It had been plain to Logan for some time. It didn’t mean that Logan knew what to say, but he figures he has to say something. Logan chooses to speak from honesty. Patton had always told him that was best.

“Roman,” Logan says, crossing the distance between them and crouching down to be eye-level with the teen sitting on the sofa. Roman looks up at him. Logan sighs. “I am aware that this may be… insignificant of me to say in this moment. But should you have any doubt… you are a talented, courageous, and dedicated young man. I am… grateful that you and my son became friends. And if nothing else, know that I am proud of you. Not only for your numerous achievements, but also for who you are as a person.”

Logan doesn’t know if it’s enough, or perhaps too much. He is not Roman’s dad in any official capacity, though the affection Logan feels for the teen before him does bare comparison to the love he feels for his own son. He had known Roman long enough to see him try and fail and succeed and everything in-between. He’d seen Roman get figuratively back up again and again and again, and if Roman were his son… Logan can’t help but feel he’d be damn proud of him.

But Roman stares at him with wide eyes, and Logan can’t help but feel he may have mis-stepped somehow. Logan’s lips press into a line before he opens his mouth to apologize—

And then promptly finds himself with an armful of the teen as Roman launches himself straight into Logan in a desperate hug. He can feel Roman shaking against him, can feel his shirt getting damp, and Logan only hopes that he hasn’t upset Roman further. It was the exact opposite of what he’d been trying to do.

“Roman,” he tries, “if I said something that upset you, I sincerely apologize—”

“No, Mr. Sanders,” Roman says hurriedly, pulling back and sniffling. His eyes are red and Logan can see tears still falling. Roman brushes at them, his face coloring in embarrassment. “I…” he swallows thickly, and seems to re-think what he’d been about to say. “Don’t apologize. I’m… thank you, sir.”

Logan gives him a small, kind smile. “You do not need to thank me, Roman. Especially when I spoke only the truth.”

Roman’s voice catches a little in his throat again, and he coughs. He wipes the back of his hands against his eyes. “I… Mr. Sanders, would it…. Be alright if I slept here for the night?”

“Of course. I’ll grab some pillows and a few blankets, as it can get cold in here during the night. If you want to grab a shower—after Virgil is done, of course—there is a spare set of towels in the bathroom down here.” Logan stands up, running through the mental checklist. “I generally arise early in the morning, but I promise to do my best to not wake you. If you’re hungry, there’s plenty of snacks in the pantry and you are welcome to help yourself, though I do encourage you to not eat too much as it’s already late and you should try to get optimal rest.”

Roman makes a sound that sounds almost like a laugh. “Okay. Thank you.”

 V.

Logan is doing the dishes when he glances over at his seventeen-year-old son, sitting at the kitchen table with his fingers buried in his hair. He’s scowling darkly at his homework. Logan’s quick glance over his shoulder two hours ago had been enough for Logan to know it’s chemistry homework—Virgil’s hardest class, if his passing comments to Patton during dinner last night had been anything to go by. Logan rinses off a plate and sets in the dishwasher.

Virgil had been acting unusual for the majority of the time that Logan had been home. He’d been unusually brusque with Patton when asked to set the table for dinner and hadn’t eaten as much as he usually did. He’d seemed…. tense. His shoulders hunched, barely making eye contact, barely speaking—and a tendency to be monosyllabic when he did. All indicators, from Logan’s previous experience and knowledge, that pointed to today being a particularly bad day for Virgil’s anxiety.

“Virgil?”

“Mm?”

Logan grabs a sponge and scrubs out a pot, keeping his attention on the sink. “If assistance with your chemistry would be beneficial to you, I would be more than happy to provide it.”

“I’m fine, dad.”

Logan places the pot in the dishwasher and closes it before turning off the faucet. “You do not need to be… ashamed of requiring help.”

He sees Virgil’s grip on pencil tighten. “I’m fine.”

Logan sighs. “Virgil, you appear to have been stuck on the same problem for the past hour—”

“For crying out loud, dad,” Virgil snaps, shoving back from the table. “It’s not the chem, okay? Sorry for not being fast enough at it for you, but I’m fine! I’m fine. For once in my life I actually understand this shit, I just—” Virgil is speaking faster now. His voice sounds strained. “It’s all the other shit that I can’t—I can’t understand, like why I can’t just… just… fuck.”

Virgil shoves his hands harshly into the pockets of his hoodie as his voice cuts off. He rushes out of the room and Logan hears a door slam shut. From where the bang sounds in the house, Logan quickly understands that it’s not Virgil’s own room. It’s the bathroom.

Logan frowns. There were many things that Logan didn’t understand about what Virgil just said. Strong language aside, something certainly seemed to be troubling him. Logan may not know what, but if it was a cognitive distortion, perhaps Logan could help him think through it.

Logan sighs again, drying his hands off on the towel before following after his son. The door is closed. Logan raps a knuckle against the door. “Virgil?”

He hears a faucet turn off. “Go away. Please.”

“I wish to be of assistance. But I can’t help if you don’t talk to me and tell me what is going on.”

He hears a huff of frustration. “You wanna know what’s going on, dad? I don’t even know! I’m a fuck-up of a kid with fucked up anxiety and maybe depression and I can’t even do my fucking homework without being a burden on everyone and everything. You can’t help me. Nobody can. So just… leave me alone.” He hears Virgil’s voice crack through the door.

Logan leans his head against the closed door. He doesn’t know what to say, really. When Virgil’s cognitive distortions turned inwards towards himself, Logan had always struggled to get him to disentangle them. Logan could get Virgil to look at situations and talk through them, as long as the stressors were external. When they became internalized, experience told Logan that Virgil would absently nod along and not believe a word Logan was telling him.

Logan doesn’t know how to help him in this moment. And it clenches something in Logan’s chest to admit that to himself.

Still, he can try, can’t he?

“Virgil Sanders, you are not a burden on any of us. And you are not alone, though I understand you may feel that way.”

Silence. Logan opens his mouth to continue speaking, but he doesn’t know what else to say that will help his son on the other side of the door. All the same, Logan refuses to abandon Virgil right now. Logan is not a believer in empty platitudes. He never spoke for sentiment alone, preferring to back the words he expressed with actions.

So Logan does the only thing that he thinks will show Virgil he means what he says. He sits down on the floor in the hall across from the door. And he waits.

Almost an hour later, the door opens and Virgil steps out, wiping at his eyes. He stops short at the sight of Logan sitting outside the door in the hall. Logan pushes himself to his feet.

“You… Were you out here the entire time?” Virgil asks, with an expression that Logan doesn’t know how to read.

“Yes,” Logan replies simply, confused at the way Virgil is staring at him. “I told you that you were not alone—” Logan stumbles back a step as Virgil launches himself straight into his dad’s chest.

Logan doesn’t hesitate to return his hug.

 +1

The night air is calm and quiet. A gentle late spring breeze plays with the loose strands of Logan’s hair as he sits on the front porch of the house. Crickets and chatter from inside the house create a background of sound against which distant thunder rumbles. Logan takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. Behind him, someone opens the front door and Logan hears cheerful shouting and music flood from the house and out into the night before the door closes. Footsteps creak against the wooden porch floor.

“Hey, dad.”

Virgil sinks himself into the rocking chair beside his father. Logan glances at him as he does so. In the back of his mind, Logan finds it hard to believe that his son just graduated college. It hadn’t seemed quite that long ago that Logan had been laying on his back with Virgil under the stars teaching him the different constellations.

“Evening,” Logan greets. He quirks an eyebrow. “The festivities a bit much?”

Virgil huffs an amused laugh. “Roman’s had a bit too much and is trying to convince dad to start Disney karaoke.”

Logan smiles. “It would not take much to convince him, I’m afraid.”

“Which is why I got the heck out of there.” Virgil sighs and leans back into the chair, rocking it back and forth slightly. He slips his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, staring out across the yard.

Logan glances at him. “Are you all right?”

Virgil meets his gaze quickly, then nods and looks back out at the night sky. “Yeah, actually. I’m good.” His voice is subdued a bit, but calm. He sounds like he means it. “Glad to be graduated… I think.”

“You aren’t sure?” Logan remembers the sunken eyes and tense shoulders he’d seen his son come home with on the holidays, brushing off concern and questions. College had been hard for Virgil. And stressful. Though he’d come out on the other side of those four-and-a-half years with a respectable GPA and a degree under his belt, Logan would have expected that his son would be ready to wash his hands of higher education. At least for the time being.

Virgil sighs, pausing before he answers. “I mean, I won’t lie, dad. I’m glad to be done with the tests and projects and paper-writing. But the real world is…” He trails off, shrugging.

“Intimidating,” Logan finishes for him.

“Yeah.” Beside him, Virgil rocks the chair back and forth, back and forth. The wood creaks a bit in a rhythm that blends with the distant storm they can see rolling in over the horizon line through the silhouette of the neighbor’s houses that surrounded theirs.

“I dunno,” Virgil says suddenly. “Maybe that’s dumb.”

Logan shakes his head. “On the contrary. I think perceiving the ‘real world’, as you call it, to be an intimidating space is… normal, for where you are in your life. It is more than understandable.”

Virgil scoffs, but there’s no real malice in it. “No offense, dad, but I don’t think you find anything intimidating.”

“Falsehood,” Logan replies simply.

“Yeah? What have you ever found intimidating?”

Fatherhood. “Plenty of things, Virgil. I am not as brave as you may believe.”

He can feel Virgil’s gaze on him now. Logan keeps his own trained out on the stars and the distant storm. “Bravery isn’t the same thing as fearlessness, it’s acting in spite of the fear you feel. You know how taught me that?”

“Hm?”

“You did. The night dad was in that wreck when I was ten.”

Logan smiles faintly, affection warming in his chest.  “I’m surprised you remember that,” he admits.

“I remember a lot of stuff you guys taught me. I mean, I wouldn’t be here without it, y’know?”

Logan looks over at his son. His long bangs still fall across his eyes, he still has dark eyeshadow smudged underneath them, he is still wearing the plaid-patched hoodie that he’d had for God-knows how long. Even in the dark, though, Logan can see something earnest in Virgil’s gaze that is meeting his unwaveringly. As if Virgil is trying to get Logan to understand something, except that Logan isn’t quite sure what it is.

“It’s our job to help you and support you,” Logan says softly after a moment.

“Sure, yeah, I guess.” Virgil sits up a little more, leaning forward towards his father. “But… You and dad are the best parents I could’ve asked for. I don’t know what I would’ve done without either one of you. And any time I start to get like, freaked out about the future and everything…I just…. I remember all you taught me, yeah? And it helps me feel a little better.”

Logan blinks at him. He doesn’t know what to say and there’s an unexpected lump forming in his throat that he swallows past.

Virgil glances down at his shoes and keeps talking. “I know I wasn’t always the easiest kid to manage—” Logan opens his mouth to reply but Virgil presses on—"but you never once gave up on me. You forgave me before I ever apologized, and you were patient when I was frustrated, and at every single twist and turn—and we’ve had a lot of them—you were there, dad. You let me explore the world for my own but any time I got lost, you were that compass that kept pulling me back to North. Like Pyxis.”

Logan is grateful for the dark because his eyes are stinging a little. To his surprise, he can see a slight sheen to Virgil’s eyes too. But there’s also a small smile.

He sniffles and brushes his hoodie sleeve across his eyes. “You and dad need to go on a vacation or something now that your job is done, yeah?” He gives his dad a crooked grin.

Logan runs a hand across his mouth and looks back at his son. “We are always going to be your dads, Virge. Our job isn’t over just because you’ve graduated.” Virgil huffs a laugh. Logan stands up and presses a kiss to the top of his head. Virgil leans into Logan’s form a little.

“I’m so proud of you,” he adds. He waits until Virgil pulls away first before he pulls back to head inside. “Congratulations on graduating. Welcome to the world, Starlight.”

///

Tags: @helloisthisusernametaken, @ren-allen, @quoth-the-sparrow, @princelogical, @random-pianist, @ravenclawicecream, @erlenmeyertrash, @milomeepit, @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes, @rileyfirstname, @pinkeasteregg, @sassy-in-glasses, @vigilantvirgil, @generalfandomfabulousness, @lacrimosathedark, @thepoolofthedead, @monikastec, @heir-of-the-founders, @yourworstnightmare999, @artistictaurean, @kanejandkruge, @cdragontogacotar, @damienswifeolicitydallysgirl, @angst-patton, @savingshae, @noneed4thistbh, @awesomelissawho, @unikornavenger, @bopthesnoz, @spiralofsilencetheory, @finger-gunsss, @crownswriter123, @swlotakulady34, @gaylotusthatexists, @analogical-mess, @dolphidragon, @flix-net, @narniasfinestavengingsociopath, @friedlieb-ferdinand-runge, @bibbidy-bobbity-booyah, @procrastinations-my-middle-name, @theburntesttoast, @monroig

[hydra-collector]

i’ll be a hero or die

AO3

Ship: Dukexiety

Characters: Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Roman Sanders (mentioned)

TW: implied suicidal thoughts/self-harm, blood, gore (not v detailed), fighting, spiders, food mention

Words: 1311

Summary: Remus bites off more than he can chew.

Note: Fantasy AU

Blood was dripping from his lip.

Blood was dripping from a lot of places, actually. His shoulder, his leg, his other leg, his chest. It seeped through Remus’s clothes, hitting the dry dirt when it fell.

The beast was far less damaged than him. Technically it was a job for three people and a magic user, but Remus was going to prove he was better than his brother. Roman had tried and failed to kill this monster, and was now lying in bed complaining about the gash in his side. It wasn’t even that deep.

The hound growled. Well, more like a giant mixture of a hound, a dragon, and maybe some kind of spider. One of the mandibles reached out for Remus’s leg again.

“What, you got a foot kink?” He grumbled as he swung his morningstar at it. It just barely collided, but not before one of the other mandibles swept his feet out from under him.

This was a losing battle.

Remus limped forward as fast as he could. Virgil would be worrying about him at this point. He wasn’t going to get close enough to swing, so he tossed one of his knives directly at the being’s chest. It  was tiny compared to the hound’s massive body, but it was all he had.

It hit. It did hit. But it didn’t leave anything more than a scratch.

The monster raged at him, slobbering jaws open wide. Remus couldn’t make a fool of himself, he couldn’t fail after his brother had laughed at him.

He would kill this thing, even if he died with it.

His morningstar collided with its chest as a mandible once again slashed across his leg. The huge paw pinned down his chest, making the older wound sting and new ones appear from underneath its claws. One of the sharp claws edged closer to his neck, the gash in its chest ignored for the joy that came from Remus’s skin getting closer and closer from relinquishing its gateway to his throat. And then, the dog would feast on his dead body, fly off to find some sheep to terrorize, and Remus’s existence would be nothing more than a meal-

“Remus!”

Glittering purple life thrust the monster away. He could breathe again. He was in the center of a glowing sphere, the familiar feeling of Virgil’s magic.

The hound clawed at the forcefield, having no way to break the seal between it and its prey. Virgil ran up from behind Remus, holding the shield in place while seeing if there were any immediate ways he could help Remus.

“Remus, we’ve gotta get you out of here…”

Virgil’s magic wouldn’t last forever. He heaved Remus into his arms, pulling him onto their horse. He took a deep breath, opening the shield for a moment to use the little bit of attack mgic he knew. The dog recoiled for a moment, the hit blinding one eye long enough for them to get away.

Virgil took his chance to leave.

He gripped Remus as the mare took off towards the trees. Once they got to the dense part of the forest, the trees would be too close for the hound to follow, and their figures would be too small to see from overhead. From there, Virgil could use the bandages from his knapsack to wrap up the life-threatening wounds, and then they would return to the cottage to properly fix them and the other wounds up.

The hound was following them again. They were getting closer, closer, Virgil’s magic was dying out. Its paws began phasing through the purple border. Its claws were getting closer, but so were the trees. We can’t die, we can’t die. There was a particular squeeze through up ahead and if the dog didn’t reach them-

Safe.

The hound made its way along the edge of the thick trees, and all Virgil wanted to do was rest his head on the roots and go to sleep. He chose a spot where the creature could no longer see them, laying Remus down and ushering the horse in front of the tree. His partner's face was pale, and his clothes were bloody. Why had he worn such thin armor? It was easy to take off, at least. Without his shirt, the wounds had nothing to keep the blood from seeping out. Virgil wrapped tight bandages around the deepest one on his chest, keeping his ears open for the hound.

When he was done with all the bandages he had, he let his hand rest on Remus’s cheek, letting out a deep breath.

“...Why?”

Virgil knew he wasn’t going to get an answer right now. Remus was probably unconscious, having lost so much blood. Virgil reattached his bag to their horse’s saddle and placed Remus on her back again, heading in the direction of their cottage.

“...Virgil?”

“I’m taking you home, it’s okay.”

“The… the dog…”

“Don’t worry about that now, okay?”

Remus stayed quiet for the rest of their trip, looking peaceful despite his discomfort. Finally they reached the hill beside their cottage. Virgil was just glad the mare hadn’t been scared off as she trudged along. Virgil tied her up where she could get some food and water, carrying Remus the rest of the way. He placed him in their bedroom and retrieved more bandages, along with a washcloth and a bucket of warm water.

Remus tensed up when Virgil rolled up his pants and began dabbing at the wounds there. He did the same for the ones on his torso, carefully unwrapping the bandages so he could get the dirt out. The one on his shoulder was thankfully not as bad, and the ones on his neck hadn’t managed to get very deep.

“...Virgil… I need to kill it- ow-”

“Remus, there’s no way you could’ve killed that thing on your own. You would’ve died without my magic.”

“Let me… let me go back… I can kill it-”

“Remus, can’t you see what that thing did to you? If I hadn’t wrapped them up as soon as I could, you’d… be in a much worse state.”

Virgil placed his hand on the side of Remus’s face, fingers lightly brushing his hair away. Remus smiled slightly at the touch, putting his own hand over Virgil’s and opening his eyes a little.

“Why did you do that, Re? You must have known it was gonna end badly.”

“I… I wanted to be better than my brother. I thought, maybe I can take it. And… there are only two ways it could go. ‘Become a hero,’ or ‘die brave,’ so… it works out either way.”

“You’d be willing to die just so people think you’re brave?”

Remus looked down. “They’re not gonna care if I die unless I can defeat something like that. Not my kingdom, not my family, I’ve… never been good enough.”

“No, no, Remus. Hey, look at me. Your family loves you. You’re their son, and Roman’s brother. Your people love you. Of course they love you. And if they don’t love you enough, I’ll do it for them. That’s why you came to live with me here, isn’t it? You don’t have to push way past your limits to be loved. You know, or at least I’m pretty sure you do, that there was no way you were going to survive that without help.”

“...I guess I did.”

“You should get some sleep now, okay? You’ll feel a little better when you wake up. I’ll make you those god-awful pastries you like.”

“...Thanks, V. For saving my life. And the pastries.”

Virgil smiled softly, leaning down to place a small kiss on his cheek, and then he repositioned himself in one of their chairs to sit beside his lover until he was ready to make the pastries. And maybe fall asleep too.

[anxiety-n-chill]

More Sanders Sides Shipping Things Cause People Liked The Last One

Roman: *Watching Frozen*

Patton: “Roman...you know you’ll just get upset at-“

Roman: “BUT WHY MAKE THE HANDSOME PRINCE THE BAD GUY?!”

-

Virgil: “I’m so unnecessary and I serve no purpose.”

Logan: “Actually, Anxiety is a much needed instinct in humans. Without it, we’d have no sense of safety or self preservation.”

Virgil: *sniffling* “...fucking nerd.”

-

Patton: “Why can’t we get to the bottom of the ocean yet?”

Logan: “Technology hasn’t advanced that far yet.”

Patton: “But I want to see mermaids.”

Logan: “...Patton, there are much more interesting theories other than mermaids.”

Patton: “But shirtless fish boys.”

-

Virgil: *looking at a tarantula at the zoo*

Patton: “How can you stare at that MONSTER?!”

Virgil: “It’s just a fuzzy danger boy.”

Patton: “NO!”

-

Roman: “OFF WE GO!” *starts charging towards the forest*

Virgil: “It’s a little humid, don’t you think?”

Roman: *turns back towards the house* “A PRINCE CANNOT RISK HIS HAIR!”

-

Roman: *watching Cinderella* “That prince is soooo gay!”

Logan: “Don’t him and Cinderella end up married?”

Roman: “I can dream, thesaurus.”

-

Patton: “Are you tired, Deceit?”

Deceit: “No.”

Patton: “C’mon to bed.”

Deceit: “I’m not tired.”

Patton: “Let’s go.”

Deceit: “PATTON I DONT ALWAYS LIE!”

-

Logan: “I admire you.”

Deceit: “W-Why?”

Logan: “You exist for the sole purpose to protect Thomas. Lying is a form of self preservation in stable humans, which Thomas is.”

Deceit: “Um...no thank you.”

-

Roman: *crying* “That preformance was horrible!”

Deceit: “You did terrible.”

Roman: “YOURE NOT HELP- wait what?”

Deceit: “You did absolutely terrible. Your butt looked so bad in that costume. And your hair was SO horrid.”

Roman: *blushing* “Thank you.”

-

Deceit: “You’re the darkness of my life.”

Virgil: “I try.”

Deceit: “You’re so ugly and I love making you mad with my controlable lying.”

Virgil: “You do piss me off.”

Deceit: “I love showing my emotions and my lying makes it possible to actually share them.”

Virgil: “I don’t get it.”

Deceit: “I hate everything you are.”

Roman: *in the distance* “HE LOVES YOU VIRGIL YOU ABSOLUTE-“

*Patton tackles him to shut him up*

-

Christmas Special!

Roman: “I gift you all a beautiful rose! You are all the thorns in my side sometimes, but in the end, our love is buds out into something beautiful.”

Logan: “I wrote each of you the facts of love that I feel for you. Heh...feel...”

Patton: “I MADE CARDS!”

Virgil: “Uh...I made you each a playlist? Sorry it’s not much...”

Deceit: “I didn’t try to make you each a card...but gladly I achieved in making them. So I didn’t resort to buying you each mugs that have a picture of me totally not hugging you.”

((All of these are written under the AU that they’re in a polyamorous relationship so don’t fight over shippings. Hopefully you all enjoyed this!))

[izzyfandoms]

Chosen - Chapter Five

(This is a Gender-Swapped Sanders Sides high school au)

SUMMARY: Logan Berry, Dee Ceite, Patricia Foster, Virginia Picani and Regina and Rena Prince are all 16-year-old high school students. They live relatively normal lives, with ordinary lessons and ordinary crushes and ordinary families, until one day a monster shows up and attacks them after class, and everything suddenly changes.

SHIPS: Moxiety, Logince, Dukeceit

WARNINGS: Sympathetic Remus, Sympathetic Deceit, swearing, siblings arguing, sexual implications

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @ajdraws0430 @phantomofthesanderssides @creativity-killed-thekitten @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game

CHOSEN TAGLIST: @coasting-on-a-wave-of-apathy @littlestr @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear

Masterpost

FIRST CHAPTER | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“And then Regina was like ‘what? I don’t have a crush on Logan!’ which is super silly ‘cos they’re so obvious and she’s told me that she likes Lo so many times!” Patricia rambled on.  

“Mmm,” Virginia hummed in agreement; she was painting Patricia’s nails with a pretty, dark purple nail polish. “It is pretty silly.”

It was Sunday, and they were currently at Virge’s house, in her room, sat together on her bed.

“Yeah!” Patricia blew a raspberry.  

Virge tapped her girlfriend’s knee. “Stop moving, you’re gonna mess up your nails.”

“Oh, sorry, honey!” Pat stopped moving. “Anyway, Logan totally likes her back, right? I mean, she’s basically told us. And Dee and Rena, too! They’re super-duper in love, I just wanna take their faces and smush them together until they get married and live happily ever after!”

“As entertaining as that would be,” Virge said, finishing Patricia’s left hand and moved to the right one. “We shouldn’t meddle. Let them deal with their own shit.”

Patricia tutted lightly. “Language.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Virge said. She examined her own nails – pastel blue, painted by Pat earlier – double checking that they hadn’t been damaged, though they were already dry. “You know I’m right, though. You’re always telling me not to interfere, no matter how often I want to tell them. They’ll figure it out on their own.”

Pat sighed. “Yeah, I know.” She then giggled. “Doesn’t mean we can’t still complain, though.”

Virginia hummed in agreement again, and the two sat in comfortable silence for almost a minute, as Virge finished painting Pat’s nails. Once she was done, the pigtailed girl looked over her hands appreciatively.

“Yay! Now my nails are your favourite colour and your nails are mine! It’s perfect!” Patricia giggled, beaming.

Her girlfriend gave her a small smile. “You’re adorable.”

Patricia giggled again, softly, a light blush on her cheeks. She leant forward, careful not to smudge either of their nails, pressing a kiss to the tip of her girlfriend’s nose. Virge waited a few moments, watching her girlfriend adoringly, before she pounced, the shorter girl falling back on the bed, the taller almost on top of her.  

Pat spluttered with laughter as Virginia tickled her sides, the purple-haired girl grinning mischievously as she did so.

“Ah, Virge!” Patricia exclaimed between laughter. “You’re gonna- you're gonna make me mess up my nail polish!”

Virginia finally stopped the onslaught of tickling, pushing herself up so she was hovering over her girlfriend, and shaking her head to get her hair out of her eyes.  

Patricia wrapped her arms around her girlfriend’s neck, pulling her down to kiss her properly and closing her eyes.  

Virge kissed her back eagerly, her hands at her girlfriend’s waist. Pat’s lips were soft, as usual, and tasted vaguely sweet, like strawberries – she switched up the flavour regularly, so it was always a bit of a surprise. Virge’s lips, by contrast, were always slightly chapped, as she tended to chew them when she was especially anxious, but, in Patricia’s opinion, that didn’t make kissing her any less enjoyable.

“Ewwwwww!”

The two teenagers pulled apart immediately, their heads turning sharply to face the door, which was now open. Virginia’s eleven-year-old sister, Anne, was standing in the doorway, making a grossed-out face. She was wearing one of her sister’s old black-and-grey hoodies, and she had eyeshadow smudged under both eyes – she'd never admit it, but she was absolutely copying her older sister’s style.

“Get out my room!” Virge screeched, turning red. She sat up and grabbed one of her pillows, chucking it at her sister.

Anne dodged the purple projectile and ran off, laughing. “Mom, Virge and Pat are kissing again!”

“Leave them alone, Dear,” Emily half-scolded from across the hallway, though she was still smiling pleasantly. This was honestly the harshest she ever got with her daughters. She walked up to Virginia’s bedroom door and gave the two blushing teens a slightly apologetic smile. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” She teased, shutting the door.

“Mom!” Virge whined, before turning back to her girlfriend. “I’m sorry my sister’s such a brat.”

Patricia poked her shoulder teasingly. “Don’t be mean.”

Virge rolled her eyes, but pressed a reassuring kiss to her girlfriend’s forehead. “I’m not being mean; this is just what it’s like having a sister. Ask Regina or Rena, I’m sure they’d agree.”

Pat pouted a little at that. “I wish I had a sister. You’ve got Anne, and you’ll probably have Dee, too, soon.”

“You can bond with Logan about it, I guess,” Virginia shrugged.

The pigtailed girl gasped, her eyes brightening. “Logan can be my sister, then!” She pulled out her phone, careful not to mes sup her nail . “I’m gonna go tell her, right now.”  

CATS

Patricia

Logan!!!!!!

Logan!!!!!!!!!!

Logan!!!!

Logan!!!!!!

Logan!!!!!!!!!!

Lo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dee

I should’ve muted this chat.

Logan

Patricia, you now have my attention.

Patricia

Logan!

Your my sister now!!!!!!

Logan

*You’re.

Also, what?

We do not share any parental figures; how can we be sisters?

Regina

God ofc you use perfect grammar in texts ilysm

Logan

What do ‘ofc’ and ‘ilysm’ mean?

Rena

it means she wants to fusdjjkfhfjshfkldjfdkshfjdhfdjfhsdkhfksdlfhsdfh

Virginia

oops guess renas been murdered

Logan

What?

Dee

Ignore her

Regina probably just tackled her

Regina

ur right!!!!!!!!!!!

gina did take my phone!!!!!!!

but I took hers and now im locked in the bathroom!!!!!!!!

i can say whateva i like!!!!!!!

REGINA IS TYPING

Dee

Oh dear

REGINA HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM ‘CATS’

RENA HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM ‘CATS’

Virginia

using my admin powers for good

“Virge!” Patricia exclaimed, poking her girlfriend’s shoulder disapprovingly.

“What?” Virginia shrugged. “Do you want to hear everything Rena has to say about what Regina and Logan wanna do with each other?”

Pat wrinkled her nose uncomfortably. “Well, no... but it’s mean to remove them!”

“Fine,” Virge sighed. “But if Rena starts talking about sex, I’m going to remove her again.”

PATRICIA HAS ADDED REGINA TO ‘CATS’

PATRICIA HAS ADDED RENA TO ‘CATS’

Virginia

rena if you talk about anything inappropriate from either your phone or reginas im blocking both of you

Regina

I finally got my phone back!

And I agree

Pls don’t do that  

Rena

:(

what counts as inappropriate tho

Virginia

anything that would upset pat

Rena

boo!  

boring

“I’m going to fight her.”

“Honey, please don’t.”

Logan

Patricia, what was it you were trying to tell me at the start? Your statement about us being sisters was factually (and grammatically) incorrect.

Patricia

Were the only people on the chat without sisters!!!!! That means we should be sisters now so were not alone!!!!!

Logan

*We’re and *we’re.

And that does not make sense.

Besides, Dee doesn’t have any siblings, either.

Patricia

She and Virge are gonna be sisters soon right!!!!!!!

And youre my sister now sorry I dont make the rules!!!!!

Logan

*You’re and *don’t.

You were the one who made this chat. You do, literally, make the rules.

Virginia

(just go with it)

There was almost a minute of no texting, though everyone appeared to still be online, and Patricia shifted closed to her girlfriend in the interim, practically seating herself in the taller girl’s lap. Finally, Logan started typing again.

Logan

Fine.

Patricia

YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m going to spam you with heart emojis now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Logan

Please, don’t.

Patricia

Okay I won’t!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dee

I hate to interrupt

But my mom just got a message from Remy

Apparently, she and her parents are inviting us (and Mr Thomas) and any of our parents who know about the monster shit (her words not mine) to this fancy party at her place next Saturday . We need to dress kinda fancy, like dresses or fancy shirts and trousers, as it’s like tradition or something to hold these parties for each generation of chosen ones

Mom says she can tell any of your parents who don’t know the truth that you’re all at my house

But she also recommends you tell your parents whats actually going on

Virginia

ew party

Rena

ew telling dad the truth about the monsters

Logan

I didn’t think you were one to shy away from the truth, Rena. Wouldn’t it be easier to be honest with your father?

Rena

normally i wouldnt care

but if dad finds out about all this he could get all protective and shit and try to stop us from fighting monsters and all that other ‘dangerous’ stuff

Regina

Ugh, I can’t believe I acc agree with u

Patricia

Im still tryna figure out how to tell my moms!!!!!!!  

I might ask Miss Emily to help me but idk

Virginia

she would she loves u

Regina

Wait lol pat arent you at virges house rn why r u texting  

Patricia

Because I love all of you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

RENA IS TYPING

Regina

Before you speak

Is it appropriate?

Rena

no

Virginia

then dont

Rena

):

Virginia

dee can u get ur mom to text my mom the details  

Logan

Mine, too, please.

Dee

Sure

Regina

Me and rena will have to ask dad later hes busy rehearsing lines rn

Rena

acc hes probs just txting the dude he went out with yesterday lmao

he wont tell us anything bout it and got kinda awkward when we asked bout the guy he went out with

so im assuming they fucked

Regina

I hate you so much

Stop saying that

Fight me

One day Im acc going to fight you and it is going to be brutal

Rena

i will win

Patricia

Hey now!!!!!!!

No fighting!!!!!!!!!!!!

“This won’t end well,” Virge said dryly, rolling her eyes.

Patricia hummed quietly in agreement, her brow creased. “I wish they wouldn’t argue so much, it makes me sad.”

Her girlfriend opened her mouth to respond, but she was cut off by the bedroom door opening again. They both turned and watched as Emily stepped inside, giving them a smile.

“Patricia, your moms are here.”

“Oh, okay!” Patricia pocketed her phone and wiggled out of her girlfriend’s lap, jumping up and stretching. She took a step in the direction of the door, before pausing. She glanced up at her girlfriend’s mom with a slightly sheepish look. “Um, do you think at some point you’d be able to help explain the chosen one stuff to my moms? I’d like to tell them, but I’m not sure they’d believe me straight away.”

Emily’s expression softened; she put her hand on Pat’s shoulder supportively. “Of course, dear. In fact, I’m having dinner with Harriet on Wednesday. Would you like me to tell her then?”

“Yes, please! That would be super helpful, thank you!” Patricia beamed. She then turned on her heel, back to her girlfriend, and leant forward to kiss her quickly. “Bye, Honey! I love you so much!”

“Love you, too, Pat,” Virge responded softly, a little embarrassed that her mom was there to witness this, but still smiling slightly.

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

Dreaming While I Wake

Sanders Sides Foster Care AU - Roman-centric Angst & Hurt/Comfort & Abuse Recovery

Roman tries to be upbeat and hopeful despite all the shit that’s happened to him. And a lot of shit has. Luckily, his new foster home is with two literal rays of sunshine (and a sarcastic asshole).

Words: 4,059 Warnings: Death Mention, Doctor Mention, Suicidal Ideation, Foster Care Issues, Anxiety Attack, Bad Self-Image, Bad Self-Talk, Self-Hatred, Stealing/Theft, Desire to be Punished, Food Issues Characters: Roman, Patton, Thomas, Virgil Universe: Dreaming While I Wake Genre: Angst/Family

Chapter 16 

chapter 1 for new readers - ffn mirror

   “Are you doing okay, kiddo?” Patton asked, sitting across the couch and looking at him with those damned kind eyes. Roman didn’t respond. He didn’t feel like he could even form the words without breaking apart. He didn’t even want to think about how not all right he was at the moment, much less articulate it. Patton seemed to get the picture after a lengthy pause, because he changed the subject. “So what were you looking to buy that you wanted a job for?” Patton asked politely. “If you need to sign it, just hold up the letters long enough that I can read it,” Patton added after a prolonged moment of silence. Roman held up his hand to sign the letters, but kept a hold of the glass of water between his legs with the other hand and didn’t look away from focusing on the melting ice cubes in the water.

   “D…S…? Is that right?” Patton said, sounding very confused. After a moment it seemed to click with him. “Like the Nintendo? Kiddo, I think Tomathy had one in his office he doesn’t use,” Patton said plainly, sounding like he shifted on the couch. “I don’t think he’d care if you wanted to borrow it. What game did you want to play on it?” Roman looked up and scrunched up his face, trying to remember that one what had dragons and farming one of his old friends really liked. It took a minute, but he eventually raised his hand to sign the letters. “R-u-n-e-f-a-c-t-o-r-y? What’s that? F-a-r-m? Oh, one of those farming games? Did you want to play something relaxing?” Roman nodded and signed yes. Patton smiled lightly, but his eyes were still laced with concern. As long as he didn’t vocally acknowledge it right now. Roman signed why he wanted to play it. “B-e-d? Not in bed, I hope. B-4? Oh, before. I don’t think Thomas has that one,” Roman shrugged. He was intending to save up for a DS in the first place, buying the game was assumed.

   “Thomas doesn’t have what?” Thomas asked, coming back down the stairs. He didn’t look too distressed, so hopefully that meant Virgil was okay. Part of him wanted to ask, but that meant that meant he had to acknowledge it as his fault and that he also wasn’t okay and Roman wasn’t capable of doing that at the moment.

   “Run-e… factory, I think? Roman wanted to play it to calm down before bed,” Patton explained and nodded to Roman.

   “Runny Factory?” Thomas asked, making a baffled expression and looked to Roman. Roman spelled rune again for him. “Oh! Rune Factory! No, I don’t have that. That’s a fantasy game, right? I’ve heard good things about it, the storyline and music are supposed to be superb,” Thomas said and Roman nodded silently. He just liked the fantasy element and thought breaking up the farming with monster murder would be more interesting than just farming. Breaking up the monster murder with something laid back also seemed cool. He took a deep breath and sipped his water again. His throat was still so tight it hurt a little going down, but he was feeling like maybe he could continue to be okay as long as nobody made him think about himself. “Hey, uh, Roman, did you know?” Thomas asked a little awkwardly and Roman looked up at him in confusion. “About… Virgil?” Thomas finished. Roman put the glass of water between his legs to free up his hand.

   ‘What about him?’ Roman signed.

   “Are you having trouble talking? I’m not any further than learning the alphabet yet, I’m sorry,” Thomas said, sitting next to Thomas. Roman motioned for him to come closer and Thomas complied and leaned in.

   “Know what?” Roman whispered. He could mange whispering right now. He was just trying his damnedest not to break down again. He was not stuck in the shitty boat Virgil was. He picked back up his water cup and held it with both hands.

   “That maybe he also has PTSD from… other homes?” Thomas asked softly, looking disconcerted.

   “What do you mean also?” Roman whispered.

   “The ER doctor thinks you have it. Do you remember being in the ER?” Thomas asked, sounding concerned.

   “Not much,” Roman said under his breath. This was going into territory Roman wasn’t so comfortable in.

   “There’s stuff about PTSD I guess we didn’t realize until now, I guess. Like that it wasn’t just about certain triggers,” Thomas clarified. “Did he say anything to you?” Thomas asked with concern.

   “He might have mentioned it,” Roman whispered. “He noticed I was… worried about you guys hitting me and he told me I was safe. Then explained that it’s why he noticed. He implied he didn’t like talking about it. I kind of agree with him,” He admitted. He didn’t want to talk about it right now, for sure, but talking about it any time wasn’t ideal.

   “I wish one of you would have told us, but I can’t fault you for not wanting to think about it,” Thomas looked frustrated for a moment, but his face softened again when he saw Roman back up slightly. “Have you heard of age regression?” Thomas asked. That seemed out of the blue. It baffled Roman enough that he no longer was shying away from Thomas.

   “That’s that thing perverts do, isn’t it?” Roman asked quietly and raised an eyebrow at Thomas, a little confused on why he would bring it up.

   “What?” Thomas looked just as bewildered as Roman felt. “Oh, I hate having to google these things,” He muttered. “Not that. This is medical,” Thomas said more clearly and sighed, shaking his head. Oh, well, that’s good, maybe? “Sometimes certain triggers can cause age regression in PTSD patients. Do you know how I know how I know you had a gun pulled on you?” Thomas asked, looking like he was examining Roman now. It unnerved him a bit.

   “No,” Roman muttered, watching Thomas nervously in return and gripping the cold glass firmly.

   “Because you told me. You were a very mouthy 13-year-old. You also thought I was Satan for a bit,” Thomas said, sounding kind of amused. Roman stared at him for a moment while he processed what Thomas said. When he realized he that he might have cussed out Thomas, his eyes widened and he shut them tight, trying to to freak out. Thomas didn’t deserve his defensive bullshit. He had to put up an aggressive front or people wouldn’t take him seriously. It didn’t pay off for him in the end, though, and he regretted ever doing it.

   “Sorry,” Roman choked out and tensed up.

   “No, no, it was kind of cute,” Thomas chuckled weakly and looked to Roman reassuringly. Roman took a deep breath and tried to settle down. Cute wasn’t exactly what Roman was going for, but at least he didn’t hurt Thomas’s feelings or anything. “Well, Other than the fact that you were disappointed you didn’t die. You don’t still feel like that, do you?” Thomas asked softly, sounding sad. Roman’s shoulders flinched, and he swallowed hard.

   “Doesn’t everybody?” Roman whispered, joking weakly. The small broken laugh that accompanied it wasn’t the most convincing thing he’d ever done.

   “No, Roman, that’s not normal,” Thomas said, putting his arm on the couch over Roman’s shoulder’s without touching him. Roman could feel the heat from his arm but appreciated not being touched. He was even closer to breaking down now, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out. “You got a referral for a psychiatrist at the ER and I’ll be making you an appointment, okay?”

   “No, Thomas, please! I’ll be good, I’ll try not to-” Roman started babbling loudly, shooting a desperate look up to him.

   “Hey, kiddo, it’s okay!” Patton held his hands up and cut Roman off. Roman held his lips closed tight in a thin line.

   “Why are you scared of the psychiatrist?” Thomas looked pointedly at Roman.

   “My… They’ll know- The foster people. That I’m a bad kid. And then they won’t be able to place me, and then I’ll be stuck in one of those holding centers, they’re worse than the group homes, they’re really awful and that’s… I just can’t,” Roman rambled choked on a sob. He sniffled and dropped back against his cup, a tear breaking loose despite how hard he fought against it.

   “Why are you worried about going to a holding center?” Patton asked, sounding concerned.

   “’Cuz having mental health record is bad and harder to place since I’d be special needs,” Roman mumbled between his legs, starting to cry.

   “Do you still think we’re sending you back on Friday, Roman?” Thomas sounded sad.

   “Maybe,” Roman breathed.

   “I missed that,” Thomas said. Roman looked up and glanced at Thomas.

   “You should! I don’t belong here! I belong somewhere crappy where I’m too busy trying to survive to have to think about things. I never… I never struggled like this. At least not until I got used to not having Remus around,” Roman sighed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He and Remus had a shitty time when the memories were fresh, but losing Remus was worse.

   “Actually, sometimes people who have been in a hard situation for a long time usually struggle in more positive environments because they’re not sure how to process love and support. Did getting separated from your brother really hurt?” Patton piped up, sounding very compassionate when he suggested an explanation. Roman barely understood what he meant, but he could follow the question easily.

   “It was like they took half of me away when they tore us apart,” Roman grumbled.

   “Maybe because it was the last bit of stability and support you had, you closed off and just tried to deal with the situation, and you’ve been doing that ever since,” Patton offered, continuing his explanation. Roman couldn’t completely follow, though.

   “What?” Roman asked. His head hurt and he didn’t comprehend a lick of that. Some more tears broke free, and he sniffled again.

   “I think you belong here,” Patton said resolutely. Roman could follow that much easier. Wait, what the fuck? No, he couldn’t!

   “What?” Roman asked more incredulously, wiping his eyes.

   “You love Disney and The Princess Bride and books and you’re kind and considerate and quick and Lita loves you. And Virgil’s opened up more since you got here, so I think he likes you, too,” Patton said, holding up a finger. “You fit in just fine! All the other stuff isn’t you. It’s what you’ve been through,” He smiled brightly, looking confident. That didn’t make sense, though. He was a fuck up for a castle keep full of reasons.

   “I wasn’t able to sleep or keep track of time or sit still or do well in school before everything else. There’s plenty of stuff that I’m bad at, that’s all me,” Roman grumbled in objection.

   “And there're ways you can learn to cope with all of that when you’re somewhere safe,” Patton provided.

   “I can’t stay here,” Roman rested his chin on his legs and stared forward, feeling despondent. He couldn’t stop the stray tears, but he was too empty to freak out anymore. Thomas looked bewildered and sad out of the corner of his eyes, but he said nothing.

   “And why is that?” Patton asked evenly, though his eyes looked sad.

   “I’ll…” Roman dropped his head into his legs again. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

   “You’ll what?” Patton urged him to continue.

   “It’s selfish, and it’s unrealistic,” Roman grumbled, shifting to sip his water. A timer in the kitchen dinged and Thomas got up. Roman flinched from the motion and sighed. He was so on edge it physically hurt. He was buzzing with restlessness but too tired and sad to even start figuring out how he could fix it.

   “How about I decide that?” Patton asked softly.

   “I have to get to go to a home that’s willing to take two kids when Remus also needs placement. I’ll never see him again until we turn 18 if I don’t. If he doesn’t hate me by then, anyway,” Roman sighed again and looked up to the ceiling.

   “I promise we’ll take you to see him when we can, Roman,” Patton said, and he sounded like he meant it, unlike most other times he’s heard it. Though he could never really trust adults meant it when they offered, though. He’d been burned too many times before. Patton probably only meant it at the moment, but it would be too much when the time came, just like always.

   “But I won’t get to be his brother again,” Roman said despondently. “Whisper nonsense words and have him completely understand me. Play fight like the fate of the world depends on the outcome. Write stories with him that turn into whole universes. All the stuff we used to have. The brother stuff you can only have when you’re a kid and you live together,” Patton looked somber but didn’t say anything. There really wasn’t anything to say.

   “I hope you’re hungry, Roman,” Thomas called from the kitchen.

   “You know I’m not,” Roman groaned loudly.

   “Too bad!” Thomas called back. Roman sighed and sipped his water again.

   “I would miss you guys… I’m not trying to say I don’t… appreciate you being nice and stuff. As much as it drives me up the wall,” Roman chuckled weakly and Patton pouted at that. “I just… I’ve been going this long on the hope I’d get him back. I got through everything I did because I never let go of the hope of being reunited, you know? I just can’t let go of that. And I don’t want to make it harder to be placed and then lessen my chances even further of getting to be with him again. I’ll be good, I promise, okay? I just can’t have that go on my records,” Roman begged him.

   “How about I talk to your caseworker about it when we see him Friday? See what we can do without it going on your state records?” Patton offered gently, looking strangely conciliatory for someone who did nothing wrong.

   “I’m a ward of the state who is just staying at your house. They own my ass,” Roman bit, though there was very little energy or aggression behind it, mostly just tired frustration with his situation.

   “Roman, I know you’re upset, but you don’t have to be mean,” Patton chided, frowning slightly.

   “Sorry,” Roman sighed heavily. “Right after I said I’d be good and everything,” Roman muttered to himself sourly. Roman wished he knew how to stop being a bastard already.

   “It doesn’t hurt to ask,” Patton said. “And I’m going to either way as your guardian, but I’d much rather you be on board with it,” Patton said gesturing with his hand.

   “Thanks for your honesty, I guess,” Roman rolled his eyes. “I’m on board as long as it doesn’t hurt my chances,” It was just asking, not acting in it. Roman leaned back again and put his cup down on the side table. He was so fucking itchy still. Thomas couldn’t see him, though, it was just Patton in the room. He probably wouldn’t freak out at a little itch. Roman scratched at the edges of the bandages and exhaled in relief as he itched at the adhesive, which stung slightly.

   “No scratching!” Thomas called from the kitchen and Roman froze in complete and utter bafflement.

   “What the actual fuck, Thomas?” Roman groaned loudly enough to project into the kitchen.

   “Dad powers,” Thomas said seriously. “Apologize for cursing,”

   “Sorry for saying fuck,” Roman huffed and dropped his arms in defeat to the couch with a light thud.

   “Roman,” Patton said firmly, furrowing his eyebrows at him.

   “Sorry for saying it again,” Roman rolled his eyes and saw Virgil come back down the stairs. He looked pretty okay other than kind of tired, which was relieving.

   ‘Saying fuck in front of Pat twice?’ Virgil signed. ‘Props,’ He fingerspelled.

   ‘Nice to see your dumb face again,’ Roman signed back.

   ‘Can’t say the same to you,’ Virgil signed and smirked at him before sitting back down at his controller and starting to play again. He glanced over to Patton, who mostly just seemed to be considering something. Roman was just glad the conversation was over. He turned his eyes back to the TV screen to watch the game again. He slowly loosened back up as he watched Virgil play. The long scarf physics were really eye-catching, and he just let himself drift to that.

   “Dinner’s ready!” Thomas called after an interminable period of silently watching the cloaked guy running through the level. Patton smiled at them and got up and headed to the kitchen. Virgil looked Roman up and down after he paused the game.

   ‘You don’t look capable of crime,’ Virgil signed and looked at him disbelievingly. Wow, Virgil didn’t beat around the bush.

   ‘Thanks?’ Roman signed, raising an eyebrow. Maybe that was a good thing?

   ‘Can you do anything other than sell drugs?’ Virgil signed.

   ‘You cut right to the point,’ Roman made a face at him. He wasn’t sure what Virgil was getting at, but it was weird to straight-up ask.

   ‘Can you?’ Virgil signed again.

   ‘I can pick pockets and pick locks,’ Roman fingerspelled. He could do other things, too, but he wasn’t as ashamed of those things as the others.

   ‘No shit?’ Virgil signed and some excitement in his eyes leaked into the disbelieving expression.

   ‘Seriously,’ Roman signed back and nodded.

   ‘You’re lying,’ Virgil frowned. Fucker. Roman wasn’t lying.

   ‘I’ll prove it,’ Roman signed, getting up from the couch. He had to talk carefully and tenderly to the kitchen on his fucked up feet, but found a stride.

   Thomas was still at the stove getting things on to serving dishes and Patton was putting water cups at the table. This was too freaking easy. Roman picked Thomas’s wallet as he passed and nonchalantly slid it in his pocket. He sat down and smiled at Patton, who smiled back and sat down. Virgil joined them at the table and stared at Roman, clearly waiting for him to do something. Roman smirked and pulled Thomas’s wallet out, throwing it at Virgil. He caught it and looked between the wallet and Roman. Patton looked up from serving himself food and saw them.

   “Virgil, why do you have your wallet at the table?” Patton asked, peering closer. “Actually, isn’t that Thomas’s? Did you find it somewhere?” Patton asked, taking it from Virgil’s hands. “Virgil found your wallet, Thomas,” Patton said as Thomas walked over with the last of the food and placed it down on the table, looking confused.

   “What? I don’t remember taking it out. Thank you, Virgil,” Thomas said, taking the wallet back from Patton and sliding it back in his back pocket before sitting down. Roman leaned on the table and smirked, raising his eyebrow at Virgil in anticipation.

   ‘You absolute bastard,’ Virgil signed, looking extremely impressed. Roman took a bow.

   ‘Careful, it’s not all I can do,’ Roman sat back in his chair, looking concernedly at all the food now.

   ‘Don’t threaten me with a good time,’ Virgil signed back before reaching over to serve himself a giant pile of tater tots. He served a single tater tot to Roman with a smirk before reaching out to grab a piece of chicken.

   “I’m not beyond serving you food and sitting here until you eat it,” Thomas eyed Roman. Roman sighed and grabbed a small piece of chicken and a single scoop of vegetables. “That’s half as much as Virgil is eating, Roman,” Thomas said critically.

   “I’m 100% positive he’s powered by a black hole,” Roman objected sourly, motioning to Virgil.

   ‘Thanks,’ Virgil smirked and started eating.

   “Teenagers are biologically hungry, and you are not exempt,” Thomas corrected him.

   “It’s fine,” Roman huffed.

   “I think we’ve successfully established you don’t have the best impression of what fine is, Roman,” Thomas said critically and leaned back in his chair.

   “Thomas, sassing Roman isn’t nice,” Patton chided him. “Just take a tiny bit more, okay, kiddo?” Patton looked at him pleadingly. Virgil served Roman another single tater tot.

   ‘There. More,’ Virgil signed and Roman laughed. This fucking guy.

   “Thank you,” Roman smiled and signed as he spoke.

   “Virgil, don’t encourage him,” Thomas frowned and chided Virgil.

   ‘Sure. You suck, Roman,’ Virgil signed with a lopsided grin.

   “Oh, I’m wounded,” Roman put his palm to his forehead and leaned back dramatically. It did actually start to smell good, at least. Roman began eating slowly, trying to get it over with, but the more he ate the easier it finally felt and the more his stomach woke up. It stopped hurting when he ate, and he ate more comfortably. “Thanks for dinner, Mr. Sanders,” He said absentmindedly as he reached out for another serving of vegetables.

   “Um, you’re welcome, Roman,” Thomas sounded a little confused, but the food was good and Roman didn’t bother looking up from eating. He grabbed a second piece of chicken, as well, after finishing the first one. Virgil knocked on the table and Roman looked up at him.

   ‘Are you going to tell them you stole his wallet?’ Virgil asked. Roman put down his fork and swallowed.

   ‘Why?’ Roman signed back, confused. Tell them he stole from Thomas? That was dumb.

   ‘Because they won’t be mad and I want to see their faces,’ Virgil signed. Maybe they wouldn’t and everything would be chill. But if they did get mad, maybe he’d finally get punished and fell right in the freaking world again. It seemed like a win-win scenario with a bonus of amusing Virgil.

   ‘Fair,’ Roman shrugged. He finally felt awake and feeling impulsive. Virgil laughs, well, as much as he does, and Roman gets sent to his room without dessert or something assuredly way too tame for what he did.

   “You didn’t lose your wallet, Thomas. I picked your pocket,” Roman said flippantly, eating one of his two tater tots. They both stared at him dubiously and exchanged a look before looking back at Roman. Virgil leaned forward to watch, looking amused already.

   “…Why?” Patton asked after a quiet moment of confusion. Virgil did that silent laughing thing behind his hand.

   “He didn’t believe me,” Roman pointed to Virgil. “I didn’t take anything. I don’t think it’s right to steal money. I just wanted to prove I could,” Roman explained with a smug smile and a little shrug. Roman had enough money stolen from him that he genuinely couldn’t bear to do it to anyone else anymore.

   “Why can you…” Patton started to ask but trailed off. He probably answered his own question as Roman raised his eyebrow and leaned on his arm.

   “I learned how to do lots of things,” Roman passed his hand over the tater tot on his plate and it disappeared. Roman passed it quickly behind his back and popped it in his mouth while they were all looking at the plate. “Magic!” He announced. Stoners fucking loved sleight of hand. He once got a fifty dollar tip from a guy who was completely blasted.

   Lita weaved under his feet and he shivered from the dog fur through his sock. His feet were still feeling raw from his run this morning. Roman pulled them up and went back to eating his vegetables. Thomas looked shocked and Patton beamed in delight. Virgil looked unimpressed as usual and returned to going to town on the pile of tater tots.

   “Do you know any other magic tricks, Roman?” Patton asked with a sparkle in his eye.

   “I know sleight of hand and card tricks, not any magic-magic tricks,” Roman shrugged. “Nothing fancy,”

   “Well, will you show me one after dinner?” Patton smiled, returning to cutting up his chicken.

   “Do you know the four kings in the tower?” Roman asked, interested in getting to show off.

   “No,” Patton shook his head, looking invested already.

   “Then that it shall be,” Roman declared regally, twisting his fork in the air. He rolled his eyes at his own idiocy and returned to eating.

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[art-dump-for-avery]

The Monsters Under the Bed

Genre: horror? Hurt/comfort? Idk but mostly creepy stuff

Characters: basically all Sanders Sides characters, but Thomas is a kid and is the only one who is human; also Janus and Vigil were/are siblings, but its only implied here

Warnings: detailed descriptions of creepy stuff (lack of eyes, many eyes, skeletal figures, sharp teeth, etc..), implied blood, handprints on skin, living doll, nightmares, not-quite strangling (Janus has his hand around Thomas' neck, but there's no intent to harm) — let me know if I need to add anyhing

Summary: Thomas is a young boy who starts to see some "people" in the middle of the night, but maybe they aren't as scary as they look.

(I wrote this over 3 months ago, but I didn't want to get accused of plagerism when I was publishing this in the school newspaper in parts (credit to the original Sanders Sides series was given, don't worry). Anyway, viewer discretion is advised — enjoy!)

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Thomas was a quiet child. He was always so happy and well behaved. Misfortune was something he had never experienced; he had a loving mother and father, and his world was peaceful and perfect.

He was seven years old when they first appeared. 

———

It was a dark night. Rain tapped on the windows softly; the wind was but a whisper, and Thomas lay curled up on his bed, struggling to sleep. He normally had no trouble drifting off to dreamland, often exhausted by his adventures of the day, but something about that night was keeping him wide awake.

It couldn’t have been the rain. He found the rhythmic tapping soothing, and there was no lightning or thunder to be afraid of. The wind did sound a bit unsettling, but it had never truly bothered him before. It could be the temperature, he’d thought. The room was colder than usual, despite it being nearly the middle of summer.

Thomas tugged his blanket to wrap it tighter around himself, but it hardly budged, seemingly caught on something. He gave another small tug, and still nothing. So he rolled over to see what was holding it.

There was something — no, someone on the bed next to him. At first, Thomas thought maybe it was one of his parents, but as a car drove by outside, the headlights illuminated the room, and to his horror, it wasn’t.

An eyeless face, streaked with dark red lines coming from the sockets and mouth, brown curly hair atop its head, and a pair of round glasses resting pointlessly on the pointed nose. The thing’s limbs, stiff and spindly, were the definition of nothing but skin and bone, the curves of its skeleton visible beneath the pale blue and cold flesh. It wore something akin to a tattered nightgown, a large hole torn diagonally in the front with splatters of red along the edges.

It lay on the bed, over the blanket, silent and still. Even without its eyes, Thomas knew it was staring at him, watching him. Fear gripped the poor boy in such a tight hold that he couldn’t even think to cry out, and he simply lay there, frozen in terror and staring right back into the thing’s empty sockets.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before it ever so slowly lifted one of its arms and began to reach towards him. His brain screamed at him to move back, get up, run away — to do something — but he could only watch with wide eyes as its hand came closer and closer and–

It settled on his cheek. The touch was shockingly gentle, the thing’s thumb moving to softly wipe the tears Thomas hadn’t realized were falling down his face. He blinked once at the realization, and when his eyes reopened, it was gone. There was no dent in the bedding, no marks of any kind, no sign of it having been there at all. The only evidence he had was the feeling of the smudged tears on his cheek.

That night, Thomas didn’t fall asleep until sunrise. And when he woke up and told his parents the next morning, they brushed it off as nothing but a bad dream.

———

That night was only the first of many in which Thomas would be faced with things lurking in the dark. The first one, whom he’d taken to calling “The Eyeless Man,” appeared frequently, doing nothing but staring at him in the dark. With each visit, Thomas grew less and less fearful, but he still asked for and received a nightlight, just in case.

The next was “The Many-Eyed Man.” Thomas was on the edge of falling asleep when he felt a presence in the room with him. He hesitantly peeked his eyes open and was met by the sight of multiple others looking at him and around the room.

A figure stood beside his bed, staring at the drawings he had taped to the wall. Eyes littered its body, each one in constant motion. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that the man’s eyes — the ones in the normal location — were rolled far back, only showing the whites and veins. He wore a dark navy, full-body suit with holes for each eye, rectangular glasses over the ones that were rolled back, and his hair was slicked back to a point. He wasn’t bone-thin and lanky like the Eyeless Man, and instead looked more like any other adult, if you ignore the pale indigo skin color and, of course, the eyes.

Thomas lay still, watching the Many-Eyed Man nervously. He wasn’t nearly as terrified as he was the night he met Eyeless, but he still remained cautious in case this one turned out to be dangerous. Distantly, he wondered if Many-Eyes and Eyeless knew each other.

After a long while, the man turned sharply, startling the poor boy. The eyes within his line of sight looked at him for a moment, before going back to looking around the room as the man made his way to the door and out of the room.

Thomas sat in silence for several minutes, wondering if Many-Eyes would return, or if Eyeless or someone else would show up, but nothing happened. So Thomas closed his eyes once more, and eventually managed to fall into an uneasy sleep.

———

There was something under his bed. He’d been getting ready for school one morning when he saw what looked to be long, thin, sharpened fingers just barely sticking out from under his bed. The moment he looked at them, the nails dug into the floor, and withdrew back into the darkness.

Scared, Thomas ran to get his father, who happily looked under the bed to ease his son’s fears. Seeing nothing, he gave the all clear before gently hurrying the boy to finish getting ready so that he wouldn’t be late. Thomas avoided the edges of his bed the rest of the day, leaping to it when he went to bed that night, and jumping off of it as far as he could when he woke the next morning.

Of course, when there was no sign of something under his bed for days, he slowly started to relax. Maybe he had been imagining it, he’d thought, and soon he’d nearly forgotten the whole thing.

Until one night, when he was getting ready to go to sleep and sat down on the edge of his bed. Before he could move to lay down, he felt long, stick-thin fingers wrap around both of his ankles, and like that very first night, he froze in fear.

There were no harsh tugs, nor was there a bone-crushing grip. The hands simply held him in a firm grasp. Heart racing in his chest, Thomas slowly tried to kick his legs up and out of the thing’s grasp. The hands released easily, and he watched as they slowly disappeared under the edge of the bed. He listened closely to the sound of movement beneath him before his attention was drawn to the board at the foot of the bed, creaking under the pressure of the fingers now holding it tightly.

He watched silently, struggling to stay calm as a head slowly rose up into view. Long, dark brown hair with a single gray streak framed its face. Its eyes were sunken and stark white; it had no nose, only two holes in its place; and a chill went down Thomas’ spine at the sight of its large, sharp-toothed grin.

The thing continued to rise still, and Thomas couldn’t help but shrink back as it grew to the height of the ceiling while still being hunched over. It wore a torn tank top and shorts, and it was skin and bone, just like the Eyeless Man, except worse. The skin seemed torn open down to the center in multiple places, showing muscle and bones, some of which were broken, and in place of any kind of neck, there was only the top of the spine holding up the head.

The two stared at each other for a short amount of time before the thing dropped, like a puppet cut from its strings, and shoved itself back under the bed, moving as though it were being dragged. Against his better judgment, Thomas peeked under the bed and looked cautiously at its still grinning face, lying sideways under the bed. How something that large managed to fit there, he didn’t know, but he decided to save that question for the next day. After a bit of tossing and turning (and a shock from Eyeless appearing), Thomas eventually drifted off.

———

He stopped trying to tell his parents. They wouldn’t believe him no matter what he said, so there was no point in talking to them about it. The Tall Man — the one who had grabbed his ankles — turned out to be peaceful, for the most part. He made his presence known in ways that startled or scared Thomas, but that was all he did, and so, just as he had with Eyeless and Many-Eyes, Thomas feared him less and less.

With no one to talk to about the things he was seeing in his room, he began to draw them instead. Being only seven, he only drew stick figures, but he used different colors for each of them. Light blue for Eyeless, dark blue for Many-Eyes, green for Tall, and pink for himself. He had just finished working on it when his mother called him for dinner.

When he came back to get ready for bed, there was new writing on the paper. Next to the green stick figure, in scratchy letters, was the word “REMUS,” above the light blue was “patton,” and “Logan” was spelled out above the dark blue. They were names, Thomas realized. Those were their names. It occurred to him then that they probably didn’t know his name, so he grabbed a crayon, wrote his own name next to the pink stick figure, and taped the drawing up with the others that Logan had been looking at when he first appeared. And with that, he got ready for bed.

———

Thomas woke from a nightmare a few nights later, crying quietly under his blanket. He couldn’t remember what it was about, but he remembered feeling absolutely terrified by it, more than he had ever been by any nightmare before. He wanted to call out for his parents, but the fear still coursing through him left him only able to mumble soft pleas.

That’s when he heard it, faint and distant, the sound of music and creaking floorboards. The unexpectedness of it helped Thomas calm down so that he could hear more clearly. It sounded like a music box, like the ones that you wind up over and over, and though it was an eerie sound to hear in the middle of the night, it was very beautiful.

Curiosity won out over his fear and he looked out from under the blanket. There wasn’t anything in his room, so he got up and walked over to his door, opening it slowly and peeking out. It would have been too dark to see, if not for the living room lamp that had been left on. It cast just enough light for Thomas to be able to see the silhouette at the end of the hall.

From what he could see, the figure was wearing a ruffled skirt, and its hair was tied back into a ponytail. It danced in time to the music, which seemed to be coming from the figure itself. The movements were fluid and graceful and left Thomas watching in wonder.

It slowed to a stop, and everything was quiet. Then it opened its eyes. Two circles of glowing green light pierced through the dark hallway, and they seemed to stare right through Thomas’ soul. The music started up again, off key and cutting in and out. There were loud thumps -- footsteps -- and Thomas realized it was coming closer. He took several steps back into his room just in time for it to stop outside his door.

The night-light made it a bit easier to see the thing’s features. It wore a long sleeved shirt, a sash made of red ribbon, ballet shoes, and, as he had noted before, a skirt. There were dark spots and stains all over its clothing and “skin,” which reflected the light as if it were glass. It likely was, if the cracks on its eyes were anything to go by. The most curious thing about it, Thomas thought, was its joints. Its knees, ankles, wrists, the joints in the fingers -- all were ball joints, like the ones you would see on a doll.

He was drawn from his observations by its swift movements as it walked into the room and over to the wall of drawings. He noticed where it was going and quickly retrieved a crayon and drew a new stick figure with a triangle for a skirt on the drawing with the others’ names written on it. He then hesitantly held out the crayon to the doll-like figure, who stared for a moment before slowly reaching out and taking it. Then, in shaky cursive, it wrote out “Roman.”

Roman looked at Thomas once he was done, handing the crayon back. With a stiff bow and the blink of an eye, he was gone, a last note of music resonating around the room. The boy stood in silence for a while, thinking about the whole interaction, before he finally put the crayon away and went back to bed, letting the memory of the music lull him back to sleep.

———

The next several weeks were fairly calm, all things considered. Thomas’ new friends would show up frequently, and he wasn’t sure when exactly he had started thinking of them as his friends, but he didn’t dwell on it too much.

Most nights one or two of them would appear, sometimes startling him, and every once in a while, he would catch a glimpse of one of them during the day whenever he was alone. They seemed to know each other, or at least be aware of each others’ presence, and Thomas didn’t know whether to feel comforted or unnerved by that fact.

And then one night there was a new one. Thomas had been lying in bed one night after a movie night with his parents, both of whom had gone to bed themselves after tucking him in. He once again found himself having a hard time going to sleep, and after a while, he sat up, content to wait until one of his friends showed up.

He’d been waiting for several minutes, looking around his room, when it appeared. It stood in a corner, one he had taken his eyes off of for just a second when there was nothing there, but now there it was.

Even with the night light, Thomas still couldn’t make out anything other than its eyes, which glowed just enough to pierce through the darkness that shrouded the figure. Other than that, it was simply a mass of nothing but shadow.

This was where Thomas’ memories of that night seemed to cut off, however. One second, he was staring into the eyes in the darkness; the next, there was nothing but black, soon followed by a horrible nightmare that, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t wake up from until the sun had just barely risen over the horizon. Like his previous nightmare, he didn’t remember much, and what he did remember didn’t make any sense to him. Whatever it was, though, left him in a state of terror — that feeling you get when you see the looks of horror on people’s faces as they stare at something behind you; you don’t know what it is, but you do know that it’s terrifying, and so you are terrified, by both the knowledge and the unknown.

It took nearly half an hour for Thomas to calm down, his fear keeping him still and silent throughout. When he finally did calm down, though, he looked around his room again and noticed that more was added to the stick-figure drawing of his new friends. It was simply an oval, as tall as Logan’s stick figure, messily drawn and filled in with purple crayon. Off to the side, in almost illegible writing, was “virgil.”

He supposed he had a new friend then.

Many nights in which Virgil appeared went like that. Thomas would look at him for several seconds before suddenly falling into a nightmare. This made it difficult for him to get a good look at Virgil’s features, especially since he didn’t show up on occasion during the day like the others did.

None of it made sense to Thomas until one night two weeks later. Patton was lying next to him at the time Virgil appeared, and as Thomas began to shift his gaze to those glowing eyes, a hand covered his own.

He didn’t move, more confused than anything by the action. He felt the bed shift, thin fingers gently grabbing his arm and rolling him over, and then the hand over his face was removed, allowing him to see once more. Patton was now on the other side of the bed, though he still stared at Thomas as he usually did.

After a moment of quiet, the young boy tried to roll back over, to look at Virgil again, but was stopped by the hand still holding his arm. He tried a few more times before finally giving up and staring back at Patton, all the while wondering why he wasn’t being allowed to look at the shadowy figure.

Several minutes later, his arm is finally released, and Thomas rolls over only to find that Virgil is now gone. None of it makes sense to him until the next morning, where he realizes that, for the first time since Virgil started appearing, he slept well. He’d had no nightmares of any sort and he could remember clearly when he’d fallen asleep.

So he stopped looking at his new friend. He would see those eyes in his peripheral vision and look away until they were gone. And just like that, the nights of blank memories and nightmares that followed were gone.

At first he worried that the shadowed figure would be mad, but a hand carding through his hair on a night where only Virgil was present eased his worries. It would seem that, yes, he did have a new friend.

———

In hindsight, it made sense that one of the scariest of his friends would appear last. Thomas had gotten used to the presence of not-so-human beings appearing in his home from time to time, and even though he had no one to talk to about his friends, he was content with being the only one to know about them. And while sometimes they startled him or even scared him, he liked to believe that they saw him as their friend too.

It would make sense, then, that he was a little excited when he saw a figure outside his window one night. It wore a black hat with a golden yellow ribbon wrapped around it and an attached black veil. The veil covered its face, but was just short enough to show a strange marking around its neck, one that Thomas couldn’t recognize in the dim light of the night light.

What shocked him most were the extra hands that were pressed to the window. Six arms were extended out from its body, three on each side, and they had similar markings to the one on its neck.

It was only there for about a minute before it stepped away from the window and disappeared into the darkness, but it was plenty long enough to make the boy curious. He was too tired to draw a stick figure for it at that moment, but he made sure to do so first thing the next morning in gold crayon.

It went like that for a whole week. It would show up for one minute, looking in from the window, and disappear again. Thomas had begun to think that this would be its routine, just as the others had their own patterns of behavior, but late one night, at the same time as always, the six-armed figure proved him wrong.

He had been sleeping peacefully that night, having been lulled to sleep by Roman’s music and Patton’s now-comforting presence. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep, but he didn’t think about that much when he woke to the feeling of a hand wrapped around his neck.

His eyes widened at the sight of the six-armed figure standing next to his bed, one hand swiftly writing on the drawing of stick figures and another very firmly holding Thomas by the throat. He struggled for only a second before stopping when he felt the grip tighten, and decided it may be best to stay still.

From where he lay on the bed, he could now partially see the thing’s face, and, for better or worse, he could also now see the marks on its arms, neck, and now its face more clearly.

They were hand prints, ones that would look like bruises if not for the way they seemed to form indents in its skin. The one on its face framed one of its eyes, one with a golden iris and slit pupil that glanced his way a moment later.

In turn, Thomas looked up at the drawing, “Janus” now written there in cursive that was just a bit neater than Roman’s. He looked back at Janus as calmly as he could. The hand had loosened back to its original state, but was still firm, and as Thomas looked at him, he wondered if Janus was even aware of what he was doing.

After exactly one minute, as usual, he vanished, leaving a phantom pressure on Thomas’ neck from where he had been holding him. The boy took deep breaths to calm down, not moving from his spot on the bed even when he felt Patton appear on the bed beside him. Only once he began to feel tired again did he shift to get more comfortable, and, not wanting to think about the event, went to sleep.

As the weeks passed, and as Janus appeared more often to hold him by the neck, it became clear that, no, he had no idea he was doing so. He never attempted to harm him, his grip only ever tightened whenever Thomas struggled, and he always left after one minute.

The lack of violence led Thomas to relax around him, as it had with the others, and when Janus appeared at his bedside one night with his veil lifted, the boy took it as a sign that maybe — just maybe — he wanted to be friends too.

———

Well over two months had passed, and Thomas was only a little disappointed when no new figures showed up, but he was happy with the friends he’d made. Nights alone were rare, at least one of his friends appearing every night, and he wasn’t afraid of them anymore. Sure, they still startled him and acted creepy sometimes, but there were other moments where they acted almost human.

They interacted more often, and in a way it made Thomas think that not only did they know of each other, they were familiar with each other too. Roman and Remus spoke to each other a lot, if “spoke” meant making static-like and weird noises at each other, and Patton and Logan seemed to find great interest in the others whenever they were around. Once, Thomas even saw Janus hugging Virgil, but he was half asleep at the time, so it could have been a dream.

His parents asked about the stick figure drawings that began to flood his room as he drew his friends more often. He always told them the truth, but they also always brushed it off as imaginary friends, so it didn’t really matter. He didn’t really trust his classmates or teachers, so they didn’t know about his friends either. He was happy nonetheless, though.

He lay in bed on the night after his eighth birthday now, Patton lying beside him, Remus holding one of his ankles gently, and Roman dancing around in the hallway to some nursery rhyme melody. Despite all of that, which some might find unnerving, Thomas felt safe. Surrounded by beings he considered to be his friends, he closed his eyes, and he fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.

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(This is probably the longest fic I've ever written, but I'm actually super proud of it. Glad to finally have written something for one of my many AUs)