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sosa-sketch · 5 years

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Fright or Flight: Chapter 4

Parings: Prinxiety // Logicality // Platonic LAMP

Story Summary: Virgil and Patton investigate the New Prince Castle, when a brutal accident kills Patton. Patton wakes as a ghost and meets friendly ghoul Roman, who has been haunting the castle for 20 years. Virgil is determined to bring Patton back to life and brings Logan, the ghost expert, to help him out. Time is quickly running out, and the four must work together to undo death. If only it was as simple as Logan made it sound.

Unknown to them, a secret entity in the castle does not plan on letting them succeed.

First Chapter Previous Chapter

To Patton’s surprise, he loved the woods! The chirping sounds of birds and the scurrying of fluffy critters excited him as he matched his pace to the bubbly gurgling of the creek hidden beyond the trees. It was calming and serene. Pacifying enough to get his mind off their final destination.

Virgil, on the other hand, disagreed with Patton’s five star forest Yelp review.

“Are we there yet?” Virgil groaned, dragging his feet behind Patton.

“If we’re quick, another half hour kiddo!” Patton chirped.

Virgil sighed dramatically, yanking his hands from his purple-patched hoodie. “We’ve been walking forever, I’ve learn the true definition of drowning in sweat, and I think every car that passes us is a ephebophilic murderer.”

“E-phe-bo-philic.” Patton perplexedly sounded out.

“A pervert who would be all too happy to find two lonesome teenagers walking alone a forested road.” Virgil explained while plunging his hands back into their homey pocket abyss. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

Patton frowned emphatically and slowed his pace until him and Virgil were hiking side-by-side. “You’ve just had too much time to get into that silly ole’ head of yours. We’re just fine!” Patton reassured, grinning as an idea crossed his head.

“I know! Why don’t we play a game?”

Virgil raised a suspicious eyebrow at his direction. “What kind of game?”

“I spy! Why don’t you go first?” Patton invited.

Virgil crossed his arms in resistance. Patton pulled his favorite card and shot his puppy-eyes in return. No one was too old for a bit of distracting fun! And definitely never to broody-no matter how much black his son determined on coloring himself with.

Virgil blew a raspberry into the air and shrugged, which Patton greedily took as an enthusiastic win. “I spy with my little eyes…something black.”

“Right on brand, but at least you’re trying.” Patton quippedd. “Is it the road?”

“Nope.”

“Your hoodie?” Patton tried again.

“Nuh-uh.”

Patton craned his neck to the sky. “The birds?”

“Wrong again, pops.”

“Well what is it?” Patton eagerly gave in.

Virgil stared at him with a deadpanned expression. “It’s what we’ll see when a murderer stabs us in the back and we lose consciousness because we were so enraptured with a preschool game.

Patton ogled at Virgil, dumbfounded and disturbed. “I…appreciate your imagination. But you see, Virge, the game ‘I Spy’ is usually about others trying to figure out what you see. You know, physically? So maybe give it another go.”

Virgil lazily eyed Patton before scanning his surroundings in relent. “I spy something red.”

“It better not be blood this time.” Patton warned. “Is it my sock?”

Patton pointed at his long mismatched socks, one red, one yellow. Virgil shook his head.

Patton scanned his surroundings, thinking hard. Two pinpricks of light hidden in bushes caught his attention. “Is it those eyes in the trees?”

Virgil naturally shook his head before halting and snapping his head to the bundle of trees. “Eyes?”

“Yeah!” Pat confirmed. “I think it was a deer.”

Virgil squinted his eyes, following the direction Patton was enhtuastically pointing at. Swiftly, he took quiet steps to the cluster of evergreen.

“Virgil, don’t go in there. You might spook it away!” Patton warned.

“Deer eyes glow yellow. Not red.” Virgil apprised faintly. He stepped off the broken road and shuffled through the trees, scanning the area. The entrance to the wood was spread out and bright-if there were any animals there, he would have spotted them.

Despite the beaming sun and thick hoodie, Patton’s hand iced his skin when he briefly touched Virgil’s shoulder. “Maybe I was seeing things. Let’s just get to the castle.”

However, when Virgil met Patton’s sky blue eyes, shrunken and unsure, he took another step deeper into the wooded area. Patton had seen something, and it wasn’t an animal.

“Who’s there?” Virgil called into the trees, omitting the tremble from his words. He kept one hand on his backpack as security, despite there being nothing inside that would offer protection. With the other, he motioned Patton to wait at the edge of the road, facing the sparsely spread trees. “Stay where you are. I’m going to look around. If you can’t see me, call me and I’ll come back.”

Patton looked as if he wanted to argue, but then settled down and nodded. treading back until he returned on the aggregate. “Be careful, Kiddo.”

Feeling steadier knowing Patton was simultaneously safe and watching his back, Virgil hastened his pace deeper through the trees. were clustered enough for Virgil to have to watch his stepping, but spread out enough for Patton to spot glimpses of him through windows of wood. However, the deeper he stepped, the closer and thicker the trees became. Sunlight slowly became subdued from the overhead spanning of branches and leaves.

Surveying the area around him, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The dirt mushed around his Converse, adding filth to his worn-down shoes. The dark leaves idly dangled from their branches, softly swaying in the breeze like wind chimes. Chirping fell from the sky in undertones as red birds flew overhead. The red birds Patton was meant to spot.

Watchfully turning around in a circle, Virgil widened his eyes in investigation. Nothing caught his attention. Patton wasn’t the type to pull pranks, but he was the type of get carried away in his imagination. About to call it quits, Virgil began to take a step back.

Without warning, two spots of red blinked in the brushes, a bright contrast from the cool tones of the forest. It was far off from where Virgil stood and it only shone for a second, but Virgil had it.

He sped off to a chase where the red light flashed, hopping over fallen logs with twisted branches that prodded his legs as he fell. It was getting darker now-the trees crowded and loftier-blocking the pastel sky. Faintly, he heard Patton calling after him in the distance.

Virgil rationally understood he could be rushing after the trick of the light or a prankster. Be that as it may, Virgil’s heart was pumping with exhilaration. What were the odds that in the forest near a possibly haunted castle, both Patton and Virgil spotted gleaming red orbs?

“Is anywhere here?” Virgil called into the woods, slowing to a stop. He hastily fished out his phone, pressing record. A small line of light pierced the wood as Virgil scanned his camera in front of him.

A sharp crack erupted from his left, abrupt and quick. Virgil swiveled to the left and held out his phone. A stick laid in the dirt, snapped in half. The black hairs on his pale arm stood up straight, each an individual sensor for any sudden sound or movement.

“If that was you, can you give me another sign?” Virgil stood tensely, awaiting another indicator. Upon utter stillness, he suggested, “Make a leaf from the tree in front of me fall if you broke the stick.”

Virgil craned his neck upwards, scanning the leaves of the broad overhead tree. Leisurely, almost tauntingly, a single leaf unlatched itself from its twig and fluttered down gracefully. Virgil followed the movement with his phone’s light. The narrow leaf landed on Virgil’s shoulder.

Virgil attempted to calm himself down. Not from fear, but from excitement. This was the closest he had gotten to a response affirming a self-aware entity. And the entity was communicating with him personally, manipulating responses to make their answer clear. This was a big deal! This is what Virgil expected ghost hunting to be like!

“My name is Virgil Storme,” he introduced. “What’s your name?”

A soft whisper rasped, coarse and hoary. As if the voice had not been used in a long time, and it was testing out its tongue once more. Pausing deeply after each syllable, the voice croaked, “Roman. Prince.”

Roman Prince? The Roman Prince? One of the tragic victims from the New Prince Castle’s brutal murder?

Okay. Relax. As long as he didn’t screw things up, this could happen.

“Hello, Roman. Are you from-” Ring! Ring!

Virgil jumped as his phone violently buzzed. Patton’s contact flashed on the phone, loudly beeping. Irritated would be an understatement as Virgil answered loudly, “What, Patton?”

“What do you mean, ‘what, Patton?’” Patton yelled, equally loud and much more aggravated. “I’ve called you at least five times! I can’t see you at all. You’ve had me worried sick!”

Virgil furrowed his brow in confusion, checking his phone log. His last call had been from Remy this morning. “I have no missed calls from you. The signal must have been jacked up.”

“I don’t care!” Patton cried. “You just went running off into the middle of the forest where I can’t see you. You ignore me when I’m calling after you. You were supposed to stay in my sight.”

Virgil guiltily ran his sweaty palm through his hair. “I’m sorry for worrying you, Pat. But, I think I really got something here.”

Promising to head back, Virgil hung up and sighed at his phone. The video had stopped. At least Roman spoke before Patton called-right in the nick of time as well.

“Roman?” Virgil called. “Are you still here?” Steady silence answered Virgil. The cold weight that was brought upon the entity’s presence had lifted. The manifestation had disappeared.

Still, Virgil had a name. And a connection. Roman Prince from the New Prince Castle.

This investigation might be the one to finally unlock his answers of the paranormal. Finally, Virgil would win.

The sun was slowly setting, casting warm hues onto the early evening sky. Remy gently hobbled up and down in his seat as they headed down the bumpy road. Soft, classical music drifted from the car’s radio.

“Can you believe it? They walked! Walked! Alone in the woods; like a couple of white guys!”

Logan shot Remy a questioning glance. “They are a couple of white guys.”

“Yeah, but I’ve practically raised Virgil-bringing him coffee and letting him inside my house at four in the morning. He should have some Hispanic blood running through his veins. Where are his street smarts?”

Logan sighed, keeping his eyes on the road. Remy and Logan’s father were relatively close. Remy knew Logan since he was a kid. When Logan’s father received a call from Remy asking for a ride, he had sent Logan to pick him up and drop him off at his shop.

Remy has been huffing about today’s former events since Logan had arrived to pick him up. In the back of Logan’s vehicle, Remy’s sad excuse of a car was being towed. “If you are so wound up about them walking to the castle, why did you grace them with your consent to proceed?”

Remy crossed his arms, pouting. “Gurl, don’t you think I tried to stop them? But, at the end of the day, I’m just Virgil’s fun, sexy roommate. I’m not the boss of him. And when Virgil sets his mind to something, he does it.” Remy pulled his hazel locks. “It’s so irritating!”

When a silence settled over the pair, Remy could feel Logan’s calculating eyes fall upon him, studying his body movement, his words. Remy shifted uncomfortably, but kept his back facing Logan as he stared out the window. Remy felt like a textbook under his gaze.

Finally, Logan seemed to reach his conclusion. Clicking his tongue, he determined, “You’re upset.”

Remy harshly glared at Logan, feathers riled up and fuming. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“However,” Logan enunciated, “I do not believe it’s because Virgil and Patton took a walk in order to arrive to their destination.”

“Oh wise one, please enlighten me on how you reached that conclusion.” Remy sarcastically pleaded.

“Because you and I know that Virgil can take care of himself-you have seen it countless of times. Additionally, the circumstances in which the are embarking on their travels is more than suitable. They left well during the earlier hours of daylight, they have all the supplies they would need for survival, and if there was any danger, they would easily be able to call you.” Logan explained, ticking down each factor on the list with a soft hit on the driving wheel.

“You wouldn’t get it.” Remy mumbled. “You don’t feel things like other people.”

“Just because I am more logical than most does not mean I don’t feel.” Logan defended, voice slightly rising. “I just believe you are upset and need to see things from a different perspective-hence, my explanation.”

“Yeah, okay.” Remy conceded, shooting Logan an apologetic smile. “You’re right. Thanks for trying, nerd.”

Logan seemed perplexed as whether Remy was genuinely expressing his gratitude or if he was as the butt of another insult. It was a bit of both.

“Not to, as the saying goes, ‘stick my nose where it doesn’t belong,’ but you had mentioned having history with the New Prince Castle. Does that, perhaps, have something to do with you exaggerated concern?”

“Sayings exist for a reason, Lo. I didn’t have a good experience with that castle when I was younger. I just want the kid and his friend to stay safe.”

Logan took the hint and let the conversation die. Remy suddenly felt awfully tired, and he wasn’t up to make small talk, and he definitely wasn’t up for nerd talk, so instead he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window.

“Thanks for the ride, hun.” Remy mumbled.

“You are very welcome, Remy. Do not hesitate to give me a call if you’re in need.”

Remy pictured the New Prince Castle in his head from his childhood. Colorful and full of life. Everyone gave it their all to make the castle come to life. He wondered what the castle looked like now, aged and abandoned. Covered in dust and mold with only remnants of what it once been.

No matter how it looked now, it could not be uglier than what is used to be.

Taglist: @suspicious-sweaters @septicstarlight

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #thomas sanders fanfic #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #remy sanders #ghost story #adventure #LAMP #platonic lamp #prinxiety #logicality #deceit sanders #CALM #sanders side fic #fluff #angst

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sosa-sketch · 5 years

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Fright or Flight: Chapter 3

Parings: Prinxiety // Logicality // Platonic LAMP

Unknown to them, a secret entity in the castle does not plan on letting them succeed.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Anyone normal who did what Virgil did, especially at his age, would twist and turn at night with hellish dreams of ghouls and demons. Staring at the crooked flyer on the school hallway wall, with zombified cliques of high schoolers shoving their way around him, Virgil fantasized about being one of the common. There on the wall, the flyer advertised a poetry competition offered to any student interested.

Why was it that he could explore hallways blanketed in dark blacker than night and reach out to the dead without second thought; but when it came to contemplating a flyer, his heart hammered and his palms drowned in sweat?

Call to the unknown realm of the afterlife alone? Sure. Virgil could handle it. The mere thought of submitting his writing to a bunch of old ladies who would read thousands of entries and wouldn’t even remember his name? Someone get the vomit bag ready.

A gentle nudge of his shoulder made Virgil leap four feet in the air, landing tense and uncoordinated. “Geez, Patton. Way to sneak up on a guy.”

Patton had the decency to look sheepish. “What’s got you all tense, Kiddo?”

“Nothing.” Virgil dismissed. Patton followed Virgil’s eyes, which were still lingering on the poetry flyer.

“A poetry competition, huh?” Patton inquired, pointing out the obvious. “That sounds right up your alley!”

Virgil would be lying if he denied he had a certain aptitude for poetry. He had started with angsty, nightmarish poems-that to this day he refused to read-and had fleshed out his skill and passion from there.

It wasn’t the writing of the words that spoke to him; it was more their rhythm. Whatever he felt, he could create. A steady beat in iambic pentameter or a free style collage of metaphors and raw feeling, clashing with no sense or rhyme. Dyslexic or not, Virgil’s mind had an aptitude in passionate worded rhythm.

The thing with the power of his poetry being unlocked through the tones and wavelengths of his voice was that Virgil had to speak in order to show it. What Virgil gained through the potential strength in his words, he lacked in execution.

“Pat, I’m okay at poetry. I’m definitely not good enough for a serious competition. It’d be setting myself up for failure.” Virgil dismissed. Still, his eyes remained locked on the flyer.

Virgil was awful at public speaking. He could just imagine the way he would shrink into himself, quieting his words until the microphone couldn’t pick it up. Silencing his message.

“You never know if you never try.” Patton encouraged.

It wasn’t certain that he would even make it to the opportunity of performance. The judges may gloss over his poem and toss it in the fiery trash pile. He wouldn’t even be given a shot.

Virgil rolled his eyes shook his head irately. “I’m good.”

Patton shrugged. “If you say so.” He proceeded to rip the flyer off of the wall, holding it gently in his hands. Maintaining innocent eye contact with Virgil, he smoothed out the rumpled edges of the flyer and lifted Virgil’s hand, twisting his palm upwards.

He dropped the flyer into Virgil’s hand, having the nerve to bat his eyes innocently with a casual stance. Meeting Virgil’s incredulous gaze, he winked. “In case you change your mind.”

Virgil shook his head exasperatedly, lips twitching upwards. “I’ll be at your house to pick you up at four. Remy’s driving us. Be ready.”

Patton mock saluted, then broke out into a freckled grin and waved goodbye.

Virgil’s house was a relatively quick walk from school. Nonetheless, the Florida heat made Virgil’s hoodie glue to his back with sweat and smudged his cheap eyeliner. By the time he got home, he had clown paint running down his flushed cheeks, which he couldn’t even wipe away because of his damp, long hair affixed around his eyes. His armpit stains could serve as a swimming pool for bugs and small birds.

If there was any way to drive the unbearable temperature away, a shadowy silhouette sitting in his house was one way to do it. Virgil felt his blood run cold as ice shot up his veins, freezing his movements. His heart jutted wildly in his chest as Virgil slowly cracked open the door and wildly scanned the room.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Virgil spied a large cup that surely did not belong to him sitting idly next to the stranger. Sitting on the bridge of the stranger’s nose, as he sat alone in the dark room, was the outline of sunglasses.

Virgil rammed his hand into the light switch by the door with narrowly controlled rage. His blood fused from frozen to boiling as he slammed the door shut behind him.

“Remy! What the hell are you doing in my house?”

Remy give Virgil a half-witted acknowledgement, granting him a grunt. “Watching Netflix?”

Tucked in Remy’s lap was a device slightly emitting a soft glow, only visible when Remy lowered his hands from the sides of the phone. “In the dark? In my house?” Virgil dubiously accused.

Remy shrugged. “How else would you watch a horror movie?”

Virgil’s fury was fueled by Remy’s nonchalance. “You absolute psycho! You don’t go into people’s houses and sit in the dark without letting them know!” Virgil fumed. “And you know who watches horror movies alone in the dark? Serial killers! Is that what you are, Remy? A serial killer? Because you’re sure as hell as psycho as one!”

Remy gazed at Virgil as he ranted, mildly bored. When Virgil finished his rant, huffing and puffing for air, Remy took an exaggerated sip from his Starbucks cup, raising an eyebrow. “You done?”

“I’ll tell you what I’m done with. I’m done with you.” Virgil shot back.

“Thank goodness! Might I hope done enough with me to not need a two hour ride to your knockoff castle?”

“You’ve sure got me thinking about it.”

“A word of advice: You shouldn’t think about things.” Remy teased. “Dangerous things happen when you do.”

“I’ll show you what danger is if you don’t carry all my things to the car and start driving in the next two minutes.” But, Virgil had begun to untense, and his words were losing spite.

“Alright, sis. You win, you win.” Remy relented, putting his hands up in mock defense. “And oh, by the way. Your wifi sucks ass.”

The car ride had been quiet, at least to Virgil, whose headphones were locked on his head to block out the animated chatting of Remy and Patton. Virgil focused on the journal in front of him filled with half-completed thoughts and scratched out phrases, gnawing at his pen nervously.

A persistent poking on Virgil’s shoulder snapped him out of his jumbled mindset. Patton was giving him an eager look, as if he had been requesting Virgil’s attention for a while. Virgil raised one muff off his ear, humming in acknowledgement.

“What you working on?” Patton asked, pointing at the rundown journal balanced on Virgil’s knee. Virgil almost instinctively shut the journal, but remembered who he was talking to. “Just some writing.”

Patton didn’t probe further, and Virgil was grateful for that. But, Patton knew Virgil better than anyone. The poetry flyer weighed heavy in the supplies bag Virgil had stuffed it in last minute.

He wasn’t giving the competition any serious thought. But, it felt good to write. To create a calm rhythm on paper to relax him. So why did he keep putting his work up to par with professional standards when he usually just wrote for himself?

Virgil sighed. The poetry competition was getting to his head and it should be the least thing he was focused on. Beyond the competition, there was a stronger itch that Virgil could not ignore anymore.

“Pat, let’s go over it one more time. Just so that there’s no questions when we get there.” Virgil suggested, already opening the notes app on his phone.

Virgil not so much saw but felt Remy roll his eyes; however, Patton nodded encouragingly.

“We’re investigating the New Prince Castle.” Virgil broached. “It was a family run business that gave kids a ‘medieval experience’ by giving them roles like kings or jests. The night that the family was murdered, there were five employees working.”

“The two parents, their two sons Roman and Declan Prince, and Roman’s husband, Thomas Sanders.” Patton listed.

“Right. All five employees were murdered, but due to the remaining family’s request for confidentiality, the details of the murder we never released to the public. What we do know is that the day the murder took place, the New Prince Castle was closed for renovations and guarded, with cameras on the outside that caught no one slipping in.”

Patton scrunched his nose in confusion. “So they caught no one sneaking in?”

“Right.” Virgil confirmed. “Which can mean three things. Either someone has extremely lucky; had extensive knowledge of the security cameras and the guards shifts; or our killer was already inside to begin with.

“You think it could have been an inside job?” Patton gasped.

Abruptly, the car jerked to a stop and Virgil’s laptop hopped from his lap onto the matted floor. The car halted on an empty path that stretched forward for miles.

“What the hell, Remy? How about a bit of a warning next time?”

Silence echoed through the small car.

Virgil rolled his eyes and leaned forward to wave his hand in front of Remy. “Hello? Earth to the maniac driver responsible for the safety of two teenagers.”

Remy snapped out of his daze, meeting Virgil’s eyes through the rearview mirror and gaving him a tight smile. “Sorry, but you’re ruining my vibe. You’d be distracted too if murder and deceit was constantly being blabbed in your ear.”

“No one’s telling you to listen.” Virgil retorted, settling back into his seat. When the car refused to move, Virgil kicked the driver’s seat. “Drive, Rem. We have a castle to get to.”

“Somethings are better left alone.” Remy muttered, and Virgil flipped him off in intelligent response.

Agonizingly slow, Remy pressed the accelerator until they matched their previous pace. Virgil shared a perplexed glance with Patton’s worried one. After minutes of twitchy silence that Virgil couldn’t find the source of, Patton spoke up.

“Do you think we’ll get any answers?” Patton wondered hesitantly.

Virgil shrugged, grateful for the break in quiet. “Maybe.” In all honesty, every investigation made his chances feel more and more slim. Virgil hadn’t caught any ground-breaking proof of the paranormal. There was voices, sounds, and unexplainable occurrences. But science freaks were stubborn. Virgil would have to catch something good-really good-to be taken seriously.

Patton cheered, “Maybe I could be your good luck charm!”

Virgil smirked in possible agreement and a more comfortable hush settled. He turned his attention to the window. The sun was bright and glared against the glass-they should make it to the castle with hours to spare.

The woods seemed to stretch on indefinitely. The trees were thick and sturdy; they formed a woody wall on both sides of the road. It both unsettled and calmed Virgil as they continued their travels.

A sudden yell broke the peace. “Argh! No, no no!” Remy exclaimed, slamming his fist on the wheel.

Virgil snapped his head away from the window worriedly. The gas engine huffed and puffed in desperation as the car slowly treaded to a halt.

“Now what?” Virgil cried. “We weren’t even talking about murder!”

No, it’s not you.” Remy ran his hand through his thick, shiny hair. “We’re out of gas.”

“You didn’t pour gas before we left?” Patton asked.

“I could have sworn I had a full tank.” Remy mumbled, ferociously tapping the fuel gauge.

“You should have double checked!” Virgil criticized. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, Remy!”

“Okay, you need to take a chill pill. I can call a tow.” Remy reasoned.

“What about the investigation?” Patton pointed out.

Remy shrugged. “You can just visit your haunted house next weekend.”

Virgil shook his head angrily. “No, Remy! Next weekend is prom, and the week after that we graduate! We need-” Virgil paused, taking a deep breath. “We need to do this now.”

Patton tapped Virgil’s shoulder and pointed at the car’s GPS map. “It’s only a few miles. We can walk.”

Remy spluttered. “Only? That’s two hours of walking in these woods! Gurl, you’re crazy. We’re calling a tow.”

As much as Virgil wanted to argue, the thought of two teenagers walking alone in the woods seemed like a cliché setup to a horror story he did not want to play part in.

“We can make it with daylight to spare.” Patton argued. “Nothing is going to happen to us. This used to be a tourist spot, remember? Nice and kid-friendly.”

“I don’t know Patton.” Virgil squirmed, unresolved.

“You stay in haunted places alone, kiddo! Taking a nice scenic stroll with your bestie is a walk in the park!”

Virgil mulled over his friend’s positive logic. “We could do some investigation along the way…”

“And it’s not like we’re alone-we’ll probably run into some families camping or something on the way.” Patton added helpfully.

As Virgil mulled the thought over, it seemed to make sense. He had Patton and Remy was a phone call away. The castle wasn’t too far. Truly, what choice did he have? This was something Virgil and Patton had to do before graduation. As Patton had put it, it was ‘one last big adventure.’

“Alright.” Virgil conceded, convinced. “Get your stuff from the trunk.”

“Y’all are crazy. Absolutely insane.” Remy blustered as Patton lifted the trunk open and Virgil stuffed his journal and laptop into his overused bag. “Why don’t you do your nerd research on somewhere spooky closer to home and I’ll drop you off there tomorrow?”

“Sorry, Rem.” Virgil apologized, slamming the trunk shut affirmatively.

“How are you getting home?” Patton asked, uncomfortably trying to balance his bag in one hand and suitcase in the other. “Did you even bring money to pay for a tow?”

Remy waved his hand dismissively. “I know a guy.”

Patton smiled and wrapped his arms around Remy gratefully. “Be safe, kiddo.”

Remy pat his back before untangling himself from Patton’s grasp. “Gurl, don’t call me kiddo. I may not look it, but I am a dinosaur compared to you two wild cats.”

Patton stepped away to leave Virgil and his unofficial guardian some privacy. Remy huffed, crossing his arms. “If you tell your parents I left you and your dad friend alone in the woods I will personally make sure ghosts are the least of your worries.”

Virgil mimed zipping his lips and tossing the key before stuffing his hands in his pockets. Hesitating, he asked, “Remy, you’re okay, right? Like, you’re done being weird?”

Remy chuckled, but his shoulders remained tense. “Sis, I’m gonna be honest. Do I like the thought of leaving you alone to investigate some shifty castle? Of course not. I don’t mind your haunted houses or mysterious abandoned sex dungeons or whatever. But this castle?” Remy trailed off ambiguously.

Virgil squinted his eyes in contemplation. “Have you been to the castle before?”

“When I was a kid,” Remy explained. “It gave me…” Remy cut himself off, as if he couldn’t find the right word, and shook his head distractedly, “Not good vibes.”

Virgil softly smacked Remy’s shoulder, wanting to snap the drama queen out of whatever uncanny mood had struck him. “I get you. It’s a weird abandoned castle that used to be run by some extra family who thought it was still medieval times. We’ll be careful.”

“Yeah.” Remy clapped his hands together, then smirked. “I filled my mushy quota for the next year, at least. Go on and talk to your demons or whatever.” Remy teased. “Just do me a solid and don’t let me know if you find any ‘evidence.’ That castle has got me spooked enough.”

Virgil faked giving Remy’s request some thought. “We’ll see how I feel.”

“Seriously, Virge!” Remy protested.

Virgil raised his hands in acquiescence, yielding to Remy’s chicken request. Giving Remy a final goodbye salute, he strode to where Patton was waiting and entertaining himself with kicking a pebble from foot to foot.

When Virgil arrived, Patton greeted him with a questioning eyebrow raise and a not-so-subtle glance at Remy. Virgil shrugged off his concern with a nonchalant head shake. Remy truly was odd without his coffee.

“We should start heading now just so that we’re sure we’ve got enough daylight.” Virgil determined, beginning to tread forward on the side of the road. Patton eagerly followed in suit with one last wave to their melodramatic ex-driver.

Clapping his hands giddily, Patton beamed, “New Prince Castle, here we come!”

Taglist:

@suspicious-sweaters @septicstarlight

Special thanks to @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors for helping me out with the tag list and linking!

#thomas sanders #sander sides #thomas sanders fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #remy sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #LAMP #CALM #fluff #angst

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sosa-sketch · 5 years

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Sanders Sides Animation!

I’m going to officially open up applications!

Based on a majority vote, we will choose an episode of Sanders Sides to animate/storyboard. Artists will be put into a group chat where the options will be given.

How do you become an artist?

Post a reference of your work and tag me @sosasketch. Make the title of your work “Animation Application” so I can easily find you. You have until June 23, (3 days!) to apply. Applications will close June 23, 11:59 PM, EST.

How will the work be split?

The episode will be split up into different clips. The number of clips each artist will be assigned will be equally split depending on the amount of artists we have. There will be periodical deadlines to make sure work is being done. If you cannot meet a deadline because of personal matters, contact me and we’ll work it out.

How detailed do I have to be?

Obviously it is not expected of you to make a detailed, shaded, perfect animation or drawing. That would take too much time and it would overwork you. You DO, however, need to lineart you work. Coloring is appreciated but NOT NECESSARY if you don’t have the time.

Can I participate if I can draw, but not animate?

Of course! You can storyboard-which I assume many animators will be doing instead of a full-fledged animation. All artists are welcomed!

What if I don’t have a digital program?

There are many free digital programs you can download. If you want to do it by paper, just scan your work and send it to me. Contact me with further questions.

How much creative liberty do I have?

Almost unlimited! What do I mean by that?

-Full animation, storyboard, or anywhere in between.

-Sides can be drawn in personal style. (They don’t need to look like Thomas!)

-Lip sync or no lip sync

-Detailed or simple

-Etc

Will I be given credit?

Of course! As well as being credit in the end credits, a watermark of your name or username will be added to your work. I will also link any social media you want in the credits.

Will I, Sosasketch, be participating?

Yep! I’ve been animating for a few years. You can see some of my work at the bottom of this post.

How can I help if I’m not an artist?

Share, share, share! The more people the better. Post a link to this page on your social media or tell your friends.

This project cannot happen without enough people or dedication. If we are undermanned the project will be cancelled-I’m not looking to overwork anyone.

The same goes for people who quit, slack, or constantly refuses to meet deadlines. We’re a team and are all held to the same standards. If you know you won’t have the time, that’s okay! There are no hard feelings. Don’t sign up for something you cannot keep up with.

With that said, I really hope we can make this happen! Send me those applications and please share this post!

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sosa-sketch · 5 years

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Hey! Sorry I’ve been inactive recently, but I’ve been working on new ideas; including my new project, Tales for Trevor.

With my fundraiser Tales for Trevor, when you donate I will write you a tale. With as a little donation of $1 you can get the narrative of your fantasies personally written for you.

Click the link, donate, and send me the information/specifics of your story and I’ll have it to you asap. All proceeds go directly to The Trevor Project.

The Trevor Project is dedicated to saving the lives of LGBTQ+ young people. They offer crisis services, resources, and education and are the largest advocates for LGBTQ+ individuals.

Whether you donate or not, please repost this! Any help counts, especially when it comes to helping this lifesaving organization.

Below the donation amounts and story lengths are specified. :)

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sosa-sketch · 5 years

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Females in Dhaka are guarded by teenage students after several girls were raped by officials of the Bangladeshi government for protesting against dangerous roads.

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sosa-sketch · 5 years

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sosa-sketch · 5 years

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Fright or Flight: Chapter 2

Parings: Prinxiety // Logicality // Platonic LAMP

Unknown to them, a secret entity in the castle does not plan on letting them succeed.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

When Patton first met Virgil, his last intention was to become friends with him. Virgil had built up a notorious reputation over the first few months of school, and his grades did nothing to disprove his status. Patton wasn’t the type to judge a person’s character based on rumors nor looks. No one was a higher believer in the benefit of doubt than Patton! However, Virgil’s first impression did not help his case.

Virgil transferred into Patton’s English class the second semester due to a schedule change. When the teacher stated a new team project was to be completed, Patton did not shy away from offering to be Virgil’s partner. He understood how difficult it could be being the new kid in a class full of friends and cliques.

The project was hefty, an collection of novel analyzing, essays, vocabulary, and journal entries. Patton was not looking forward to the Shakespearean project-Shakespeare’s language was alien to him. It occurred to Patton that pairing up with the soon-to-be-dropout may not have been his best idea. Nonetheless, Patton refused to be jaded.

The first day of the project, Virgil refused to touch the work.

“There’s no way I’m touching this project.” Virgil sneered. “Especially about Shakespeare.”

“Huh?” Patton had not fully processed Virgil’s words. “Is it because you don’t understand it?”

“Sure.”

“Neither can I! I guess Shakespeare really has our brains shaken up! Maybe we can ask the teacher to go over it for us?”

The teen huffed and shook his head. Virgil laid his head on the wooden desk and his eyes slipped closed. He napped for the rest of the period.

His behavior continued for weeks. Patton had tried everything in his power to get Virgil to help him out. Patton’s seemingly endless supply of compliments and encouraging gestures served no help.

Patton’s mind had conjured countless excuses for Virgil since Virgil himself refused to give one. At the beginning the excuses had seemed feasible. Lack of sleep? Family issues? However, by week three, Patton was already scraping the bottom of the barrel, trying to justify Virgil’s dismissive attitude with clones and possible mind control. Virgil was no closer to lifting up a pencil, there were ten days left of the project, and Patton still understood little to nothing about Shakespeare. Patton was flying solo and time was ticking.

The final week before the project was due, Patton caught the flu.

Patton would chalk up the flu to the top three sucky sicknesses of his lifetime. His fever was raging, his skin drowning in sweat while the insides of him iced over. Patton couldn’t tell when being awake ended and when sleep began. The only alarm in Patton’s body was the churning in his gut that rushed him to the toilet.

Understandably, the project was the last thing on his mind.

Patton would not remember his Shakespeare mission until the Sunday before it was due, when he was shaking off the final remnants of the flu. The realization hit him like a train, but by the time he went flying off his bed and hurriedly logging on to his computer to check the time, Patton knew it was hopeless. There was no way he could get the project done in a few hours and counting. Not when all his energy was going into fighting of sneezes and headaches.

Patton was dejectedly scrolling through his email filled with newsletters from adoption sites and animal protection agencies when a subject line caught his eye: “English Project.” Linked to the email were word documents and an audio file. Perplexedly, Patton opened the email.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: English Project

Patton,

so apparently you’ve been sick. class is way more quiet without you their, which is wierd.

i think i did everything you hadn’t done. it’s gonna be really mispelled and confusing and shit. sorry. i’m not the best with righting. feel free to fix anything.

get well soon.

-V

p.s. sorry for acting like a jerk. i owe you a explanation monday.

Patton hugged his computer screen and laugh with relief. He had no idea why Virgil was so nervous. His ideas were brilliant. A week later, Patton would see an A in his gradebook for the Shakespeare project.

There was a reason why Patton never lost faith in people.

True to his word, the next week Virgil explained his mistreatment to Patton. Virgil struggled with dyslexia. While he was getting tutoring in overcoming his learning disability, Virgil’s writing made him incredibly insecure. His old teacher always let him work individually, but the new teacher wasn’t having it. Before class, the teacher pulled him aside and told Virgil he was no different from any other student and would have to work with a partner. Virgil, determined to spite the teacher and anxious to seem like an “idiot” in front of Patton, would pretend to sleep the whole period.

“All your writing took was a quick grammar fix. The ideas were so good! I’m not just saying that to say that, they actually were! I could never think of something like that.” Patton reassured enthusiastically.

Virgil flushed a bright red. “I didn’t do much. Shakespeare is a lot easier to understand with audio.”

Patton listened to the audiobook of Macbeth that night. Virgil clearly wasn’t giving himself enough credit.

Virgil and Patton quickly grew close once the project was done. Virgil was still quiet, snappy, moody, and detrimentally insecure, but he began to open up more as the months went on. By senior year, Patton and Virgil was joined at the hip. Two peas in a pod.

Virgil had grown a lot since freshman year.

Being joined at the hip with Virgil meant that Patton got to understand Virgil by the simplest change in body language or expression. It also meant that Patton became aquatinted with anyone close to Virgil.

Patton already had a bad feeling while Virgil’s tone had shifted on the phone the night they were chatting about yearbook quotes. Remy sending Patton a text only confirmed the ball of dread in his stomach.

Rem: pat can we talk ?

Patton: You don’t even have to ask! Everything ok?

Rem: it’s about v

Rem: have you guys talked recently ? out of school

Patton: We talked last weekend. Over the phone. Why? Is Virgil fine??

Rem: idk. he came over to my house a couple nights ago at like 5 am. talked about some ghost shit.

Patton: He woke you up to talk about ghosts??(language!)

Rem: looking for affirmation that he wasn’t some obsessed ghost freak. i told him nah

Rem: but tbh he kinda is obsessed

Patton: He is passionate about his ghosts! But that’s not a bad thing.

Rem: v strongly disagrees. the whole thing about the yearbook and ghost quotes really messed with his head

Patton: I didn’t mean anything bad by it! It was just an idea! I promise! I’ll apologize to him!!!

Rem: wait no thats not what im saying. no one blames u

Rem: is he doing any ghost stuff anytime soon

Patton: Yep. He’s going to visit a castle!

Patton: Is that bad?

Rem: don’t you remember last time v became paranoid abt something? he pulled some real stupid stuff just to prove ppl wrong

Patton: Yeah. I know.

Patton: Gosh now I’m worried :(

Rem: i just dont want him doing anything he’ll regret on the trip. can u just…idk watch out for him pls ? ik v can take care of himself. but sometimes he gets into this headspace that’s self-destructive

Rem: tbh i dont like his ghost stuff as it is. i dont need him doing something dumb either

Patton: I understand Rem. That’s really sweet of you <3 <3

Patton: I’ll look out for him! I promise!!!! :-) :-)

Rem: ty. dont tell v abt this convo tho

Despite feeling uneasy about it, Patton understood Remy’s request to keep silent. Telling Virgil about their conversation would only push Virgil away and make him defensive. It’d be impossible to look out for him.

Virgil had already given Patton a way in. Patton had to talk to Logan for Virgil and get any supplies he might need. Patton loved visiting Logan in and of itself. Maybe Logan could help him out.

Logan’s business was located near small shops clustered along the beach. It was a hotspot for tourists, where knickknacks and souvenirs were sold and expensive attractions were advertised. Patton walked along here with Virgil sometimes, stopping at the arcade or mirror maze. Patton had met some of the most interesting people in the small touristy town.

Among the attractions was a dark blue shingled building with a pointy-roofed top. Painted letters on a wooden board spelt out “Afterlife Exposed.” Patton stepped through the door and a bell gently ringed, signaling his arrival.

At the sound of the bell, a tall, dark-haired man turned around. His navy suit blended in with the darkness of the shop. The man’s lean body was captivated beautifully in the suit. Patton quickly averted his eyes, blushing furiously.

“I have been expecting you-oh. Greetings, Patton. What a surprise.”

“Hi Logan!” Patton waved enthusiastically. “Who were you expecting?”

“No one. It’s a new rule Father has implemented. I must say it to every customer to ‘set the mood,’ as he calls it.” Logan dragged his hand over his face exasperatedly. “I find it quite ridiculous. But business shall be business.”

Logan’s father technically owned Afterlife Exposed. But he was always hidden in the back, gathering supplies or experimenting. Logan was currently studying entrepreneurship in college in order to take over the family business someday.

“How may I help you today, Patton?” Logan inquired, stepping around the counter to stand in front of him. He was even taller up close.

Patton filled Logan in about the New Prince Castle family murder and Virgil’s plan to investigate the castle for one of his ghost routines. Logan nodded politely the whole way through.

“I see. What an intriguing case. What exactly does he need from me?”

Patton shrugged cluelessly. “Anything you think might help, I guess.”

“What’s his budget?”

“A coffee and cake pop from Starbucks, if he uses his gift card.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “And he sent you to purchase something from here? Why, he couldn’t even afford a keychain.”

“Come on, Logan! He’s one of your most loyal customers and between us, he’s going through a rough patch. Can’t you help him out? Please?”

Logan massaged his temples and sighed. “Patton, it’s just not something the business can afford to do right now. My Father and I have been dealing with a sort of rough patch as well. You and Virgil have my sincerest apologies-truly, you do.”

Patton nodded dejectedly, “I understand.” Spotting Logan’s hesitant expression and tense form, he rested a hand on Logan’s shoulder and grinned. “Really, I do. I don’t blame you.”

Logan gave a small, tight-lipped smile in return. Gently shaking Patton’s hand off his shoulder, he clasped his hands together tightly. “Well, is there anything else I can do for you?”

“I’m not too sure.” Patton pursed his lips in thought. “Well, actually. I was wondering if you could tell me the dos and don’ts of ghost hunting. The yays and nays. The cats and dogs-actually no scratch that, both of those would be a yay.”

“With all due respect, Patton, I think Virgil has got that covered.” Logan reassured. “He must have asked me a dozen times prior to his first investigation.”

“Oh yeah, I know. It’s for me.” Patton corrected.

Logan raised an eyebrow in perplexion. Patton had never shown an interest in ghost hunting when Virgil wasn’t to be found.

Patton thought quickly. “I just want to understand more. For when I talk to Virgil. Sometimes I really don’t get half the explanations coming from the kiddo’s mouth.” It wasn’t a lie. “Just…how do you deal with ghosts?

“I see.” Logan clicked his tongue. “I’m sure Virgil could explain it to you more in depth. But, if you’re ever in doubt, chalk it up to one thing: respect. Is what you’re doing respecting the afterlife and their home? Are you portraying common courtesy? Treat them with the same respect as the living, if not more. There are exceptions, as with anything, but for the most part, that should keep you out of trouble with spirits.”

“Respect.” Patton repeated.

“You have strong morals, Patton. If you’re concerned about involvement with the afterlife due to your closeness with Virgil, I would not worry. Lack of respect is the last of your weaknesses.”

Logan pulled out his phone from the back of his pocket. “I apologize, I must return to my work. However, if you or Virgil have any more questions, feel free to give me a call.”

Patton gushed and thanked Logan, jotting down his number. Logan flushed a gentle red and held out his hand for a handshake.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Patton.”

Patton swatted Logan’s hand away and brought him in for a hug. “Thank you, Logan.”

Logan awkwardly pat Patton on the back before ungracefully untangling himself from the embrace. “I was only doing my job. Now, I understand it’s none of my business, but I recommend getting some rest. You look exhausted.”

“High school has permanently carved bags under my eyes.” Patton shook his head defeatedly.

Logan gave an amused smirk. “You sounded like Virgil.”

Patton beamed. “Like father, like son!”

Just as Patton was about to turn around to leave the store, something in the corner of the room glistened, catching his eye. “Hey Logan? Just one more thing?”

Logan hummed at him, encouraging Patton to continue.

He pointed to the object at the corner of the room. “How much can I get that for?”

“Walkie-talkies. I sent you to Logan Berry, one of the smartest, most knowledgeable people about the afterlife in this town, and you come back with a Ghost Buster walkie-talkie.” Virgil grunted, dangling the toy by its antennae.

“You can have the Casper the Ghost one instead.”

“What? No! Ghost Busters is better, anyway.” Virgil groaned. “That’s not the point. How about advice? Did Logan say anything?”

“Just to respect the ghosts. Have common courtesy. Which you better be doing anyway, even without Logan telling you to do so.”

Virgil threw his hands up in exasperation and fell down into his sofa as the cushions engulfed the skinny man. “Obviously I respect them! The last thing I need is coming home possessed and cursed! He knows I know that. That’s really all he said?”

“Besides giving us his number.” Patton confirmed. “Which I already gave you.”

Virgil grumbled. “Whatever. One day I’ll get enough money to- wait. The walkie-talkies. There’s no way you could have bought them with my money, I would not have had enough. Please don’t tell me…”

Virgil got a glance of Patton’s sheepish look and groaned. “Patton, we have a rule! No buying each other anything!” He buried his head in his hands. “I can’t pay you back. You know that.”

“Hey…” Patton took a seat next to Virgil and laid a comforting hand on his knee. “It’s okay. They weren’t expensive. You don’t have to pay me back.”

Virgil looked at Patton in between his fingers. His voice was muffled against his palms. “You know how I feel about that, Pat.”

“Virgil, come on.” Patton pleaded.

Virgil shook his head. “Thank you. But, you need to return them.”

Guilty silence settled among the two, but neither made a move to leave. Both were lost in their own worlds when an idea struck Patton.

He nudged Virgil. “I know a way for you to pay me back without money.” At Virgil’s unimpressed look, he protested, “Seriously! It would mean a lot more to me than whatever these walkie-talkies cost.”

“Yea?” Virgil lifted his head from his hands. “What is it?”

Patton stared at Virgil’s stormy eyes as his heart pounded. In all honesty, this was the last thing Patton wanted to do. He was terrified. But, he thought back to the conversation he had with Remy, and the last time Virgil did something senseless unsupervised due to paranoia. “I want to go ghost hunting with you. At the New Prince Castle.”

Virgil’s jaw dropped. His eyes darted around Patton’s face before he shook his head and gave a weak chuckle. “Sure, Pat. Whatever you say.”

“No, I’m serious!” Patton insisted. “I’ll respect the ghosts and do whatever you tell me to do!”

Virgil was dismissing Patton before he could finish his sentence. “No, no, no. You hate ghost stories, Pat! Especially ones that are spooky and gruesome. You’d hate ghost-hutning. It’s dark and there’s lots of weird noises and tons of spiders. No way. I’m not adding more guilt to my conscience.”

Virgil made a move to get up from the sofa, but Patton refused to let the conversation drop. He grabbed Virgil’s hand and pulled him back to the seat. Virgil landed with a clumsy thump.

“Kiddo, I know I hate all those things. I’m sure I’ll be scared. But, you’ll be there too! I love you more than I hate all those things combined.”

“Patton, we can do something else together. Go to the movies. Or bowling. Normal teen stuff.” Virgil reasoned.

Patton retorted, “But ghost hunting is important to you.”

“It’s not that important. It’s a simple hobby. I don’t care that much about it.” Virgil cut off.

“I know, I know!” Patton quickly backtracked. “What I meant was that ghost-hunting has been a cool way for us to bond. It intrigues you-a perfectly normal amount-and I like seeing you happy! Just like you go walking with me along the shops by the beach even though it’s super crowded and you hate it.”

“Patton, what’s your point?” Virgil grilled.

“My point is I want to try this thing that you enjoy with you. Just like you try things for me. It’s senior year, Virgil. No one hates thinking about it more than me, but we don’t know what things are going to be like after high school. I want to find a husband, start a family. Maybe study veterinary science. You could have a publisher for your writing, become a famous author, and move. I want to do this with you. I want to get over my fear.”

Patton stared at Virgil hopefully and held out his hand. “What do you say? One more big adventure for the dynamic duo?”

Virgil stared at Patton, looked down and roughly shook his head, froze, then stared at Patton once more. Virgil’s foot rapidly tapped against the floor, creating a dizzy, distracting melody. Finally, Virgil pulled his hair and glared at Patton. “You’ll be careful?”

Patton nodded eagerly.

“And you’ll stick with me no matter what? At all times? I want you in my sight.”

Virgil dramatically groaned, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. “I guess you can come.”

Patton shot up from his seat, whooping with joy and hopping around the sofa. “Thank you, Virgil! Thank you! We’re going to have such a great time!”

Virgil peeked one eye open and gave a soft grin. “Yeah, I guess we are. You’re sure you wanna do this?”

“Never been more sure of anything in my life besides my love for you and cats! I pinkie swear it.”

Patton and Virgil intertwined pinkies before Patton winked and let go, embracing Virgil.

“Let your moms know you’re going to be gone for the weekend.” Virgil smirked. “We have a haunted castle to explore.”

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #remy sanders #deceit sanders #LAMP #CALM #platonic lamp #hurt/comfort #family fluff #fluff #logicality #prinxiety

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