Would Tael ever give Emil the chance to attempt to run? (Even if it was rigged so he'd be caught no matter what?)

CWs: Vampire whumpee, Demon whumper, Mouth whump, Fake escape chance, Blood loss, Aftermath of skin carving, Painful but brief possession

Emil’s head was spinning as Tael guided him through a portal, the blindfold around his eyes prevented him from looking around to try to ground himself. 

Tael hums as he closes the portal behind them and works on untying Emil’s wrists. “What’s wrong Emil? Cat got your tongue?” He humored, wondering why the vampire was so quiet. 

Hearing a small whimper from him caused the demon to look up just in time to see him slightly open his mouth, causing blood to start to dribble out before he closed his mouth again. 

Tael laughed “Oh that’s right! I took your tongue!” He says, almost as if he had genuinely forgotten. “Well, that just means I’ll know what you’re about to do will likely be by yourself and not because you caught someone’s attention by screaming for help.”

He takes the blind fold off. 

Emil blinks a few times as he looks around. 

Around him were woods as far as he could see, with the exception of a shack-like cabin directly behind the both of them.

He looks at the demon beside him, clearly confused.

Tael smiled “I’m giving you a chance here. There’s miles of woods all around and there’s a road that runs through it at some point. I’m going to let you run, and if you can make it to the road there’s a chance someone might come across you. If you succeed, I’ll let you go.” 

The vampire lets out a whine, in a weak attempt to voice a concern. 

“Oh I know.” The demon says, already knowing what the other was worried about. “I’m going to give you a thirty second head start. Fifteen because you’re injured, and another fifteen because I am faster than you.” He explained before digging his phone out of his pocket to set a timer. 

Emil was conflicted as he looked up at the sky, trying to gauge what time it was but the heavy cloud cover made it impossible to see where the moon was. Was Tael really going to hold true to his word? Did he even have a chance? The blood in his mouth and the blood soaking into the back of his shirt wasn’t reassuring. 

With a lash from the demon’s tail striking against the back of one of his legs, he’s snapped out of his thoughts. 

“Start running.” Tael ordered, holding up his phone to reveal that Emil had already wasted 3 seconds by getting lost in his worries. 

The vampire didn’t think, he just ran off into the woods in a random direction. He didn’t have the time to waste by thinking any more. 

He made sure to keep his mouth shut, he didn’t want to leave an obvious blood trail for Tael to follow. He could breathe through his nose, worst case scenario he could last a while without air. 

The small pains of branches hitting him and thorns catching and tearing his clothes and the skin underneath were nothing in comparison to what he’ll probably feel if he fails at this. 

He also hoped that he wasn’t just running in circles as the world was spinning and twisting around him.

~~

By the time Emil was stumbling and unable to keep moving, he failed to find the road that Tael had mentioned. 

He resorted to tucking himself into a bramble bush, hoping that Tael would think he wouldn’t be in it due to the thorns and tangled branches. 

His heart was pounding in his chest, making him want to gasp for air. He decided to open his mouth to let the blood fall out since he wasn’t moving anymore and he was trying his best to not pass out right now. 

He needed to keep his breathing calm and to make sure he could still properly listen. 

It felt like he was sitting there for hours, but it really couldn’t have been longer than 15 minutes before he heard humming in the distance. 

Emil freezes and his breath hitches in his throat. He brings his hands to cover his nose and mouth to muffle any sounds he might accidentally make. 

Tael’s humming got closer as did the sound of leaves being crunched under his hooves. 

Emil squeezed his eyes shut as it sounded like the demon was just a couple of feet away from his hiding spot. 

Then they continued to walk away, not talking a moment to falter as if he was looking around. 

Once the sound of humming and leaf crunching was further away, Emil let a sigh of relief out as he trembled. He remained in his spot as he needed to rest for longer. 

The demon was just barely still in his hearing range when he spoke. “I’m starting to get bored, I think I need a hint.” 

Emil’s eyes widened and before he could do anything, the recently carved symbol in his back lit up with sudden searing pain, forcing him to let out a scream before he could even stop himself. 

The pain claws its way up his spine before a sudden crushing pain radiates all over his head, causing him to go to clutch at his head as if he was trying to feel for something that could be taken off. 

Tears stream down his face as a teal color dotted around his vision. 

“Ah, there you are.” Tael’s voice echoed in his head. 

As quick as Tael’s voice came, it was gone. The crushing pain started to fade but the searing pain in his back remained, making it impossible for him to move even if he wanted to. 

All he could do was wait as Tael’s humming and the crunching of leaves got closer.

~~~~

Gen: @emmettnet @thebluejaysworld

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

I am back (hopefully for good this time). I am in my second semester of University and because of the situation in the UK I am at home for the first couple of months but hopefully I will able to move back into my accommodation by the end of the month. Okay little life update over, I have a short chapter for you today but I honestly really like it, I had a burst of inspiration the other day so I decided to get this chapter finished. I was giving a lot of trouble in the beginning but I managed to get it done super quickly and here it is. I hope you enjoy.

Masterlist

Summary: Patton opens up

Word Count: 2841

Warnings: Past child abuse, past emotional abuse, homophobia, homophobic parents, anxiety, self-deprecation, food mention (If I have missed anything please let me know)

Logan repeated Patton’s words over and over again in his mind. Knowing Patton, it presumably wasn’t some insignificant comment. He often had secret meanings behind his words Logan couldn’t always decipher but he had began to recognise when they appeared. Patton had something else to say but felt like he couldn’t. Perhaps, Dot and Larry had told Patton of their conversation and Logan’s rather invasive questions about Patton’s childhood? Maybe he was upset with him for his prying? What had he done? He should have known not to ask questions? Logan should apologise and allow Patton to select an appropriate punishment for his behaviour. Perhaps, it wouldn’t be to late. Maybe, if he took ownership of his actions now Patton wouldn’t be so upset. However, Patton was entitled to his anger and Logan deserved it. Logan deserved to be punished. He did something wrong. His curiosity became invasiveness and he obviously hurt Patton and he needed to make it right.

Logan stood up from his bed and took a deep breath. Gathering his nerves and mentally constructing his apology. He looked to the bear sat limply at the head of his bed for courage but all it gave him was another reminder of everything Patton had done for him, not only the monetary contributions like the clothes and furniture he had purchased for him but the continuous kindness Patton had shown him ever since they first met and every day since. Patton had given Logan a home. An escape from the hell he was living. He needed to apologise. To explain himself and hope and pray it wasn’t to late.

Logan walked downstairs, seeing Patton making preparations for dinner tonight while Declan slept on the sofa, swaddled in one of the several blankets Patton decorated with and a toy clutched in his hand. Patton was singing along to a song which was playing on the radio so hadn’t noticed Logan yet and he didn’t want to disturb Patton but the longer he waited the worse he felt. Logan walked slowly towards the kitchen, a lump forming in his throat. He hoped Patton would turn around, saving him from this drawn out torture, the spiders crawling up his throat, preventing any words from coming out. After what felt like an eternity but Logan knew it had realistically only been a couple of minutes, Patton looked up.

“Oh, hello, Logan,” Patton said switching the radio off and giving Logan his full attention which made Logan feel worse. Patton was trying. He had been trying since the day they met. To understand all of Logan’s quirks and habits, his learned behaviours and rather unconventional ones for which even he didn’t understand but Patton always tried to and for that he was grateful. Logan wasn’t easy. He was aware of that fact above all others. Yet Patton despite his own clear struggles did everything in his power to create a safe environment for him, a home. But he could not allow himself to enjoy it, to show to his true gratitude and be normal for once but he had to go and ruin everything again. “Are you alright, kiddo, you look like you have a lot on your mind,”.

“P-Patton, I feel I must apologise to you,” Logan blurted out, hoping it would expel the horrible tension weighing on him. “For my meddling and invasive questioning, it was wrong of me to pry into your childhood and invade your personal privacy. You have been nothing but kind and accommodating to me and I will accept any punishment you see fit,”.

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as he finished, he hadn’t realised how quickly words had been exiting him until he was fighting for air. He finally glanced up at Patton, having had been staring at the ground throughout his speech. The shame he felt when looking Patton in the eye was too much to bare but the heavy silence present in the air was far worse. Patton’s expression was difficult to read, it often was for him despite others describing him as an ‘open-book’ or that he ‘wore his heart on his sleeve’ both idioms Logan struggled to comprehend. His eyes were wide and his mouth slightly agape indicating surprise but Logan failed to gauge anything further. Then Patton did something Logan hadn’t expected. He hugged him.

“Let’s sit…I think we need to have a talk,” Patton said in a soft, sombre voice, it was unlike Patton’s regular sunny disposition which only heightened Logan’s anxiety yet he complied and allowed Patton to lead him to the sofa.

 Patton lead Logan to the sofa, indicating for him to sit while he sat across from him. Logan looked at him quizzically but complied, none of the tension leaving his body as Patton hoped it would yet he wasn’t surprised. Logan was cautious by nature, Patton was sure he had envisioned…no convinced himself that this situation would go in an very different direction and was sceptical of the outcome. Patton had wanted to address Logan’s belief that he was always doing something wrong and he would be punished for simply existing in time, as he believed Logan wasn’t mentally ready for that conversation but his behaviour was extremely distressing and Patton didn’t know how they could carry on as normal with so much still unknown. Perhaps it was time. He had expected his words would strike a cord with Logan but what he hadn’t expected was Logan’s reaction, maybe he should have. Patton knew Logan’s mindset had been warped after years of abuse. Of course, his brain immediately went to the worse case scenario and convinced him he was to blame. He had experienced that same thing his entire life.

“So, I want to make something clear, you have nothing to apologise for, it is me who needs to apologise. I should have been more careful with my words, it wasn’t my intention to cause you any more stress so I am sorry,” Patton said as he observed Logan, his eyes scanned his own face as if he were searching. Searching for an ulterior motive in his words but from his confused expression he could not find any. “I’m being serious Logan, I should have been honest with you from the beginning. You’re so smart kiddo, I’m not surprised you figured out something wasn’t right,”.

“B-but, I shouldn’t have pried,”. Logan interjected, withdrawing further into himself.

“I’m not upset with you for asking questions, it is a good thing, I just wish you felt like you could come to me with them but I understand why you found it easier to ask Dot and Larry, the whole situation is still a little bit of a sore spot for me,” Patton confessed, he hadn’t expected to ever be talking about his childhood again. He attempted to avoid discussing it all costs much to Emile’s annoyance but he didn’t have many happy memories from that time in his life and would much rather forget it existed at all. But that wish would be hypocritical of him considering how much he encouraged everyone around him to be open and honest with their feelings. However, he seemed to struggle with taking his own advice. “But I am willing to answer any questions that you might have,”.

“Okay…Dot mentioned that you haven’t seen nor spoken to your biological parents since the day the kicked you out,” Logan stated bluntly, Patton flinched at the sudden reminder. “Why?”.

“Um…uh…well,” Patton stuttered, he should have expected Logan to immediately begin with the question he asked himself on a near daily basis up until recently but he took a breath and then another before shifting closer to Logan. “I think it easier if I start from the beginning. My parents weren’t exactly the warmest people, they were very traditional and conservative, they had a lot of expectations…for me especially. To do good in school, go to College, get a good job as a Doctor or Lawyer...marry a…women and give them grandchildren. A lot of parents want that for their children, they want them to live happy, successful and fulfilling lives but...for my parents it was a requirement,”.

“For them nothing was more important than image and reputation, they had theirs to maintain and I couldn’t do anything that would harm it. Like get a bad grade in school or date someone they didn’t approve of. It was a lot of pressure for a kid at the time and it was hard,” Patton continued burying his hands into his shirt as he recalled the painful memories. “I wasn’t the best student. I tried but my grades didn’t reflect the effort I was putting in but I still wanted to be a doctor. They were so proud of that. That their only son was going to be a doctor but it didn’t stop their expectations from growing.

“I didn’t end up getting good enough grades to pursue medicine, so I aimed lower, I wanted to be a teacher, something attainable that I was actually passionate about but they didn’t approve. We got into so many arguments about that. I didn’t want to disappoint them but it was all I was seeming to do,” Patton trailed off, it had been years ever since Patton had told anyone about his parents or his childhood. He hadn’t expected it to be so difficult to talk about. He could feel his hands beginning to tremble as he wound his hands deeper into his shirt, he felt a nudge on the side of his leg. It was Logan. Patton hadn’t noticed Logan gradually inching closer as he told his story, the gesture was so sweet it almost completely distracted him from the growing sadness in his chest. He continued. “I-I was just figuring out my sexuality, Emile and his parents knew, they helped me a lot even back then. I wanted to come out but they didn’t think it would be a good idea. I understood why, my parents were hyper-religious and extremely intolerant to anyone they considered ‘not normal’ but I guess I was holding out hope because I was their son that they would accept me…They didn’t,”.

“I think that was the worst day of my life…it was like they didn’t know me any more and the past seventeen years I did everything for them meant nothing. They kicked me out and I moved in with Emile and his parents. It took some time but I eventually got back on my feet and I never spoke to them again,” Patton finished with an exhale, slumping over as exhaustion overtook his body, when he glanced up Logan was still by his side.

“They never reached out?” Logan asked.

“No, I haven’t heard from them since that day, they disowned me,”Patton answered so many times in the first few months he prayed for his parents to visit or call or text him, something to tell him that they still cared but nothing.

“Do Roman and Virgil know?” Logan inquired.

“Little bits and pieces. They know that Dot and Larry aren’t their ‘real’ grandparents but they never questioned it beyond that, I never told them the full story,”. Patton explained Roman and Virgil never asked any questions about their extended family. Roman had been in orphanage since he was born and as such never knew anything about grandparents while Virgil’s biological family was isolated from the rest of their family so Virgil and Dee had no relationship with them. Emile, Dot and Larry had been apart of their lives ever since they entered Patton’s and viewed them as their grandparents so he never felt the need to explain. “Do you have any other questions, I want you to feel like you can ask me anything?”.

“Your parents were not kind people,” Logan said quietly, his head down-turned and his hands wound into his trousers.

“They were not,” Patton admitted. That was the first time he had ever said it aloud. He had avoided criticising or speaking badly of his parents despite the several conversations he had, had with Emile about this very subject. They made Patton feel horrible about himself, made him believe he could do nothing right and he would never be good enough for them. Yet he couldn’t admit to himself they were wrong.

“I apologise Patton, no parent should abandon you for simply being who you are,” Logan said Patton noticed Logan’s hands twitching every so often, as if he were trying to reach it out towards him. Patton had to restrain a squeal at Logan’s attempt to comfort him. “Family should accept you,”.

“Thank you Logan, it was hard to handle for a while but I have a new family now. Roman, Virgil, Dee, Emile, Dot, Larry and now you Logan. Family doesn’t have to be blood related, it is the family that you chose for yourself that is truly special. You deserve to surround yourself with people who support you and you feel safe and happy with and I have finally found that,” Patton said reaching out to take hold of Logan’s hands and he didn’t pull away from his touch. Patton squeezed his hands and Logan returned it.

“I am pleased you found it,” Logan said softly, before dropping Patton’s hands, Logan’s words made him feel somewhat sad. Once again he was distancing himself from the family. Patton knew it would take awhile for Logan to grow comfortable enough to truly accept that he was apart of the family but hopefully in a short while he would be to convince Logan that he was an irreplaceable member. “Patton?”.

“Yes,”.

“I’m not ready to talk about it yet,” Logan said his head hung low as his entire body tensed. Patton didn’t need to ask what Logan was referring to. He knew very little of what Logan endured at the hands of his parents and while he was aware of some of what he experienced during his years at the orphanage, having been present for Logan’s police interview, he knew it wasn’t the full story. Patton knew this was the next step for Logan in order for him to settle in fully, Patton could only do so much but Logan had been through so much hurt and pain this was only the beginning.

“That is okay, I’ll be here to listen when you are,” Patton responded stretching a tentative arm out, ready to withdraw it if needed but Logan moved into his open arms, pressing his cheek against Patton’s chest. Patton hugged Logan close, resting his chin on his head, rubbing the tension out of his body.

Patton couldn’t tell you how long they sat their, Logan wrapped up so small in his arms, all of his stress and worries dissipating from his body. Patton could have stayed there forever but a quick glance towards the clock forced him back to reality. How had it gotten do late? Roman would be returning from Elliott’s shortly and both Virgil and Dee would be wondering where dinner was. Patton glanced down at Logan, only just now realising he had fallen asleep, the deep frown lines had smoothed from his forehead as he softly snored. If only Patton had his camera but he didn’t want to disturb him. He knew Logan struggled to sleep, yet another issues they needed to discuss but now wasn’t the time. Patton glanced towards the clock one more time then back towards Logan. Perhaps it was a pizza kind of night.

It feels really good to be posting again and I hope I will be able to keep up with chapter updates but I am taking a lot of classes this year so I may be a little behind with updates. I have no intention of abandoning this series, I love it way too much. If you have any questions about the series or have a request for me please do not hesitate to send me an ask.

Taglist;  @i-do-not-dislike-fudge @poems-art-darkness-n-more @alex-cain @amber1594 @darkrainbow333 @falseh0od @lovingcreatorstrawberry @mason-does-a-thing @callboxkat @tacohippy56900 @anxiousangel121 @comicsimpson @harrypotternerdprincess @cobythinks @whatschooldoesntteachyou @fandomkitty8 @coloursintheblur @read-write-inspire-repeat @clinicalawesomeness @deceit-sanders-deserved-better @scared-ghosthunter @silverstarlinedart @winterrose42 @alotofstupidstuff @imalwaysthatoneperson @glitchybina @dumbgayemo @quietwords-loudthoughts @altruistic-skittles @thecrimsonstoryteller 

OPPO is struggling in foreign countries: Germany’s case

Legal battle in Germany OPPO and its subsidiary OnePlus have stopped selling smartphones and smartwatches through their German online stores. The product withdrawal follows defeats in two SEP cases at […]

Coffin Chapter Six

Masterpost

“Oh. I see. Yes. Allow me to call you back momentarily.” Logan set the phone down.

“Who was that?” Roman asked.

“It was Emile. He wanted to know if we could house Remy, if only for a short time. His house is likely to be caught in the sweep this evening.”

“Who are they?” Roman asked.

“We met with them while considering what we ought to do with Virgil.” Logan explained. “Remy is a vampire, and is… at the very least, he will resort to violence to protect Emile.”

“Why would we keep him here? There’s plenty of room in the warehouse.” Roman asked.

“Roman, I am well aware of your stance on the matter, but please try to consider that others have differing positions. Emile wishes us to keep Remy and release him afterwards. To protect and hide him from the sweep.”

Roman frowned. “Why would he…?” His voice trailed off. “He wants us to keep a vampire alive, and let it go afterward. To go against the goal we’ve been working towards for years, and to do it behind the backs of the other hunters.”

“Yes. That is what he has requested. Though I am not certain that he is aware of our participation in the sweep.”

“No. I’m not doing it. It’s not—it’s just not right, Logan!”

“I am not in a position to make a moral judgement on this either way. However, I will say that I am inclined to allow him to stay.”

“Why?!”

“Because in all that I’ve seen of him, he acted to protect someone. And it is that person asking us to help him.”

“I just don’t understand. Just because Virgil is good at acting suddenly you both go and get all soft on vampires.”

“Surely you don’t entirely agree with the sweep. You seemed just as distraught as Patton the other night.”

“I don’t like how it’s playing out, but I still think that it’s the right idea. How could you not? Vampires have been hurting and killing for hundreds, probably thousands of years! If they were just gone, we could stop all that.”

“There. That is the point on which we differ.”

“What? That vampires hurt people?”

“No. I agree with you that vampires have caused pain and death, but I do not believe that it will stop if they are killed. It could just as easily be argued in the exact same way from their side. Humans have hurt and killed vampires for just as long as vampires have.”

“But if there’s a war from us to them, and from them to us, and it’s the war causing the problems, wouldn’t it be better for it to be over?”

“I do believe that there would be less pain if people didn’t hurt one another, but attempting to wipe out an entire subsection of people is not a cessation of fighting. It’s quite the opposite, actually.”

“But they aren’t people!” Roman insisted. “As long as there are vampires around they’ll hurt us.”

“I would have been inclined to agree with that sentiment a month or two ago, but since then I’ve opened myself to the possibility of vampires retaining their humanity. And I have found that at least 60% of them retain some aspect of the person they were before, and at least 20% of those are only marginally changed by the turning.”

Roman frowned.

“I still do not know what is the determining factor in the change,” Logan continued. “And I admit that my own experiences are much of what I can draw upon to support this hypothesis. Despite this, I intend to continue to explore this possibility and to seek out more data and obtain other people’s views on this.”

“And what is it that first made you think that vampires count as people?” Roman asked.

“It was Virgil. I believe I have recounted the result of the second test I put him through?”

Roman nodded. “So he’s a good actor. I can be a good actor. And at that point he was still under the threat of being put back in the coffin. He’d have done anything.”

“He was not under any kind of direct threat. While I could have done so, I did not, and certainly did not inform him of any consequences to failing the test. Neither did I inform him that it was a test. I believe that his decision, while possibly influenced by fear of retaliation, was mainly for the purpose of not harming another person.”

“And what, not wanting to hurt someone makes him a person? He’s dead. Or was.”

“Your position that vampires are not people seems to hinge on the fact that they invariably hurt people, so it is reasonable that a desire, and action supporting that desire, in the opposite direction would indicate the opposite.”

Patton came downstairs, walking heavily, and his eyes were red with bags underneath.

“Dad wants me to come to his house, and he wants me to bring Virgil.” Patton poured himself a coffee, something he rarely drank.

“I can come with you,” Roman offered.

“I’d appreciate that.” Patton came and sat down with his coffee. He hadn’t put anything in it other than creamer, which was even more unusual.

“Emile called,” Logan said. “He’d like if Remy can stay here for tonight.”

Patton shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

Logan looked at Roman.

Roman grimaced. “Fine. But I’m not having some random vampire wandering around and trying to kill us. He has to be in the cell, and muzzled at least. Cuffed would be even better.”

Logan nodded. “I’ll remain here, and deal with that, then.”

•^*^••

Patton felt awful. If his dad hadn’t called he wouldn’t have gotten out of bed at all. The scene from a few nights ago kept replaying in his mind. Over and over. The blood, and… and the scream. And the worst part was that it was all his fault. If he just hadn’t gone…

Virgil was following him quietly. Because they were going to be in public, and especially since they were going to his dad’s house, Virgil had on the leather muzzle and his hands were cuffed. Patton could see that Virgil was on the line between nervous and scared, but what else was he supposed to do? His dad had been very specific. He wanted Virgil there.

And both Patton and Roman would be there in case anything went wrong.

Patton walked up to the house. He knocked on the door, but no one answered. After a minute he called his dad.

“Hello?”

“Hi, dad. Where are you?”

“Oh, I’m in the barn. Sorry about that, Pat.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be right there.”

It was fine, until they neared the barn. Maybe twenty or thirty feet away Virgil suddenly stopped, and pulled away from Roman when he tried to pull him forward.

“What’s wrong?” Patton asked.

Virgil couldn’t talk with the muzzle on, but he shook his head. His eyes were panicked, and he kept trying to pull away from Roman.

“Oh, come on. I’ve been in there loads of times. We aren’t handing you over or anything.” Roman said, pulling at Virgil’s arm again.

Patton laid a comforting hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “It’s alright. We’ll keep you safe.”

As soon as he opened the door Patton regretted not listening to Virgil. The sound of heavily muffled crying filled the air, not loudly at all, but all the more appalling for it. Patton looked around. Stacked five and six high, all around the barn, were coffins. His dad was standing in front of a row of cells, and in several of them were vampires, mostly laying on the ground.

“Dad. What-?”

“Patton!” His dad’s voice was far too loud, too cheerful. “Finally!”

His dad came and took him by the arm, pulling him towards the cells. The vampires inside were covered in burns.

Patton fought to breathe. His vision was swimming, and his legs threatened to buckle with every step.

“W-what..? Dad… what are you doing?” His voice only barely escaped his rapidly closing throat, and trembled the whole way out.

“Are you alright? You sound sick.”

Patton was shaking. He knew his face had to be deathly pale. The crying seemed to get louder, until it was all he could hear.

“Here, sit down, Pat.” His dad’s voice was all concern, but somehow that made it sound worse.

Patton collapsed into the cheap foldable chair. Soon Roman was there, kneeling in front of him.

“—on. Pat, come on. Talk to me.”

Patton suddenly realized that Roman had been trying to get his attention, his dad also there, but standing awkwardly, as if he didn’t know what to do.

Patton wasn’t sure that he could talk. He set a hand on Roman’s arm, and Roman smiled in a tight sort of way.

“Why don’t we go back to the house,” his dad suggested.

Roman picked Patton up, and Patton didn’t even have the strength to protest at all. Virgil followed, keeping himself where Roman was between him and Patton’s dad. He was shaking worse than Patton was.

It took several minutes of sitting on the couch with a cup of cold water for Patton to come back to himself. Roman was sitting next to him, and his dad was sitting in his chair just across the room. He looked around for Virgil, and found that he was sitting on the floor near the couch, his head bowed where Patton couldn’t see his face past his hair.

“Are you feeling better now?” Roman asked.

Patton nodded. “A bit, yeah.”

“What happened?” His dad asked. “If you were sick you could have told me. I’d never have wanted you to come all the way out here sick.”

“No, I-I’m not sick. Not that I know of.”

“Perhaps you should get checked out,” his dad suggested. “You nearly passed out back there.”

Patton nodded, still rather dizzy-feeling. “What did— what did you need me for?”

“It can wait, I have time.”

“No, I’m already out here, I can just…” Patton trailed off, but he knew his dad would understand anyway.

“Well, when I came to your house the other day, I unlocked your basement, but your vampire, instead of trying to ambush me, or trying to escape, just zipped back into the cell. I wanted you to show me how you did it. I’ve been trying on my own, but it hasn’t worked yet, and you always had a way with training vampires—“

Patton leaned over the arm of the couch, and Virgil had to scramble back to avoid getting puked on.

“Patton!” His dad came and felt his head. “You aren’t hot… I think you need to go to the emergency room.”

Roman left, and came back with a towel and a large bowl. Patton accepted the bowl and held it in his lap. He felt bad that Roman was cleaning up his puke, but he didn’t trust his legs to hold him if he tried to stand up.

“I’m gonna take him.” Roman said.

Patton’s dad nodded. “Yeah, that’d be a good idea. Call me when you figure out what’s wrong.” He leaned down and cupped Patton’s face. “Get better, honey, don’t worry about anything else, alright?”

Patton nodded weakly, still not sure that he wasn’t going to throw up again. “Can I take the bowl with me?”

“Of course. I don’t need it.”

Roman carefully picked Patton up again. He made Virgil take the front seat to that Patton could have the whole back row of the car.

They’d been driving for several minutes before Patton spoke. “I don’t think I’m sick.”

“You just threw up! And nearly passed out! What else is that supposed to be?”

“It’s just— I knew my dad didn’t like vampires, but I—I never would have thought—“ his words got cut off in a choked sob, and tears began pouring down his face. “And—and he wanted me to—“

Roman pulled over into a little side road, and stopped in an empty parking lot. He got out and came around into the back with Patton.

“Hey, it’s alright.” Roman hugged Patton as best he could with the awkward positioning.

“No, it-it isn’t! M-my dad tortures p-people!” Patton’s sobbing only got worse.

Roman just hugged him. He murmured soft things that didn’t mean anything, and stroked a hand through his hair.

•^*^••

When they got home, heh, he was thinking of it as home. Roman didn’t bother to really do anything with Virgil. Just opened the basement door, let him through, and closed and locked it.

Virgil went down the stairs, and was surprised to see a different vampire in the other cell. He was wearing the bar muzzle, but his hands were free. He only briefly glanced at Virgil before continuing his attempt at picking the lock, despite the burns he was getting.

Virgil sat down on the couch. His shoulders ached slightly from his hands being cuffed behind his back so long, but it paled in comparison to the sounds still running through his brain.

He sat there, partially drowning in his own thoughts, and partially trying desperately to escape from them.

Suddenly there was a loud noise, and movement in front of him. He jerked his head up, and saw the muzzle, laying on the ground, and a dent on the coffee table from where it had hit before bouncing off.

“Hey, know where the key is?” The other vampire asked.

Virgil shook his head.

The vampire sighed, and sat down on the mattress. “Agh, Emile…”

Virgil was mildly curious, but it wasn’t like he could ask. And the vast majority of him was just tired. A bone deep tiredness he hadn’t felt in a while. He was really starting to get hungry, too, which didn’t make anything better.

The other vampire didn’t talk to him, which made sense seeing as he couldn’t answer, and after a little while, Virgil fell asleep.

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Forty One

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

October 8th, 1996

Remy dashed after the retreating figure. “George! Hey, hold up!”

George stopped and glared at Remy, and Remy felt frozen in place. “Were you ever going to tell me?” he snapped.

“Tell you what?” Remy asked.

“That you had a crush on me?!” George asked. “You’re sick in the head, Remy! Don’t you know that you can get in serious trouble for being gay?!”

“Who...who told you I had a crush on you?” Remy asked, searching George’s face, blood roaring in his ears. It couldn’t be. No...it couldn’t...please don’t let it be him.

“Jacob told Darren, who told me,” George sneered.

“I...that was last year, George! I don’t have a crush anymore!” Remy lied.

George scoffed. “Whatever! I can’t believe you thought we could be friends. I don’t associate with queers.”

Remy stayed frozen in place as George went to his next class. Remy heard snickering from behind him. Jacob and Darren were standing there, and Darren high-fived Jacob. “Nice one. Want to sit at lunch with me?” Darren asked.

“Sure thing!” Jacob exclaimed.

Jacob told the most popular kids in school. Remy couldn’t move. The whole school must know by now...

  August 22nd, 2001

Remy watched Emile closely whenever he could get away with it in their small apartment. Emile had been wearing T-shirts over the summer, so Remy could watch his arms, but he couldn’t see any other exposed skin below Emile’s neck, and Remy was worried that Emile might be hiding fresh injuries. After seeing Emile bang his fists against his head repeatedly in frustration and then hide in his room for the rest of the day and not acknowledge Remy the next morning, well, Remy was worried.

In all honesty, he wasn’t sure he still had the right to worry over Emile, but it didn’t mean he just stopped caring. He kept to himself, too afraid to openly check on Emile, but when he was alone in his room, his head would drop, his tears would fall, and choked sobs would escape their prison. He had screwed up, probably irreparably damaged not only his relationship, but his friendship with Emile. His one friend in life who he could always count on. Who helped him find Kim. Who encouraged him to make more friends. And he had gone and tossed away that bond.

It was one morning when Remy was making breakfast that Emile walked into the kitchen, wincing as he placed a hand on his abdomen. Remy tried not to freak out as he did a mental tally of all the sharp tools in their apartment and their locations. Nothing seemed out of place or bloody this morning, but that only soothed Remy’s nerves so much.

Emile glanced over and caught Remy staring, and Remy turned back to his toast. “What?” Emile snapped.

Remy flinched minutely. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled.

“No, I didn’t cut myself, since I know you’re wondering. My stomach happens to be upset,” Emile growled. “I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of hurting myself over your words.”

“Do you honestly think I want that, Emile?” Remy asked. “Because I don’t.”

Emile didn’t even glance in Remy’s direction at that, and Remy felt his stomach sink. “What can I say, Emile? I’m sorry! I crossed a line I didn’t know was there, and I won’t cross it again!” His eyes pricked with tears. “I want to be your friend. I don’t even care if we don’t date anymore, I just want to be your friend again.”

“Well, I don’t,” Emile said, gripping the counter with white knuckles. “Because we’re always doing this. We cycle through good times, and then one bad thing happens and we’re back where we started, at each others’ throats, only this time we know where to find the jugular. I don’t want to keep going through that cycle the rest of my life.”

“But we can get better at that, can’t we? I’ve gotten more stable! I just didn’t realize that we both had strong opinions on this! Can’t we...can’t we at least be friends? Can’t we at least try?” Remy begged. “Please, Emile. I don’t want to lose you.”

Emile’s eyes were hard as he finally looked over, and Remy knew he looked pathetic. Eyes red and puffy, tear tracks on his cheeks because he was always such a crybaby. He would never outgrow that. “It’s a bit late for that,” Emile said simply, pushing himself off the counter.

Remy wilted. “Oh,” he said softly. Then, “Will you take me to therapy still, or should I walk?”

“How did you get there last week?” Emile asked.

“I didn’t. Kim’s getting ready to move practices, and states. We’ve been moving from every week to every other week, in an attempt to get me used to not going to a therapist as often, because if I choose another one, then I might have to be put on a waiting list for a while,” Remy said.

“If?” Emile asked. “Not when?”

“Well, considering this whole situation, I’m pretty sure that I can’t get any better than this,” Remy said, letting his arms spread before falling to his sides. “I didn’t think I needed any more help, two weeks ago. I thought I’d be fine. But clearly, all the change has just been superficial, if I’m still hurting you.” He shook his head. “Why am I even telling you this? You don’t want to be my friend, you don’t want to hear about this.”

Emile looked conflicted for a brief second, before his face returned to its stony, neutral state. “I have to get to work,” he said by way of reply, grabbing some granola and leaving the kitchen. “If you need a ride to therapy, call me. But I’m sure you can walk there just fine in about an hour.”

Remy nodded silently, turning back to his toast. He listened to Emile get dressed in a hurry, and head out the door, slamming it possibly a little harder than necessary. Flinching minutely, Remy went back to eating his toast. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to eat, but he needed it if he was going to be working today. He tried to avoid the thought that Emile would be upset if he didn’t eat. Emile didn’t want to be friends, he had made that very clear. And people who weren’t your friends didn’t actively want you to care for yourself, not in the sense that friends did.

He was alone. He felt so alone, and it wasn’t fair, except it was. He had brought this punishment on himself, and now he had to face the consequences. Remy took a deep breath, forcing the bile crawling up his throat back down. Now was not the time to cry himself sick. He had work to get to, and therapy later tonight.

Remy walked his way to the local coffee shop, wishing not for the first time that he could have gotten that promotion to manager. Instead of him, Steven had been promoted. Which, that wasn’t the worst choice they could have gone with, but Steven didn’t exactly go the extra mile, either. He would look out for himself, and only himself.

As Remy came in the doorway, a couple people nodded at him, and he offered them weak smiles back. He hadn’t been able to tell anyone here about his issues with Emile, just implying that he had a bad couple weeks over a break up, without being able to use Emile’s name, because Steven was always around. It frustrated him to no end that he was constantly forced to hide this part of himself. He wanted to jump on the counters and scream, “I’m here, I’m queer, and if you have a problem with that, then say it to my face!”

But that would be suicide when it came to his job, so he forced himself to keep his mouth shut just a while longer. He didn’t know how much longer he’d have to do it, considering that yeah, Fairview was liberal enough, but not the people inside it who he ran into on a daily basis. He wondered how any of the blue politicians actually got into office around here, if there were so many homophobes, but, he reasoned, if the politicians didn’t reveal their stance on the LGBT community, and focused more on schools or taxes or whatever, then they could slip under the radar and help people like Remy, which he appreciated.

Even if he no longer had any plans to date, or get married. He saw Emile as really the only one he’d be willing to risk hate crimes for. Who he’d find a way in the legislature to marry. And now Emile was gone. Probably never coming back. And that sucked.

One of his coworkers cornered him in the back room as he was tying his apron on. “Boyfriend troubles?” he asked in a low voice. Steven was one of the few people still in the dark about Remy’s identity, because Steven was very vocal about political views, and he was very, very conservative. He also happened to be using the office one room over.

“We broke up. Really messily. Two weeks ago. And he’s still snarling at me, and I feel awful.” Remy shook his head. “I mean, he has the right to, I was the one who provoked him, but I really wish I hadn’t.”

“And he won’t listen to you?”

Remy laughed. “Would you, if I were a complete and utter asshole to you all because I didn’t think you could get hurt?”

“Not at first. But two weeks is a long time, man. He’s not still licking his wounds, he’s holding a grudge.”

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine,” Remy insisted. “It’ll be okay, I’ll be okay. I just need a little more time, and maybe a new roommate. I know it would make him feel better, at the very least.”

“Picani! Where are you?!” Steven asked, walking in.

“Right here,” Remy said. “Just struggling a little with the straps on my apron. Bradley was helping me.”

“Well, fix it fast, because I need both of you out here for the morning rush,” Steven snapped.

The second he left Remy breathed a sigh and Bradley grimaced. “Is it just me, or did Steven get worse when he was promoted?”

“Not just you,” Remy said. “Although I always thought he was fishy, so this is less of a surprise to me personally.”

Bradley grimaced again and both of them left the back room to deal with the morning rush. Remy appreciated the distraction so long as he didn’t think about it as a distraction. Because if he did that, he would get memories of the shelter, and hanging out being happy with Emile...and he would get upset and possibly teary-eyed that he couldn’t have that anymore. And no one wants their barista sobbing into their coffee, Remy, so you have to pull it together, man, Remy reminded himself.

A pang in his chest resonated when he remembered Emile calling him “girl” on those days where he was super confused about his gender, and he bit his lip to keep back the tears. He kept biting at every little thing that came into his head that reminded him of Emile, which had to be about half of the world, until he tasted copper. He put a hand to his mouth, pulling it back to see blood. He winced. He hadn’t realized he was biting that hard.

Retreating to the bathroom to wash his hands free of blood, he tried to force all thoughts of Emile out of his mind. It wasn’t working very well, in all honesty, but he had to try. He couldn’t end up sobbing into someone’s coffee. Steven would get mad and all his other coworkers would know something was up and those who had initiative when it came to friends might kill Emile. He didn’t want Emile dead, he just wanted to be friends. But he had squandered that opportunity, unaware of how much he needed Emile’s support until it was gone.

The rest of his shift, Remy was on the edge of crying, but never actually broke down. He got a few concerned looks, and a massive headache from holding the tears back, but he managed to do it in the end. And the second his shift ended, he was out of there. He walked back home, only to realize that Emile would be back at this point too. He turned away from the door and walked back outside the complex, resolving to go to therapy. After all, he didn’t have a lot of time before his next appointment anyway. Not if he had to walk there.

He trudged along the sidewalk, letting himself cry just a little, trying to ease the headache that was killing him. He was tired, and miserable, and he could feel a tickle in the back of his throat. He sincerely hoped he wasn’t getting sick. The last thing he needed was to be stuck at home with Emile before Emile’s classes started up. But knowing his luck, he would end up with the flu and be bedridden for a solid week.

When Kim opened the door to her office and let Remy in, Remy sighed. “I screwed up, Kim. Like, really badly.”

“Let’s talk about it,” Kim said. “I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”

Infinitesimal (part 55)

Author’s note: Enjoy!

Warnings: asthma attack, fear, hospital stuff, death mention, panic attack, entitlement, dissociation

Word count: 3075

Infinitesimal Masterpost!

Writing Masterpost!

...

Logan groggily opened his eyes and squinted up towards the familiar, glow-in-the-dark star stickers that patterned constellations across his ceiling. Something must have roused him—normally, he slept through the night—but he was unsure of what that something could be.

He turned and glanced towards the clock, whose numbers glowed in the darkness. Just past three in the morning. Not an optimal time to rise. Why was he awake at such an hour?

More curious than tired, he listened for a moment, just in case there turned out to be something going on that required his attention, and heard a muffled thump from the adjacent room. Ah. Roman. His roommate must have still been awake, working on that project of his. Logan considered getting up to ask him to be quieter, debating whether doing so was worth leaving his bed when there might well be no further disturbances.

Before he had decided either way, there was a loud crash— like someone dumping several bags of marbles on the ground at once.

Logan’s breath caught, any sleepiness instantly vanished. He knew exactly what that sound was.

He was out of bed before he was aware of moving, grabbing his phone and shoving it in his pocket as he raced to the door, throwing that open and dashing down the hall to Roman’s room.

His hand paused briefly on the door handle.

What if he was overreacting? What if it had just been an accident, and he looked foolish for bursting in over nothing?

But what if it hadn’t?

Logan opened the door, holding back only because he couldn’t be sure that Roman wasn’t right behind it. “Roman! Roman, are you okay?” he called through the gap, paying no heed to his inappropriately high volume for the time of night.

There was a choking, wheezing sound, and what sounded like an attempt at saying his name. Logan shoved the door the rest of the way open, his fears confirmed.

Roman lay sprawled on the bed, his body crumpled where he must have collapsed after pushing the rocks to the floor.

Logan dashed into the room, solely focused on his friend, only to immediately fall to the floor, slipping on a polished stone in a fashion that might have been comical in another circumstance. Logan impatiently swept his arm across the floor, sending as many of the stones scattering out of his way as he could, and hurried to the bed.

“Roman, can you hear me? Where’s your inhaler? Can you talk?”

Roman wheezed in a rattling breath, coughing as he attempted to fill his lungs. “Dropped—it,” he got out. He raised a trembling arm and pointed vaguely past Logan before letting it drop back to the bed.

Logan turned and saw the topmost drawer of Roman’s dresser lying on the floor, its contents spread haphazardly around it. “Okay, that’s okay,” he said, his voice shaking. “Just keep breathing; I’ll find it.” He reached for his friend and attempted to shift him into a more comfortable position, since his neck was bent at an awkward angle that would only make breathing more difficult, then went to the pile of items on the floor. He shoved aside combs, makeup, cough medicine, deodorant, various other items that were not the inhaler, searching for the distinctively L-shaped medical device. The entire time, he was horribly aware of Roman’s pained wheezing in the background.

“Roman—Roman, I can’t find it,” he said, scrambling for his phone. “I’m calling 911.”

He stood up, already dialing, and froze. The inhaler lay on the floor, half-hidden by the comforter of Roman’s bed. Logan snatched it and returned to Roman’s side.

He helped Roman sit up, his friend practically dead weight as he was propped against pillows, and put the inhaler to his lips. One puff. Two.

Roman continued to gasp, wheezing in a way that was painful to watch.

“It’s not working,” Logan declared, grabbing his phone again.

Roman made a sound, distinct from the wheezing, and Logan looked up. If anything, Roman seemed more alarmed than before.

Logan stamped down a fleeting feeling of impatience. His roommate was afraid, which was perfectly understandable. “Roman, I’m sure you don’t want to go to the hospital, especially given the date; but this is serious,” he said. “I have to call them.”

Roman’s hand scrabbled against the phone, and his eyes darted towards the door.

Logan followed his gaze, realization suddenly hitting him. His mouth opened in a small “o”.

“Pa—” Roman gasped, “Pa…ttuh,”

Logan faltered.

Roman didn’t want the “mouse-men” to be found. He was in the middle of a severe asthma attack, and he was worried about the welfare of their guests.

“I’ll take care of it,” Logan promised. “I’ll be right back.” He shoved the phone in his pocket, looked around, and seized a dented cardboard box from beside the dresser. He tore off the lid, dumped its contents on the floor at the foot of Roman’s bed, then dashed out of the room.

He tore through the kitchen and into the living room, nearly falling as he rounded the corner. He entered the living room, flicking on the light, and skidded to a stop in front of the “mouse-men’s” table, barely noticing the alarmed noises that met him. He tried to quickly explain the situation, that there was an emergency and he had to hide them, that they had to stay quiet and hidden. He wasn’t sure how well he did in his endeavor, but there wasn’t time to worry about having scared them. The entire time, he was only able to think about how he needed to get back to Roman.

He put the cardboard box over the table, ignoring the guilt he felt at the wide-eyed, upturned faces staring up at him, and pulled out his phone again. He hit the call button as he ran back to Roman’s room. He was talking as soon as the operator picked up.

“Hello, my name is Logan Fong; my roommate is having an asthma attack; we live in apartment 2B of—"

…

Emile was jolted awake by booming footsteps that shook the whole room as they pounded nearer, making his arm and head ache. He struggled to open his eyes, only to be met with a blinding light flaring into existence above. He squeezed his eyes shut again, letting out a gasp of pain and surprise.

A rapid voice was speaking overhead—Logan, he registered through his alarm.

“—an emergency. I have to call the paramedics. He’s having an asthma attack. You need to be quiet and stay hidden until they’re gone. This is very important; there’s no other way. I have to get back to Roman, I’m sorry.”

Emile rubbed at his eyes and stared up at Logan’s equally terrified face, uncomprehending, only to have something placed over them with a thump, shrouding them in darkness again.

Logan’s hurried footsteps left the room, leaving the littles alone with their questions and their fear.

They could hear noises from elsewhere in the apartment, thumps, footsteps, Logan’s voice, too indistinct to give them any real information. Something bad was happening, though; that much was clear.

“What the hell?” Virgil finally whispered, his voice trembling uncontrollably.

Emile reached in the dark, fumbling until he found his brother’s arm, gripping it tightly. “I don’t know,” he whispered back.

“What’s going on? Why…?”

“I don’t know,” Emile repeated. His own heart was pounding. They were in a box, he realized, the object turned upside-down to obscure them from view. The cardboard felt like little protection against whatever danger they were to be met with.

A long moment passed in tense silence. Emile’s eyes gradually readjusted to the darkness.

“Patton?” Virgil ventured in a whisper, turning to his other side. “Pat, are you okay?”

There was no response.

“Oh, sh*t.”

Emile sat up straighter, releasing his brother and watching as he pulled away and went to their friend, who hadn’t moved or made a sound since their alarming encounter with Logan.

He was half sitting up on the tabletop where he had fallen from the bed in surprise, his eyes wide and unfocused. He was stiff as a board, but that didn’t keep him from trembling.

Oh, no.

Emile had heard the stories. He knew what Patton had been through. This was their friend’s worst nightmare—being trapped again, in a dark box, by a human.

“Patton,” he breathed.

Before they could do much else to help their friend, a loud, wailing noise sounded from outside, growing closer and closer, drawing their attention back to the situation at hand. It stopped, and a minute later, the door to the apartment opened. Multiple new voices filled the space, along with what sounded like some kind of metal contraption and a barrage of other unfamiliar sounds.

Emile’s mouth went dry. More humans. Unknown humans. Humans who could find them and… he really didn’t want to speculate.

He could see Virgil, outlined in the small amount of light that the box allowed in, crouched beside Patton, both as unmoving as statues.

Emile’s terrified thoughts buzzed in his head, too many unwanted scenarios, the horrible knowledge that he was in no state to attempt an escape even if they weren’t trapped. He could only hope that they were left alone.

And then, suddenly, the apartment went silent.

Several long, long minutes passed. Finally, it was clear to the littles that they were alone once again.

Virgil was the first to speak. “What the absolute, ever loving f*ck was that?”

“Virgil,” Emile admonished.

“No—No, Em, that was—what the hell?”

“Virgil,” Emile repeated slowly. “Is Patton okay?”

Virgil whipped around like he’d been hit. He turned to Patton, searching his face.

“Patton?” he murmured. He put a hand to his friend’s face, who flinched back minutely but otherwise didn’t respond.

Emile looked around, then sighed in relief. The cardboard box had handles, open holes in either end, low enough to the tabletop for Virgil and Patton to climb through. “There,” he said, pointing at one of them. “Get him out of here.”

“But you can’t—”

“I know. It’s fine.”

“Is it even safe? Are they coming back?”

Emile inhaled shakily. “I don’t know. All I know is something happened. I don’t know what. But Patton can’t stay in here. Stay behind the box, hide if you hear anything. Go on, get him out.”

Besides, if the humans did come back for the littles, then the box where a human had left them was the last place they wanted to be. But Emile wasn’t going to remind Virgil of that. It wouldn’t change the fact that Emile was stuck there.

Either way, Emile suspected that what was going on didn’t truly involve their small family. Logan had mentioned Roman—specifically, something called an asthma attack. Logan had mentioned before that Roman sometimes had difficulty breathing. Judging by that, and Logan’s reaction, an attack was just as bad as it sounded.

But they couldn’t do anything about that now. What they could do was help Patton.

Virgil hesitated, then slowly pulled at Patton, murmuring to him. Patton didn’t seem to hear, but passively allowed himself to be pulled along and lead out of the box. Virgil left one of his crutches behind, guiding Patton from a crouched position.

Emile waited alone in the dark and the quiet, only able to hope.

…

Patton was in a box.

A dark, dark box.

He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t be here, couldn’t be trapped, couldn’t be stuck in a box. Not again.

He couldn’t think.

He was aware of voices, of loud noises, but they were inaudible over the roaring in his ears.

He was trapped.

The humans had trapped him again.

No.

He was back in the past, back in that box under the bed, back to the days and weeks and months that blended together into one long haze of fear and pain and aching, aching loneliness. Back to the long nights spent curled up on the dirty cardboard, weak with hunger and thirst and waiting for it all to finally end. Both hoping that he would never be disturbed and hoping for something, anything to break the endless darkness.

“Patton? Patton!”

He blinked.

“Patton?”

Slowly, a face swam into view. He blinked again.

“Virgil?” he croaked.

“Patton,” Virgil whispered, relief evident in his voice. “You back with me?”

Patton slowly looked around. They were sitting on the tabletop, near the sewing supplies. It was still dark; but this time, it was clearly because it was nighttime, and not because of anything blocking out the light. The cardboard box was beside them, towering tall in the darkness, but they weren’t inside it. They weren’t trapped.

Virgil was watching him closely.

Patton’s eyes filled with tears.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice wobbling.

“Shhh, no, it’s okay,” Virgil whispered. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, I promise. Are you alright?”

Patton’s tears escaped to roll down his cheeks, and he ducked his head to hide his face.

…

They let Logan ride in the ambulance with Roman.

One of the EMTs seemed reluctant, since he and Roman were clearly not related, but soon relented. It was Christmas Eve, she was reminded; Roman clearly wanted him there; and Logan could give them information that his friend was currently unable to provide.

Once they were on their way, he handed over Roman’s inhaler to another EMT and explained the past week of difficulties Roman had been having, the aggravation his condition suffered in the cold weather, what he knew about what had happened to put his friend in the state he was in now, and what else he knew about his medical history—not much, he felt, but better than nothing.

Once that was finished, he fell silent, attempting to stay out of the way while the medical personnel did their jobs.

“This is expired.”

Logan glanced up, towards the EMT who had spoken. She was looking at the inhaler Logan had handed over.

“What?”

“It’s expired. By several months. Did he have a newer one he used?”

Logan glanced over at Roman, whose face was mostly covered by a mask. He didn’t seem to be listening, his attention understandably focused on breathing. “He… he should have. I remember him bringing home his prescription.”

Had Logan given Roman the wrong inhaler? Was it his fault things had gotten so dire? Or had Roman mixed up his inhalers, somehow, using the older, less effective one in place of a new prescription for who knew how long? Could they have prevented this?

It doesn’t matter, Logan told himself, his fingernails biting into his palms. Things were already dire when I found him. And if he’s been using expired medication, we can’t do anything about that now. All that matters is helping Roman.

The trip to the hospital took only a few minutes, but felt agonizingly slow.

The paramedics got out first, of course, bringing Roman with them on the gurney. Logan stepped out last, and he was pointed to the waiting room.

“We’ll let you know when you can see him.” She smiled awkwardly, probably trying to seem reassuring. “Happy holidays.”

Soon, he was alone in the waiting room, sitting in an uncomfortable chair and clutching a cheap cup of complimentary coffee. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting everything in a harsh light. The room was almost empty, only a handful of other people scattered about, none nearby.

Logan tapped a rhythmic pattern on the foam cup in his hands to soothe himself while he waited for news. He kept to himself as much as he could, not wanting to intrude on anyone else or be intruded upon himself.

At one point, though, there came one woman who was rather hard to ignore.

He had barely spared a glance in her direction as she came in, about half an hour after he arrived, leading her crying daughter by the hand. The daughter had been quickly given a lollipop to comfort her while the mother had checked them in, and they had settled down in some of the chairs, closer to Logan than he would have preferred; but not so close that he felt the need to move. Now, barely ten minutes later, he had to listen with annoyance as the woman stood at the counter and berated the woman at the desk for making her precious daughter wait.

Said daughter, a chubby girl with messy blonde pigtails, was happily sucking on her second lollipop and playing on her mother’s phone, to all appearances perfectly content as she was.

“Ma’am, your daughter—”

“Don’t you call me “ma’am”! I’m not some old lady!”

“Yes, sorry. Your daughter only sprained her finger, if that. She’ll be seen when we have time for minor complaints.”

“You don’t know that! What if it’s broken? What if it heals wrong? My daughter is injured, and you are making her wait in the hospital on Christmas Eve for hours on end! What kind of hospital is this? I want to speak with your manager! We ought to be seen for free, with everything you’re putting her through.”

The desk attendant sighed, looking done already. “Ma’am, it is 4 in the morning. I’m the only one working the front desk. The doctors are busy with other patients. Your daughter will be seen soon—just sit down. Everyone else is perfectly able to wait.”

The woman scoffed. “Come on, Marissa, sweetie. We’re going somewhere that actually cares about their patients.” She put out a manicured hand and took her daughter by the arm.

The lollipop fell from the girl’s mouth, the sticky red candy landing on the floor so that the stick stood up.

Logan groaned internally.

Marissa started wailing. She seemed far too old to throw such a temper tantrum, but Logan suspected that this was normal. She was screaming, the words incomprehensible.

The woman at the desk looked further annoyed, although she masked it better than most of the people in the room bothered to do. She finally got the pair to leave by handing over two new lollipops.

In their absence, it was quiet for a moment, before someone started humming a Christmas song, getting a quiet laugh out of their companion.

Logan looked back down at his coffee, which had grown cold.

He hoped Roman was okay.

The Lost Prince ch.3

Summary: The kingdom of Elan had once been at peace. It’s said that so long as the royal family lived the land would flourish with them on the throne. But when an unexpected enemy appeared and took the lives of the royal family many stopped believing in the legend. It was simply a ploy by a former ruler to discourage a coup. But some say that the new king sparred the young prince out of fear of the myth, and that one day the true heir would once again take the throne.

Chapter 1

Previous

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER SUMMARY: They have a plan... it may have been a bad plan.

WARNINGS: imprisonment, forcing someone to perform demeaning acts, injury of a main character, blood, let me know if there’s anything else

As the sun began to set Virgil and Janus huddled together away from the door. As much as they appreciated the open door earlier, while looking at the flora and fauna, it was now letting in the cool evening breeze. Neither dared speak aloud outside of the safety of their room which only made ignoring their growling stomachs harder.

They hadn’t eaten since the night before and they couldn’t exactly bring along the small food stash they kept for emergencies. Virgil was actually starting to miss the stale bread when a pair of robins suddenly flew through the door.

The birds each held a small branch covered in berries as they landed in front of him and Janus. Virgil slowly held his hand out and one of the robins hopped towards him to drop the berries in his palm. Janus did the same with the other bird. The two young men nodded in thanks before the two robins flew away again.

“Didn’t know they did that.” Janus murmured before eating one of the berries.

“Unless one of them could get us the keys I don’t think we’ve needed them to anyway.”

The berries hadn’t been near enough to fill the two up, but it did help to quiet their stomachs. It took some time but eventually the two were able to doze off.

-

King Saul flipped though the pages of the old book while he waited for the servant to get there and translate. He couldn’t read whatever language it was written in, but the illustrations provided some clues. Most of it seemed to have something to do with the royal family and fae.

“Your Majesty, the servant is here to translate.” He heard someone call from outside his tent.

“Send him in then.”

A few moments later the servant walked through the door. “Your Majesty,” he bowed.

”Here,” King Saul said as he passed over the book, “now tell me what I need to know.”

“Of course, your Majesty.”

The servant flipped to the right page and began to translate, “If a time may come when their majesties are unable to have a child of their own volition or-“

“I don’t care for those parts. Just tell me the steps and what we need.”

“Yes, Sir.” The servant said before starting again, “The current head of the family and intended heir must share blood... Any amount will do... They then must join hands at sunset... The family head must willingly pass the bond... And both must say the spell.” He summarized.

“So we prick fingers, hold hands, and say a spell. Sounds easy enough.” King Saul mused, “And the spell?”

“I believe it’s “pactum sanguis densior sit quam ex utero sumus participes per familia necessitudines ita et in terra” your Majesty.”

“If that’s all then you may leave.” King Saul told him as he took the book back.

The servant bowed once more before exiting the kings tent. King Saul managed to locate the words of the spell and proceeded to write them down.

-

‘Perhaps,’ He thought to himself, ‘if the false king were not so self centered he might have realized the differences between me and the man who had originally delivered the book.’

...

By the time the sun rose on the second day, Virgil and Janus were wide awake. When the soldiers not standing guard had started waking up it was hard to ignore. Especially when they started to cook breakfast.

“Bastards...” Janus mumbled, earning a small smile from Virgil, “They could’ve at least done it down wind.”

“Some people aren’t very considerate I’m afraid.” A voice told them.

Both young men jumped and instinctively tried to move away from whoever had spoken.

“Oops, didn’t mean to startle you.” A somewhat willowy man in servants clothing told them.

Janus and Virgil shared a cautious glance at each other as the man reached into the satchel at his side before revealing a small loaf of bread. “Here,” He said as he held it out to them, “you’re probably feeling half starved by now.”

The two shared another look before Janus slowly reached forward to take the bread, “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” He told them before whispering, “your Majesty.” He winked.

“... Who are you?” Janus asked cautiously.

“You can call me Emile.” He smiled, “And you two have more people on your side than you think.”

”What?” Virgil asked.

Emile’s only response was a finger to his lips and a wink before turning and walking away.

“Well,” Janus started, “that was...”

“Weird.” Virgil finished, “That was definitely weird, right?”

Janus nodded, “Probably.”

The two of them were wary of the bread at first, but whatever fears they may have had were gone after the first bite. They silently decided the taste was because they hadn’t had fresh bread in years. But neither could remember even the freshest bread tasting so sweet.

Neither mentioned it but both felt full and surprisingly invigorated despite the small amount of food.

...

Within a few hours the camp was packed up, the wagon door was closed, and the group was on the move once again.

The weather wasn’t unpleasant and they even seemed to be making good time. That is until a loud thudding sound broke the silence.

Virgil and Janus had let themselves relax as their minds wandered with the shifting of the wagon. It wasn’t until they were suddenly flung into one corner that they realized something had happened.

“Ah what the fuck?” Virgil hissed.

“Sorry,” Janus told him as he attempted to pull himself away, “You alright?”

“Yeah, you?”

“I’m fine. My landing was a bit softer than yours.”

“Oh ha ha.” Virgil deadpanned.

“What’s going on?!” Saul boomed from somewhere ahead of the wagon, “Why are we stopped?!”

“My apologies, your Majesty, but a wheel has fallen off of the prisoners wagon. It doesn’t appear to be damaged, but we’ll have to stop for a while to fix it.” Someone standing nearby said.

“Well hurry up then!”

Janus and Virgil barely managed to get themselves upright by the time the door was opened. “Don’t get any ideas.” The soldier said as he unlocked the metal door.

“Come on we don’t have all day.” He grumbled when the two hesitated.

They shared a somewhat baffled look before Virgil moved to leave the wagon. His feet had barely touched the ground before he was grabbed by the collar and flung to the side, “Hurry up.” The man spat.

“Virgil!” Janus called when his friend hit the ground.

“I’m good.” He told him as he moved to stand up again. He was halfway up when a different soldier appeared next to him and pulled him to his feet. “The ground isn’t nearly as hard as the floor.” Virgil said when Janus joined him. Janus gave a sad smile in agreement.

While several people worked to put the wheel back, Virgil and Janus took the opportunity to soak in the feeling of the ground beneath their feet. It was so soft! And squishy! Even their bed mat was nothing compared to how comfortable the ground felt.

The soldiers were nearly done when the King road over to them on a large grey stallion. “How much longer?” He asked them.

“Almost done, your Majesty. It should be ready in just a minute.” One of them answered.

Saul nodded before turning his attention to Janus and Virgil.

Janus hated the way he looked at them. Normally it was somewhere between happy that he had taken over the kingdom and pissed that he and Virgil still existed. But now there was a bit of greed there too. By some miracle it managed to make Janus hate him more.

Virgil wished he could wipe that smug look off of Saul’s face. Preferably with a chair. But unfortunately he was not that brave and not that stupid. Also he was severely lacking in the chair department at the moment.

“The wagon is fixed, your Majesty. We are ready to continue when you are.” One of the soldiers informed.

“Good. Throw these two back in and let’s move on.” The king ordered as he turned his horse.

“Wait!” Janus said before Saul could leave.

The King paused to look at him but didn’t respond.

“Please, before we go any farther let Virgil go.”

Saul smirked, “Why would I do that?”

“Please,” Janus begged, “you don’t need him. Let him go, and let him live. I promise I will transfer the magic.”

“Why should I believe that? Besides, that scullery rat is good collateral. Why would I risk letting him go while he’s still useful?”

“I swear I will do whatever you ask. Just let him go free. Please.”

Virgil was sure Saul wasn’t actually considering letting him go. There was nothing to gain after all. He just wanted to toy with Janus. As soon as he started getting bored he’d laugh in their faces and they’d be back in the damn wagon.

Honestly he wasn’t sure whether or not to be relieved by that. On one hand he couldn’t escape, but that meant he wouldn’t have to leave Janus.

Virgil was startled out of his thoughts when Saul dismounted and walked over to them.

“Prove it.”

Janus blinked. What?

“Kneel.” Saul told him.

Janus spared a glance at Virgil who shook his head.

Despite his friends opposition Janus took a breath and dropped to one knee before bowing his head. “Please, your Majesty.” He tried again, “Let him go.”

The King’s lips curled into a cruel grin, “Kiss my boot.” He told him.

“Janus no!”

“Silence!” Saul commanded.

“Janus, don’t. Please.” Virgil begged him.

Janus closed his eyes. He hated him. God he hated Saul. He could live forever and never hate anyone more. But his love for Virgil was worth more than that hate. And his life was worth more than Janus’s own pride.

“Please, your Majesty,” he forced as he shifted to both knees.

“Janus...”

“Let my friend go free.”

Virgil couldn’t bring himself to watch. He closed his eyes and turned his head away. But that didn’t prevent the hushed laughter of the soldiers from reaching his ears.

“Someone grab a rope.” Saul ordered, “I believe we may be able to work something out.”

Virgil tried to ignore everyone and everything around him as he opened his eyes. He kneeled next to Janus and tentatively reached to grab his arm. Janus didn’t look at him.

“You shouldn’t have done that. We would’ve been ok.” Virgil choked before pulling him closer in a poor excuse for a hug.

“Just make it.” Janus told him as he attempted to hug back, “Go find that useless knight of ours and don’t look back. Please, Virgil.”

Virgil clung to him tighter, “I can’t just leave you like that.”

“You can and you will.” Janus told him, “Promise me, Virge.”

He wanted to promise. He did. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t make that promise. He would stick to his plan and follow them. He couldn’t leave Janus behind. Not after everything.

“Please.” Janus begged.

But before Virgil even had a chance to reconsider he was pulled back by his hair. He attempted to cling to Janus, but was ripped away as if he hadn’t been holding on at all.

“Remove his chains and then tie him to a tree.” Saul ordered.

“What? No! Let him go! Please!” Janus yelled, “I did as you asked!”

“You did,” he agreed, “and I’m releasing him. Perhaps we can come back to check on him once we complete our little errand at the Delego.”

Janus watched as Virgil attempted to fight back against the soldiers trying to tie him up. All of a sudden he was eight-years old again. Being held too tightly by a man twice his size while his best friend fought tooth and nail just for the infinitesimal chance of escape. And once again he was too scared and too useless to do anything but cry and scream at the bad people to let him go.

The second the chains were off Virgil started swinging. He couldn’t let them tie him up. He wouldn’t stand a chance of helping Janus if that happened. He thrashed against the hands and ropes trying to get some sort of opening. He could vaguely hear Janus screaming something as the soldiers continued to close in on him with the rope.

Virgil sensed more than felt himself fall to the ground. He had to fight harder! They were gonna win and then they would take Janus away and he would never see him again.

He couldn’t move his arms anymore. His legs flailed harder, trying in vain to somehow prevent the inevitable. His legs were stuck now. Something was behind him- Wait something is by his face. He hears what sounds like a scream and his mouth fills with blood.

“Motherfucker!” The soldier who had attempted to gag him yelled when Virgil sunk his teeth into their hand. They quickly pulled their hand back and turned it into a fist.

“NO!” Janus screeched when Virgil’s head lolled to the side, “Virgil!”

“Little bastard.” The soldier spit on him as they clutched their injured hand.

“Remember your promise,” Saul said as Janus was pulled to his feet, “and then maybe we can come back and untie him.”

“You lying son of a bitch.” Janus spat.

He felt a blinding pain as the back of Saul’s hand landed against his face.

“We’ve wasted enough time.” Saul announced, “Let’s get moving.”

“Virgil!” Janus yelled as he was dragged back towards the wagon, “I’ll come back for you! I promise!”

The door was slammed shut and the wagon began to move.

~~~~~~NOTES~~~~~~

Good news: Virgil is no longer in immediate danger. Bad news: He’s unconscious and tied to a tree... Also Janus is still in immediate danger.

Y’all. I SWEAR there is going to be happier chapters. But we gotta get some of the bad stuff out of the way first. Next chapter might have some nice stuff but yeah. Don’t hold your breath for fluff.

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Another Sanders Sides Monster AU

Patton Canis

Patton was originally a human before he was bitten by a rabid dog.

Or at least he thought it was.

Now Patton be a werewolf.

He appears human normally but on a full moon he becomes a white wolf with bright blue eyes.

None of that stuff where you can see their werewolves in their human form. Makes Patton harder to hunt.

His hair is actually dog fur now though, it looks like human hair but feels like petting a dog.

Pat does like to be pat.

When he becomes a wolf he can only suggest doing things. Otherwise the wolf part is in full control. Begging does nothing.

Patton doesn’t tend to remember much during full moons but he does get dreams about being the wolf.

He’s extremely afraid of big dogs. He doesn’t mind small dogs though and will cuddle them.

One time when he was a werewolf the wolf actually communicated with a few dogs. Turns out dogs are by far smarter than humans.

Patton barely remembers it and couldn’t go into full detail about why they were.

He was coincidentally allergic to silver before being bitten. The silver adjustment wasn’t to bad.

Patton is now allergic to chocolate and grapes like a dog is. He mourns not being able to have real chocolate in his cookies.

In wolf form he did try dog food. Horrible but not as bad as you would think. It was mostly the aftertaste.

Patton can growl and do other dog noises if he chooses but can’t understand dogs in his human form.

So he doesn’t really do that.

Logan Silver

Logan died on October 19th, 2016.

Don’t ask him how he died. He goes quiet until the subject is changed.

He was risen from the dead as a zombie because yes.

Well that was the reason at first.

He later found out Emile summoned him on accident.

So Logan tried to live a normal ish life again. He was thankfully guided by Emile and Remy back to it.

It didn’t take much adjusting however due to dying only 3 years ago. Society hadn’t changed that much.

Logan has dead white eyes and is covered in stitches, otherwise he is pretty much like a normal human.

Oh and he can dismantle and regenerate himself. There’s that.

He will sometimes play fetch with Patton in his wolf form to keep him from running off and killing things. Fetch as in throwing his arm and Patton biting the crap out of it.

Logan is extremely smart and was originally an detective. When he died though he was lost to the world. Now he studies anatomy.

He often has to bandage wounds for everyone. He doesn’t mind.

Logan goes stargazing with all the sides frequently.

Roman Gryphon

Roman is a harpie who was raised by human parents after he was shot in the wing as a child.

Roman is terrified of the sound of fireworks due to this, he does like watching them with noise canceling headphones though.

His parents are both male because we need a dose of even more gayness.

It was really a coincidence that Roman ended up Bisexual.

Roman was homeschooled to prevent any further harm to him so he ended up creating a Discord server where he met people instead of meeting kids at a school.

The humans on the server didn’t believe he was a monster so he took a picture showing his wings and talons. There the other monsters DMed him, freaking out about how they weren’t the only ones.

He created another server specifically for the other monsters. There was only 8 members on there but still. They talked and stuff.

More on that later too.

Roman really wants to be an actor but is unable to pursue it due to his wings.

He just sticks to preforming in his prince outfit in his room. His favorite skit currently is playing Prince Neeven in The Princess and the Frog.

His favorite Disney movie is Aladdin though.

We don’t talk about the sequel though. He gets passionate about it.

Virgil Nimbus

Virgil has been around since the end of the Dark Ages.

He got bitten by a vampire and barely managed to escape with his life.

When his teeth and nails grew sharp he locked himself in a room held together by silver.

There he developed his powers for many centuries. He can become a wolf but besides changing his shape he can fly, regenerate, lift things three times his size, and another power to be mentioned later.

He has developed a way of feeding off of himself but it hurts tremendously as well as taking time.

He has to cut himself and let the blood drain off of him so his heart can replace the blood, and then drink the old blood. So yeah, not pleasant at all.

He would often go days without eating cause of this.

On his birthday (December 19th) of 2001 he was found and immediately killed all 10 of his rescuers out of hunger.

Seeing as how it was his first kills, it messed him up mentally.

His other power comes from feeding off of others. If he bites someone, as long as his fangs are in them, they feel calm and become unable to move. A lot like a spider.

Deceit found him curled on himself and they ended up getting into a fight because Virgil attacked him.

Deceit pinned him easily after he noticed Virgil was really small and weak.

Virgil ended up learning how the human language developed from Deceit as well as modern technology.

Virgil also learned only human like blood can feed him so he still uses his old methods.

He eventually met everyone on Romans discord server and he’s the only one who hasn’t seen the others face to face.

Vines are his favorite thing ever. He’s disappointed it died.

He’s actually the most up to date with memes despite being centuries old.

He has been “adopted” by Patton on Discord. He is surprising okay with this.

Deceit Malpolon

Deceit was born a naga. He has the lower half of a snake and an upper half of a human.

He is actually gender fluid and will bite you if you refuse to use his correct pronouns for the day.

Which would hurt cause he’s venomous.

He can also hypnotize people who stare into his eyes.

He was visiting Germany and came across Virgil. He was stow away and had a much harder time bringing Virgil back with him.

Thankfully he could speak fluent German and semi understand Virgil even if his speech was outdated.

He was hurt pretty badly a bit after the trip back. His hands were crippled for some time and he lost some scales around the left of his face.

This was by a hunter who was honestly stupid for wanting to hunt him. It was more of torture for Deceit.

Virgil did kill the hunter before he decided to shoot Deceit. Afterwards Deceit would attack any human that tried to get within a mile radius of where they lived.

Deceit is actually really protective of Virgil and hardly lets him leave the house alone. They only leave when Virgil goes out hunting really. Virgil doesn’t mind most of the time but it leads to complications.

Deceit won’t admit he gets separation anxiety.

Remus visits them every now and then but he’s not allowed near Virgil because he will eat Virgil as discovered.

Deceit is a pathological liar. He loves lying despite how much it seems wrong. He has to resist the temptation and it can get hard for him.

What he can’t control is the urge to chew everything. If he gets anxious or upset he has to clamp down on something.

His hands are full of bite marks and he has holes in all his sleeves. He has plastic shapes he should bite on but he doesn’t carry them around.

Another anxious habit is coiling around himself over and over until he manages to painfully knot himself.

Deceit owns little necklaces that have a tablet on them and give the days pronouns.

I’m calling Deceit a “he” for now cause I’m used to it and they can’t determine their gender out of the fic.

Remus

Oh no we reached Trash Goblin who isn’t actually a goblin.

That would be a funny alternative to what he actually is though. XD

He’s actually a wendigo in the skin of a human.

He kinda created his own body.

He started hanging around humans way to much and developed a personality besides whatever an “endless hunger” personality is.

He often chews on stuff to keep the edge off his hunger.

He owns dog chew toys and chews on those too. His favorite thing to chew on besides bones.

So he’s doing better than Dee.

Despite his... exhilarating personality... he’s actually very tactical. He picks humans to kill very carefully and waits until their guard is lowered, most of the time when their sleeping.

Though he wakes them up on “accident” so he can see the terror in their eyes.

Yeah he’s a sadist.

That’s pretty much expected.

He was on the Discord server once and people immediately assumed he was Romans brother. Now it’s a huge joke because Roman hates it.

Remus is aro despite his sexual remarks.

He also eats small rodents for the heck of it.

One time he presented Logan the head of someone and Remus immediately claimed him as his favorite when Logan asked if he could keep it.

Remus hasn’t tried to eat Roman or Logan but has attempted eating Patton and Virgil. If he met Remy or Emile he would most certainly try to eat them.

He only goes after the more human like ones.

Emile Picanii

Emile is around 26 and is a trans male.

Emile is a couples therapist as usual but has taken up trying to do therapy for the monsters.

He has a spell book that he can use to make magic. That’s how he summoned Logan.

Most of the time he keeps it tucked away in his jacket but rarely he will use it on patients discreetly.

He still asks for their permission but does it in a way he doesn’t sound like he’s asking.

So far his spells haven’t backfired except for the Logan incident.

Emile is on the Discord server and has his own channel to help the monsters on.

He has actually gotten Roman and Patton to come to a live therapy session that turned more into a hang out.

Logan has had a therapy session in voice chat but nothing more. Virgil has text ones while Remus and Remy don’t do any.

Emile tries to convince Remus to at least but he declines.

Emile got into cartoons from Roman because Emiles parents didn’t allow him to watch cartoons.

So now Emile has a Stich onesie among many other things Disney, SU, and anime.

However just because of all this doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his downs. He sometimes has depressive days and overworks himself often.

Thankfully he has a therapist as well because he can’t recommend seeing a therapist without taking his advice.

He’s getting a lot better too!

He has naturally pink hair for some reason. He likes to dye it streaks of blue to match.

Remy

Remy is a sleep paralysis demon. He gives people nightmares that lead to sleep paralysis.

He doesn’t exactly care tooooo much but occasionally gives sleep paralysis to people when he’s not sleeping or drinking coffee.

He can enter dreams if he wishes to but doesn’t really do that.

His eyes are light sensitive so he typically wears sun glasses.

He also has narcolepsy and people tend to fall asleep around him. It’s a weird thing where nobody can stay awake.

He still tries to be awake though.

His coffee is always from Starbucks with the seasonal flavors or caramel.

(I’m really tired writing this so that’s funny.)

Remy is a part of the server but already knows who each person is.

Remy owns an black barn owl named Roast, a reference to coffee.

He met Emile before any of this and grew to be good friends with him.

They drink Starbucks together and ‘gossip’ (Emile doesn’t really gossip but they talk about celebrities and stuff)

So this is the monster AU for Halloween! Will probably write something with these bois. Happy Halloween!

(Also I tried to make the last names unique from the typical ones okay bye)

the harder the rain, the sweeter the sun: chapter seven

-o-

first

previous

-o-

chapter seven: the bedroom 

Days later, Roman walked around his area of the garden, pulling the last of the weeds. The sun beat down on him that day, sweat pouring from his brow. Roman hated it, he hated feeling sticky, and dirty, and just...disgusting, but he was thankfully done with his chores. 

He winced as he twisted to the side too fast and pulled his healing wound, but it didn’t bleed, so he tried ignoring it. Roman walked to the other side of the cottage to wash up his face and hands in the river, but then he saw Diego.

The merperson sat on the shore of the river, his golden tail shining in the sunlight with the dark blacks near the end of it swirling in the water. 

Diego’s hair was wet, like he’d just pulled himself out of the water, and his dark curls lay messy on his head. Scales ran down his sides and arms, a contrast to his copper skin. He was absolutely beautiful, and Roman was absolutely mortified when Diego turned around and saw his staring.

Diego's face flushed bright red, and he squawked in indignation. Roman spluttered out an apology, “Oh goodness, I am sorry! I was just about to rinse off and I-”

Roman was cut off by Diego throwing his arm up and a wave of water throwing itself onto Roman. Roman spluttered as Diego glared at him, and the merperson hissed, “Rinsed off enough?” Before slipping back into the water and disappearing.

--

Later, Roman laid on the floor in Virgil’s room, Virgil himself sprawled out on his bed. Roman had been complaining over Diego for five minutes and Virgil was starting to get bored. The room was extremely hot, warmth seeping into their skin and sweat pouring out of it. Roman wiped his forehead, making a sound of disgust as the slick sweat on it after.

“And then he poured water all over me! Emile wouldn’t even let me inside until I dried off.”

Virgil snorted, “Yeah, that’s just like Emile.”

Roman groaned, laying his forearm over his face, “I just don’t get him, Virgil. He hates me.”

Virgil rolled over, his head poking over the edge of his bed to look at Roman, “Ugh, you’re boring,” He said with a grin, “Do you want to go help me bug Diego then?”

Roman looked at Roman from under his arm, “I already told you he hates me, I’m not going to make it even worse.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “No, he doesn’t, you two are just dramatic.”

Raising his eyebrows, Roman sat up, eye to eye with Virgil, and he counted out of his fingers, “He hasn’t even attempted to talk to me except from when Remy literally forced him to, every time he meets my eyes, he glares at me, he ignores anything I try to say to him, and he literally soaked me in water without tried to hear my reasoning or my apology! What else can I do?”

Virgil gnawed on his lip, “Look, I’ve known Dee for years now, he’s a little difficult to figure out when you meet him, but I feel like the two of you could be friends soon. Just, when there's no one else around, try talking to him. When you’ve tried talking to him before, was there anyone else around?”

Roman thought for a moment, tilting his head to the side, “Possibly, but I don’t see-”

“He probably just felt cornered, he already dislikes humans, so that's understandable.”

Roman groaned, falling back down on the ground, “Why does he hate humans so much? I never even did anything to him!”

Virgil winced, laying onto his back and staring at the ceiling, “It’s not my story to tell, but I don’t think it’s anything personal towards you.”

Roman rolled onto his stomach, looking up at the bed, “Why don't you hate humans then?”

Virgil sighed, “Well, I try not to hate most things. I hate the idea of humans and how the majority of them treat us, but I don’t hate, like, an individual without having a reason. Diego’s just been treated not the best by quite a few, so I think he sees all of them like that.”

Roman hummed, a few seconds passing in a comfortable silence before he sat up and asked, “Had you ever met a human before me?”

Virgil winced, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck, “I mean...yeah, but it’s not a good story.”

“What’d you mean?”

“Well,” Virgil settled himself, sitting cross-legged with his elbows on his knees as he looked at Roman, “I’m a dragon.”

Roman’s eyebrows raised, before falling in confusion, “Well, I know you can turn into one, but how are-”

“Dragons are shapeshifters,” Virgil ran his fingers through his hair awkwardly, “We can shift to full dragon to a human form, but I’ll always have my ears,” He motioned to them, tracing their sharp point, “Eyes,” He pulled on his lower eye with a grin, showing off his bright green eyes, “And marks,” He dragged his pointer fingers down his cheeks, mimicking the pattern the black marks on his cheeks followed, “In both forms. Most people see dragons in our, ya know, dragon form, but the way we’ve survived so long is by going into our human form to escape.”

Roman nodded, still a bit confused, “How does this relate to meeting a human?”

Virgil pursed his lips, “Well, when I was like ten, I was stolen from my family by human hunters who planned on skinning me and selling the parts.”

Roman choked on nothing because just how casually Virgil said the fact, “What?”

He shrugged, his shoulders tense, “I shifted to human after I was captured and managed to escape, but when I had gone to my home, my family had moved on without me, “ Virgil’s voice turned bitter, “They didn’t even try waiting a few days. They just left because they were scared of being taken too.”

Virgil looked harshly at Roman, “The humans stole me but my parents abandoned me. I don’t like humans because they try to kill my people and treat us like trash, but you were kind and you didn’t ever try to hurt any of us. So, I trust you. Diego doesn’t see that.”

Roman nodded silently, and a few seconds passed in silence before Virgil sighed, launching himself backwards into his bed, laying back with his hands behind his head. Roman perched his head on the edge of Virgil’s bed, “Wait, so does that mean you can have wings?”

Virgil shoved at Roman’s face, pushing him off the bed, “Shut up. And no, only in my dragon form, which I don't really love going into when I don't have to, it’s a hassle, ya know?’

“I literally have no way of relating to that statement, Virgil.”

The two laughed in the dark-grey room, and Roman stood up afterwards, “Well, I’ll try talking to Diego more tonight, okay?”

“Thanks, I know you won’t regret it. Just don’t be a dick.”

Roman looked appalled, “I am never a d-that word!”

Virgil cocked an eyebrow, “You sure, human boy?”

Virgil cackled at Roman’s expression but then squealed in surprise as his pillow was thrown into his face, knocking him onto the floor, where he continued to laugh even as Roman huffed out of the room.

-o-

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A Gift From Me To You - Chapter 8

Chapter Summary: Virgil works up the courage.

Warnings: Descriptions of bullying even though none is actually occurring, violence mention (though again, not occurring), anxiety attack and general anxious thoughts (this is Virgil after all).

A/N: Just the epilogue left to go!!!! I wrote 75% of this chapter all in one morning and honestly thank god I had cause I would not have been able to get it done otherwise, hahah. Honestly, thank you all so much for reading this fic. It’s been both a joy and a disaster at times, but I’m just so glad people are enjoying it.

AO3 Link //  Link to Chapter One! //  And Two! // And Three! // And Four! // And Five! // And Six! // And Seven!

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Virgil wandered the hall in an aimless haze. He had a free period last that day and it would be so easy just to go home early like he usually did, leave all this worry for another day, but something was stopping him. Virgil knew he wouldn’t get another chance like this for a week.

He knew where Roman was. And he had an excuse to be there.

Roman shared his last class with Remy—classics, because they’re both geeks, even if neither of them would ever admit it—and they frequently offer Virgil a ride home since he was too anxious to ever get his license. It wouldn’t really be that weird for Virgil to hang around outside the classroom under the guise of asking Remy for a ride and then…

Virgil exhaled sharply.

Then what? Just… go up and talk to him? Roman had never spoken to him before the hallway collision—it was unlikely he would know his name or even recognise him—why in the world would Roman want to talk to him? What if Virgil went up to him and he scowled in disgust? Or laughed in his face? What if he did recognise him and he demanded Virgil repay him somehow for knocking him over in the hallway? What if he got all his friends to force him to the ground and-

Virgil forcibly cut off his train of thought, counting through his quickening breaths. His hands went to tear at his hair but he stopped them halfway, bunching them up in the fabric of his hoodie instead.

Roman had no reason to do those things. Roman had never done those things before, and he had no reason to start now. Roman did not seem upset by Virgil running into him.

Roman was a nice person.

Or at least, for the first time, Virgil hoped he was.

Despite his insistent worries, Remy and Patton’s words were still echoing in his head, strengthening what little resolve he had. It wasn’t fair to keep things like this from his soulmate, no matter how much he wished he could.

He had a choice here, but he knew he had to at least make an effort. He had to try.

He was going to try.

Virgil marched his way down the corridor towards the classics room, hearing the bell echo through the halls as he approached. Kids rushed out of the classroom, pushing and shoving their way out the doors in a desperate attempt to escape and Virgil had to fight to not get swept away with the tide.

“Virge!”

Remy’s voice cut through the crowds of people and Virgil managed to force his way over to greet them, giving a nod to their knowing look.

“He’s still in the classroom. Hasn’t left yet,” Remy smirked, taking a sip of their coffee—and Virgil wasn’t exactly sure where they’d gotten that; the one from this morning must be cold by now—“Want me to introduce you? …Again?”

Virgil laughed but he knew Remy could tell he was losing more and more of his bravado the longer they both stood there. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

Remy grabbed his arm, dragging him into the classroom and Virgil actually felt his heart skip a beat when he caught sight of Roman. He was alone, which Virgil was thankful for. He leant against the edge of his desk as he saw them approach, cutting himself off mid-laugh and hurrying to put away his cellphone.

“Roman,” Remy announced, pulling Virgil to their side in front of him. Virgil had to remind himself to breathe because locking eyes with Roman was overwhelming and more than a little terrifying. “This is my friend Virgil. He has something he needs to talk to you about.”

Roman raised his eyebrows, nodding his head slowly. “Right, okay.”

Virgil cringed into himself, pulling at the sleeves of his hoodie again and ducking his head slightly. He felt a steady hand land on his shoulder and looked up to meet Remy’s gaze.

“Oh, V, you need a ride?”

The posed question seemed casual but Virgil knew it was anything but. This was Remy's way of asking whether he was good to do this alone or whether they needed to hang out with comfort and chocolate in case things went wrong. Virgil gave a small smile; he had such a good best friend.

He placed his hand on top of theirs for a brief moment, tapping his fingers against the back of their hand before pulling back. “Uh, could you maybe wait for like 10 minutes and I’ll let you know?”

“No prob, hon. I’d be happy to,” Remy smiled. It was a genuine one, void of its usual playful nature and filled instead with compassion. It wasn't a smile many got to see—pretty much just himself and Emile—so Roman should count himself lucky.

With one last squeeze of Virgil's shoulder, Remy pulled away, disappearing out the door with a subtle wink.

There was a long moment where neither of them said anything, Virgil fidgeting and averting his eyes and Roman watching him with what Virgil thought was a curious gaze. He hoped it was only curious anyway. He didn’t think too much about it—if he let his mind run away with all the possibilities of what else it could be, Virgil would never work up the courage to say anything.

“Hi…?”

At the words, Virgil looked up, taking in the comforting smile that had graced Roman's face. He tried to ignore the way it made him feel to have that smile directed at him, biting at the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing nervously.

“Uh, hey,” Virgil replied.

Roman's eyes narrowed for a brief moment, before returning to his regular expression. He glanced around the classroom awkwardly. Virgil realised Roman was waiting for him to say something but it was like he'd suddenly forgotten every word he'd ever learnt; he was sure that if he opened his mouth to speak it would have a disastrous outcome.

Clearly given up on waiting, Roman cleared his throat.

“Are you feeling better? You know, after the whole—” Roman waved his hand about generally—“bathroom thing.”

Virgil flushed bright red, panic seizing his chest and crushing all the confidence he had left.

Had Patton spoken to Roman about what Virgil had been freaking out over? Did Roman know that Virgil had his soulmark and hadn’t said anything because he didn't want him? Was he just humouring him now? Giving him hope before shooting him down?

At least this answered the question of whether or not Roman had remembered him, though he honestly wasn’t sure if this was the better of the two outcomes.

The fear must have been obvious on Virgil's face because Roman rushed to assuage him. “Oh! No! Patton didn't tell me what upset you, just that you were upset! He wouldn't do something like that, I swear.”

At the mention of Roman's boyfriend, Virgil felt a spike of guilt shoot through him, but he managed a tight smile nonetheless.

He felt like such an asshole. He was essentially telling someone, “The universe decided your relationship isn’t good enough and instead said you’re destined to spend the rest of your life with me! Someone you’ve spoken to a grand total of one time!”. Yes, Patton may have been the one who'd urged him to go ahead with this in the first place, but he still couldn’t help but feel like he was ruining everything.

Roman tilted his head as he watched Virgil compose himself, studying him, not necessarily unkindly, but still in a way that made Virgil feel vaguely uncomfortable. It was just a little too open for his liking and Virgil drew his hoodie tighter around his body.

“Um, if you don’t mind me asking, what was it that upset you so? It-” Roman scrunched up his face for a moment. “I just feel I made things worse somehow.”

“No!” Virgil yelled, before hesitating. He didn’t want to lie, but there was also no reason for Roman to feel guilt over Virgil’s own shortcomings—him being upset was certainly not his fault, even if he did technically make things worse. “Well, I mean, not… intentionally. Look, it’s complicated.”

Roman shoved himself back so he was sitting on his desk with his legs hanging off the side, swinging back-and-forth. “Well, I’ve got time. If you’re willing to tell me.”

“That was kinda the whole point of coming in the first place,” Virgil muttered under his breath.

Roman furrowed his brow. “What?”

“Nothing. Look, um… I was up… late, last night and something… happened… to me. And I heard—and I guess saw—that it… um, might have happened to you too?”

Okay, that was possibly the least descriptive Virgil had ever been in his life. He winced, pulling his eyes up from the floor to meet Roman’s confused gaze.

“I have no idea what you are talking about right now.”

Virgil deflated. Oh, what the hell. This whole carefully-explaining-every-aspect-of-what-led-you-here thing was agonising, he might as well just get to the point. Band-aid method. He could do this.

Virgil pulled his sleeve back, revealing his soulmark to the cool air of the room. He watched Roman’s eyes widen as his gaze traced over the skin, taking in the sight before him, and Virgil was sure he’d never felt more exposed in his life.

“This,” he admitted finally. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for sharp words and denials.

But it didn’t happen.

Virgil cracked his eyes open a fraction, watching as Roman stood up from his desk and made his way over towards him. His motions were careful and deliberate as if he was afraid Virgil might run away if he moved too quickly—something he may not be entirely wrong about.

Reaching a point directly in front of him, Roman went to grab Virgil’s wrist and Virgil made no move to stop him. The emotion in his eyes was difficult for Virgil to place, Roman trailing his thumb along the mark, outlining thin borders and bright colours. He could feel his skin tingle at the contact and he tried his best to not let out a sigh. The hard part may be over, but they weren’t done yet.

A quiet, “Oh,” filled the air and that’s all Virgil was able to process before he was being dragged out the door of the classroom.

Shit.

Virgil’s mind immediately kicked into overdrive.

Roman hated him. Roman didn’t believe him. Roman was most definitely going to take him outside to where his friends would be waiting and they’d all laugh at the loser who faked his soulmark to get with his high school crush or worse they’d push him up against the brick wall and scrape his skin along it until he was raw and bleeding they would hurt him they would hurt him he’s in danger he’s in danger he’s in danger-

“This is Virgil.”

Roman’s voice cut through Virgil’s panic and he managed to open his eyes—and when did he close them?—enough to see the silhouettes of two people standing in a semi-circle in front of him. He didn’t recognise them, the sun too bright and his fear too large for him to process anything outside of they were people and they weren’t Remy.

As much as he could right now, Virgil readied himself for mocking words or harsh shoving.

But it didn’t happen.

Instead, he heard a voice say, “Roman! He’s having an anxiety attack!”

The voice sounded familiar but Virgil wasn’t really focusing on that right now because he knew with every fibre in his being that he had to get out of here. He had to find Remy. He had to go home. He couldn’t do this anymore, he couldn’t.

There was the sound of overlapping voices, apologies from Roman and chastisement from one of the others, but Virgil tried to focus on the voice directly in front of him. He could hear reassurances break through the arguing of the other two and although he wanted Remy or his mother or someone familiar, Virgil settled for this.

“You’re not in danger, Virgil,” The voice said softly, “No one’s going to hurt you. You’re safe, you’re alive and you’re okay. You’re okay, honey. It’s okay, I promise. Nothing bad is gonna happen.”

Virgil listened to the voice mutter on as he slowly opened his eyes. He still kept his gaze firmly directed to the ground though, avoiding the harsh or judging stares he was expecting to see. The voice may seem kind, but Virgil knew better than to make any assumption on its character based on that—lots of people he’d met had seemed nice at first, before they’d gotten to know him.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Everything is okay.” The voice seemed to have a happier note to it now, something brighter, though Virgil didn’t necessarily understand why. “Am I allowed to touch you?”

Virgil thought back to the way Roman had traced over his soulmark, how his skin had prickled and heated at the contact and how he wasn’t sure if he could handle that again right now. He shook his head quickly.

The voice didn’t seem discouraged by that, continuing its whispering until Virgil could finally take a deep breath, look up, and lose all of it again.

Patton.

Of course, it was Patton. Virgil knew this was coming, he knew he’d have to face Patton and let him know that he was the one in the bathroom stall and he was the one who’s boyfriend had the same soulmark as the boy in the bathroom stall, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to do it right now.

Patton's eyes were kind as he recognised Virgil slip back under another wave of panic. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s alright. I promise you, it’s alright.”

And he looked so sincere that Virgil let himself believe it for a second.

He looked around himself properly, taking in the sight of Roman and Logan, who were still arguing. Patton spun around and glared at them for a moment before loudly clearing his throat, causing the two of them to freeze mid-sentence and look over at them.

“Roman,” Patton said, very reminiscent of a disapproving parent, “I think you have someone to apologise to?”

Roman’s reaction was immediate. He rushed his way over to Virgil, dropping to his knees in front of him, much to Virgil’s dismay. He didn’t really need an apology. It wasn’t Roman’s fault that Virgil freaked out, it was just how things were sometimes.

“I am so, so sorry that I didn’t pay enough attention to how you were feeling, my dear. I only hope you can forgive me.”

Virgil winced at the endearment coming out of Roman’s mouth. It sounded so natural—Virgil having heard it a dozen times directed to Patton and even a few jokingly directed to Logan—but at the same time, they’d barely discussed their relationship. Virgil wasn’t sure pet names were a step they’d reached yet.

“Don’t sweat it, Princey, it’s no big deal,” Virgil mumbled, “And do-”

Virgil was interrupted by a gasp from Patton, his eyes wide as he flung his hands up to his mouth in shock. “Anxiety?! Oh my goodness, I’m so proud of you!”

Virgil blinked.

“Proud of me?” he asked incredulously, “Patton, I essentially just told you I’ve had a crush on your boyfriend for years and you’re telling me that you’re proud of me? How can you be so happy about this?!”

“Oh, kiddo…” The look on Patton’s face was pitying, like he knew something Virgil didn’t, but it didn’t last long.

Patton drew the sleeve of his jumper back, revealing a bouquet of daisy-like flowers sitting right there on his wrist. Virgil froze, taking that in for a second, but was startled by Patton elbowing Logan in the side.

Logan scowled at him. “Alright, alright.”

He reached to pull back the sleeve of his button up and… They matched. They all matched.

“Oh.”

It wasn't love at first sight, because that doesn't exist. It wasn't as if Virgil saw the soulmarks on Patton and Logan's wrists and suddenly he realised he'd had feelings for them the whole time because he didn't. He respected them, it would even be fair to say he liked them from a distance, but he didn't feel the same way for them as he did for Roman—and even that he knew, wasn't really love.

But that was all okay.

Because now Virgil could imagine it.

What Virgil felt now wasn't love, but potential. He could imagine movie nights, curled up on the couch, bickering and snuggling and loving each other just the same. He could imagine Roman coming home from work and collapsing directly onto Logan, much to his loud protests, with Patton puttering around the kitchen making dinner. He could imagine date nights with Patton and Roman dragging him and Logan by the hand because "we've been waiting to see this new Disney movie forever".

He could imagine looking up one day—seeing Logan and Patton maneuver around each other as Patton made pancakes and Logan attempted to pour more coffee out of an empty pot, seeing Roman burst in through the door singing his good mornings—and realising he was in love.

He wasn't right now, but that was okay.

Because he could be.

Roman turned his head sharply to look between Patton and Virgil, the expression on his face half disbelieving and half cocky. “Wait, I’m sorry, did you say years?”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, “Since the musical in our second year.”

Roman snapped his fingers and pointed at him, a bright smile on his face. “Oh! I knew you looked familiar! Virgil Moore, right? You ran backstage for a couple of my scenes! You did such a good job!”

Virgil bit his lip, feeling a bit taken aback. He hadn’t actually expected Roman to remember his involvement—it was such a different time.

The musical felt like decades ago, back when his moms weren’t even together yet and Remy was still going by he/him pronouns. So much had changed since then. He had changed so much since then and he wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted Roman remembering the way he had tripped and knocked over half of the set the same way Virgil did basically every time he closed his eyes to go to sleep.

“Uh, yeah-”

Logan interrupted his stuttering acknowledgement. “You are also situated behind me and slightly to the left in our shared chemistry class.”

He blinked. He’d be honest, he wasn’t really expecting some of the most popular people in the school to recognise who he was in almost any capacity. And, woah, his soulmates were some of the most popular people in the school. Virgil shut that train of thought down immediately.

“I, uh, didn’t think you’d noticed me,” he admitted.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Why would I not have? You’re an incredibly competent individual, even if that friend of yours seems to have a hugely negative influence on your ability to actually pay attention to the lesson.”

Virgil didn’t even have time to process the compliment as at the reminder of his best friend, he blanched.

“Oh, shit! Remy! Can I…?” He gestured with his hand over to the parking lot. Patton must have realised they were waiting for him, despite not being there to witness the conversation, as he gave a bright smile.

“We’ll wait for you here,” he answered, “I can drive us all back to Roman’s after. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Powerwalking his way over towards the parking lot, Virgil spotted Remy’s car stationed towards the front, eclipsed by the shade of the building. He pulled the door open and threw himself into the passenger seat, watching as Remy jumped so high they almost hit their head on the roof of the car.

“Jesus, fuck, Virge, you scared the everloving shit out of me!” they exclaimed, breathless.

Virgil just grinned, unable to hold back now that the reality of the situation was finally sinking in. He had 3 soulmates. They liked him. Holy shit, they actually liked him.

He had a future with them—a future where he didn’t have to worry about overstaying his welcome or overstating his importance, a future where he was accepted and loved for the person he was, a future where he truly was good enough.

There was still a voice in the back of his mind telling him it was too good to be true, but Virgil pushed it back. He wasn’t going to let any more anxiety ruin this day for him.

He could feel himself tearing up slightly as he spoke. “They’re all my soulmates, Rem. Roman, Logan and Patton. All of them.”

Remy’s eyes widened as they turned in their seat to face him. “Oh, holy shit, gurl! You hit the jackpot!”

Virgil laughed—he knew it sounded slightly hysterical but he was mostly past the point of caring.

“Yeah, I, uh-” He cut himself off with another laugh, launching himself across the middle of the car to wrap his arms around Remy’s shoulders. It was kind of uncomfortable but Virgil wasn’t focused on that, trying instead to somehow form a coherent thought among all of the chaos that filled his mind.

“Thank you.”

Remy shook their head, pulling back to look at him properly and it was so similar to that day all those years ago—Remy looking him firmly in the eyes and telling him everything his emotional mess of a self needed to hear.

“There’s no need to thank me, V. I might have given you a little push, but actually working up the courage to tell them? That was all you. You did it.”

Virgil beamed and he was definitely crying and it was so stupid but he was so happy.

“I did it.”

He took a moment to get himself together, trying to stop the tears that continued to make their way out, clinging to his eyelashes and dropping onto his shirt. Eventually, he managed to calm down enough to breathe properly again, giving Remy a small smile which they returned effortlessly.

“So, am I driving you home?” they asked, swinging their keys around their finger.

Virgil shook his head. “Nah, Patton said he’s gonna take us back to Roman’s so we can work some stuff out. But… thank you for staying.”

“Anytime, hon.”

Virgil took a steadying breath as he stepped out of the car, preparing himself to head back to his soulmates. Before he closed the door, however, Virgil leant down and poked his head in one last time.

“Remy?” They looked up from where they were inserting in their keys to glance over at him. “You are the best best friend that I could have ever had. And you might not be my soulmate, but you mean just as much to me as they do. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, V,” Remy smiled, “I love you too.”

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Epilogue

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Tag list: @bunny222​ @jadedfantasies231​ @221b-quote​ @reinefandoms​ @i-really-dig-the-purple​ @bionic-egypt​ @not-so-innocent-bi-sander​ @mistress-jinx09​ @soijusthavetoask​ @marshmallow-the-panda​ @the-writersblock​ @theunoriginaldaisy​ @therubyjailcell​ @sandersfandersblog​ @hghrules​ @that-smol-tired-gay​ @sanders-sides-stuff​ @inan-sanders​ @frogdog145​ @follow-pheonix-inside​ @forestwulf​ @coloursintheblur​ @cosmic-melodies​

General tag list: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard <3

Of Magic and Houses

*waves hands mysteriously* Me and my terrible fic naming was never hereee.

Summary: Hogwarts AU- Patton, Roman, and Logan all get sorted into their houses- Patton and Roman meet a mysterious boy in the corridors late at night- and Roman makes a new friend.

Ships: ...There may be a lovely, blatant, hint of Remile (...it. It just kinda happened....) ...Otherwise, nope, just friendship building.

Warnings: Pat’s a lonely little child without his twin and Logan and Virgil are anxious beans. Tell me if anything needs tagging.

Words: 3475

They had always assumed they would be sorted in the same house.

Not that the Sanders twins had ever sat down and talked about which one they would end up in. Maybe Patton assumed that, like their older brother Thomas, they would end up in Hufflepuff. It was the family house. Maybe Roman thought Gryffindor fit them better and never brought it up.

Somewhere, Patton decides, they forgot to talk about it. He was so ready for his brother to follow him right under the yellow and black banner that he audibly gasped when the hat loudly announced “Gryffindor!” Even Roman seemed surprised for a moment. His gaze instantly met Patton’s.

Now, they didn’t have a psychic link, not at all. That was a magical ability they did not possess. They did, however, know each other very well. It was easy to read each other’s faces. Patton felt a pang of loss settle in his stomach when his brother gave him a glance that was so many things. Of course, Roman was excited about being in Gryffindor. It was a house with a reputation, after all.

Patton felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder, his older sibling was smiling gently at him, a touch of concern in his eyes. He broke into a trademark smile and watched the rest of the kids get sorted to various houses.

Logan rung his hands, eyes darting back and forth over the tables. The hat on his head hummed in consideration.

“Although,” it hummed in consideration, “Perhaps Slytherin is a better fit.”

Logan glanced towards the green and silver banner, the last one the hat could consider placing him under. “Slytherin is built on ambition and dedication. A sly wit and cunning nature. The house would surely help you build a name for yourself.”

The 12-year-old furrowed his brow and glanced back up at the hat. Each house had been painted in a pleasant enough light, given a fair chance. Perhaps, it was an attempt to seal in the idea he would belong in any of the houses. Logan let out a small huff under his breath. It wanted him to choose.

“Oh, you’re quick.” The hat laughed.

Logan simply sighs at the remark. “I’m assuming you’ve come to the conclusion of-”

“RAVENCLAW!” The hat announced. Logan rolled his eyes; the Sorting Hat sure had a thing for theatrics.

Logan walked to the blue-themed house and settled under the banner with a cheer of student’s he didn’t know swarming over him. He suppressed a flinch and tried his best to seclude himself to the edge of the table. Part of him supposed he should be happy about the warm welcome, but it felt hollow. A cheer for the house and gaining another member, rather than the member himself.

His mother would complain he was being too cynical. ‘Give them a chance’ she would coon, and peck a kiss against his forehead. If anything, an unbiased view of the world was his goal. It simplified things. Made life easier to swallow. After all, nothing was black and white. ‘I’ll give them a chance when I know more.’ would be the retort on his tongue. Even if he never said the words aloud. Ravenclaw simply fit him. The more you know, the better you could control your world.

“Hello, First Years!” the head boy announced to the table, “Do you, how do?”

Patton smiled brightly as the rest of the table either giggled or groaned, a few answers were thrown into the mix as well.

He smiled, “Wonderful! My name is Emile Picani, you are welcome to address me as Emile or Picani, whichever giggles your gut!” Emile beamed at the small crowd of youths that barely came up to his chest in height, “I am your adviser, confidant, and, hopefully, a friend! So, please feel welcome to ask me anything and everything!”

“Ok!” another head-boy’s voice boomed, walking backward. “Miniaturized humans! If you would follow me, my name’s Remy Melatin, my initials spell R-E-M and if you knew more about science you’d be laughing right now! And, no, my middle name is not for display, I’m aware of how much you all enjoy finding out the secrets of others!” The Slytherin head-boy turned around as he led his collection of first years, giving Emile a wide smile.

Patton watched the exuberant Head-boy before looking up at Emile, who was giving Remy a fairly stern look.

Remy leaned in closer to Emile and winked, “Enjoy me while I’m hot, girl.”

Patton tilted his head as Emile turned his attention back to his first years, lips pursed tight.

“Excuse me, Emile?”

“Yes- um Pattini?” Emile said, glancing down at the first year.

“Patton.” He corrected.

Emile looked him over, “I swear it was Pattini but I suppose I could be wrong. Yes, what was it?”

“I was just… wondering what Remy meant. And why’d he call you girl?”

Emile’s eyes widened, and he glanced up, seeming to search for someone. “I would suggest you leave such inquiries to your elder brother,” He said, his voice lowered into a more conversational tone, “As for the term ‘girl’… I believe Remy enjoys employing it’s use gender neutrally.”

Patton nodded, “Do you like being called girl?”

“Between you and me?” Emile let out a breath with a small smile, “Occasionally.”

“Okay!” Patton said, “Tell me when you do.”

Emile smiled a little wider and glanced back up at the group, “Alright! Follow me! Let me show you why we’ve got the best house in the house!” Emile announced, laughing to himself.

The boys in his room were nice. Brian, Gaius, and August. See, he already knew their names! That’s a feat! But, with August snoring and Brian babbling in his sleep, Patton was still wide awake. Patton stared at the ceiling. Which was much different from staring at the wood under Roman’s half of the bunk. Very different.

He sat up.

Emile had reinforced the fact that they weren’t allowed out of the dormitories after lights-out. Thomas had even reminded him. Thomas would only remind him if that meant he thought he would go out and do it, and he would only usually break the rules if Roman was there insisting that the rule was dumb (they usually were, but, maybe that’s a bias he’s started to hold in retrospect). Patton bit his lip, glancing over the other boys in his room. This was definitely a dumb rule.

He missed his twin, ok? He really, really, missed him. It didn’t help they hadn’t had much of a chance to meet up because they were being carted around by the prefects of their houses. He could probably find the Gryffindor dormitory without trouble. He chewed on his lower lip more. A breath escaped his lips and he was standing up, bare feet landing softly on the floor.

There was a constant scream in the back of his mind. You’ll get caught, you’re breaking the rules, on your first day no less, you’re already breaking the rules, you’ll get caught. He clung to his new wand like he usually clung to his brother’s sleeve when the mantras of trouble rang in his head. The darkness of the whole place at night almost made him turn back. Yet he stepped bravely forward, weaving his way through the castle, hyper-aware of every creak and moan.

Patton froze when he heard footsteps. His eyes darted from one end of the hall to the other. The footsteps burst into a run and Patton yelped as a figure practically lunged at him. Instead of being eaten alive or worse, he was being hugged. It was a very familiar hug. He curled his arms around the familiar warmth of his twin, nestling his head in the crook of his shoulder. The pair squeezed each other tight for a long while.

Roman pulled back to arm’s length and smiled at him, “I was going to go to Hufflepuff. I almost thought you were the caretaker!”

“I was going to Gryffindor. And I thought you were going to eat me!” Patton squeaked.

Roman giggled, and nipped Patton’s nose with his hand, “Nom-nom. Nummy Little Hufflepuff.”

Patton squirmed in a half-hearted attempt to rid himself of his twin’s attack on his face, giggling as he did so, “Stop it. Stop! We’re not 5.”

Roman let out an exaggerated sigh and pouted, “Fine.” The smile quickly returned to his face, however, “It’s funny we both decided to sneak out though. I thought you’d be too scared.”

Patton shoved his sibling in mock offense. He never did ‘offended’ as well as Roman could, however, and they began to walk somewhat aimlessly through the dark corridors.

They talked for what felt like hours. About new friends (Roman apparently was aided by his new Gryffindor roommates, Nate, Apollo and ‘Pranks’). Complaining about the rules they found weird and annoying. About how to get into each other’s houses. Really anything they could find to inform the other twin about.

In their stroll through the corridors, their quiet chatter ceased when Roman halted. “Did you hear that?”

“We are getting close to Hufflepuff and the kitchens,” Patton muttered.

“No, it sounded like footsteps. That way,” Roman insisted, pointing towards the hall just past the kitchen’s entry.

Patton frowned, “Ro,” he warned his brother, who was already inching closer towards the sound.

“Pat.”

Patton bounced on his heels before groaning and following after his twin, worming his hands around his arm. “I hate you.”

Roman smirked and bumped Patton with his elbow, “Love ya too.”

As they walked nearer, Patton pulled out his wand, seeing a swish of dark fabric darting behind a corner. Patton glanced at Roman, who appeared wandless. They didn’t know many spells, just ones they’d heard around the house. But Patton had practiced the motions and sounds of Lumos enough that he should be able to use it. He was mostly scared of two things- spiders, and the dark. He’d almost gotten over the dark, but, right now felt like a time for light to shower over them. He clung closer to Roman as his twin dared closer to where he’d seen the figure dart behind.

“What are you doing out of bed?”

Patton squeaked. The caretaker wasn’t looking at them however, the light was flooding down the corridor they were inching toward. A swear echoed through the corridor, and whoever the cloaked figure was turned the corridor and blindly turned and collided with the twins. They scrambled to a stand and the boy looked between them before back towards the rapidly approaching light. Patton took both his brother’s and this new boy’s hands and pulled them down the corridor, he scrambled to a halt and tapped frantically onto a barrel causing the lid to swing open. He ushered the boys in and followed after.

They collapsed into each other upon entering and the door shut behind them. Patton fell onto the ground to catch his breath and glanced up at Roman and the mystery boy, whose hood had fallen off. Patton pointed at the boy, “Who’re you?”

The boy’s eyes widened behind the curtain of black bangs, and roughly put his hood back on, “Nobody.” he whispered harshly, moving back towards the door, “How do I get out? I need out.”

“Why?” Roman asked.

He turned sharply towards the two, “Just let me get out!”

“It’s just a door,” Patton said, “You open it... You know, if you need food I have some in my room,” Patton said quietly.

Roman and the boy looked down at Patton and he smiled, “My name’s Patton, that’s my evil twin Roman,” his twin let out one of his many offended sounds. Patton shuffled to a stand and held out his hand, “I’m sorry we scared you.”

The boy lowered his hood again and slowly took Patton’s hand, “Um.” He twisted his eyes shut muttering something sounding vaguely like: ‘like a bandaid’, before he breathed out, “mynameisvirgil.”

Patton smiled, “Nice to meet you, Virgil.”

“Your common room is definitely the easiest to get into,” Roman said softly, looking around the room.

Patton rolled his eyes, “You say that now.” Patton smiled at the cloaked boy, “Com’on Virgil, my bunk-buddies seem the type to be hard sleepers, they won’t mind the extra friend.”

Roman lounged in Patton’s bed as his sibling watched Virgil nibble on his stash of food.

“How’d you even sneak all that in without Thomas noticing?” Roman murmured.

Patton simply leaned back to give a wide grin to his sibling.

“You’re a cunning little badger,” Roman whispered, eyes narrowed.

“Hey, Virge, which house do you belong to?” Patton asked, tilting his head.

Virgil stiffened and eyeing him with suspicion. “Don’t have one.”

“Nonsense, everyone has a house!” Roman declared. One of Patton’s roommates mumbled to themselves and Roman let out an uneasy giggle.

“Well, I don’t,” Virgil grumbled.

“Why not?” Patton asked, tilting his head gently. “It’s okay. We won’t tell.”

Virgil rubbed the back of his head before sighing, “I snuck onto the train… I’m not- supposed to be here.”

Roman and Patton glanced at each other, but, seeing Virgil’s face, silently agreed to keep their questions to themselves.

The light of morning filtered into the dormitory and Patton squinted out the light, the chatter of boys filling the room. Gaius was humming to himself while Brian and August talked over each other.

Patton leaned up and quirked a brow. No Roman, no Virgil. Later in the day, he met back with Roman. Roman who did not have a Virgil trailing behind him or near him.

“Where’s our new friend?” Patton asked, tilting his head gently.

Roman shrugged, “I went back to my dormitory and he said he knew a spot he could go to sleep.”

“He doesn’t have a dormitory Roman!”

“I know,” he huffed, “It wasn’t like I could force him to stay in your dorm or come with me to mine. He doesn’t want to be caught.”

“Well, he’s gonna get caught if he’s sleeping in some random classroom or something! Did he tell you where he went?”

Roman deadpanned and Patton groaned, “Fine, fine, he’ll probably head back to the kitchens tonight, hopefully before curfew, and we can talk to him.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Roman said simply. He hummed, “If only I could recreate an invisibility cloak.”

Patton breathed out a sigh, “Like that’ll happen.”

“But it exists, it has to be re-creatable! I bet I could make it be even better! Maybe it’s some special thread? You can knit, we can have the knitted Blanket of Invisibility. Useful and soft!”

“Oh boy,” Patton muttered with a smile as Roman continued his tangent on his personal invisibility cloak idea.

Roman was examining the library, picking every book he found interesting off the shelf. He carried the stack, which was nearly reached over his eyes, to a table, and set them down. Plopping himself down, he collected his quill and paper and began jotting down the titles.

“Might I suggest the Monster Book of Monsters while you’re at it?”

Roman yelped and looked up at the boy who was smiling at him. He did a once over of the boy- most likely his year, Ravenclaw from the blue tie (who wears the tie outside of class?), glasses (was he farsighted or nearsighted?), and an aura of just- nerdiness.

“Uh, what’s it about?” Roman muttered.

“Magical creatures, obviously. Specifically, the ones often considered more dangerous. It was a very- interactive book.”

“Mon-ster Book of Monst-ers,” Roman mumbled as he scribbled the name down.

The Ravenclaw leaned over to look at his parchment. “Why, if I may I ask- are you writing down the titles when you already picked them out?”

“Can’t read ‘em all in a day, can I?” Roman leaned back, looking at his stack, “I’m gonna know as much as I can as fast as I can. Get ahead of the ball before I’m crushed by it.”

The boy snorted and covered his smile, shaking his head. “Okay. So you just want to remember which ones interested you for when you return.”

Roman nodded, and extended his hand, “I’m Roman.”

“Logan. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“So Mr. Logan,” Roman said, folding his arms, “Why are you taking refuge in the library?”

Logan stiffened, “Refuge?”

Roman gave a concerned look to the boy, “Sorry, I just meant- you don’t have a book.” he said, gesturing to Logan’s empty hands.

A sigh seemed to shake out all the tension in his shoulders, “I just haven’t found one yet.”

“So you’re a picky reader,” Roman said with a smirk.

Logan breathed out a smile. “Maybe.”

They chatted easily after that. It felt impossible to run out of conversation. Especially when Logan pointed out another book Roman had in his pile and asked why he planned on reading it. By the time they needed to go back to classes, Roman hadn’t a chance to even begin a book.

Logan walked alongside Roman as they made their way to their classes.

“Which class is next on your schedule anyway?”

“Oh, um,” Roman rummaged through his pockets, folding out a piece of paper, “Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

Logan straightened, “Me too,” he said, peering over to look at the paper, “It seems we have class together.”

Roman smiled brightly, “Great! I already have a friend to cheat off of.”

Logan looked scandalized for a moment, but the goofy smile on Roman’s face made him break into laughter. Roman smiled as his new friend laughed, punctuated with snorts as he did his best to compose himself.

Roman had quickly learned that whatever Logan’s laugh was, it wasn’t a full on laugh. He could get Patton to laugh in 10 seconds, Thomas would laugh so hard he usually doubled over. Logan. Did. Not. Laugh. So many good jokes. Wasted! Roman was close to calling him The-Boy-Who-Never-Laughs. Sure was it a leap from the fact he hadn’t heard his new friend laugh like this from the few hours he had known him? Probably. Did that mean he was wrong? Nope. Not in his mind at least.

“You’re insufferable,” Logan said, his smile crooked when he finally uncovered his face.

“Excuse you,” Roman placed his hands on his hips and jutted his chin out, “I’m spectacular!”

“Point proven,” Logan said simply, rolling his eyes before continuing his walk to class.

Roman paced in front of the Hufflepuff commons as night began to fall. A tap on his shoulder made Roman scream before he turned to look at Patton. His shoulders relaxed and he groaned, “What is all that?”

Patton frowned as his bag was pointed at accusingly, “Goodie bag?” Patton opened the bag, rummaging through it, “I’ve got food, the extra toothbrush Mum had me pack -I can get another new toothbrush over Christmas break-”

“She didn't make me pack two.”

“Do you have one?” Patton said, eyes darting up to his sibling.

“Yess?” Roman said slowly.

Patton let out a suspicious hum before returning to his bag, “Pillow, blanket, an extra set of clothes, a jumper-”

“You’re going to mother this kid to death,” Roman said, peering over his brother’s head into the bag himself.

“I’m gonna dad-ify this kid to life!” Patton corrected.

Roman shook his head and shoved his sibling, “Ok padre Patton, what next?”

“Wait?” Patton muttered slowly.

“Cool, I can tell you about my new friend then,” Roman said, taking an apple from Patton’s goodie bag and leaning against the wall. Patton snatched back the apple with a stern frown and Roman gasped loudly.

It was the feeling of another presence that woke Roman up. Patton’s snores were soft in his ear and his right arm was turned into pins and needles from his brother leaning on him.

He opened his eyes to Virgil hovering over them.

“Hey Storm Cloud,” Roman said softly, yawning as he shoved his twin off of him.

Virgil raised a brow, “Storm Cloud?” he echoed.

“Would you rather one of the other nicknames I came up with?” Roman said with a gentle smirk of a smile.

Virgil shook his head and glanced at Patton who had fallen back onto Roman’s shoulder, “Why are you guys out here?” Virgil whispered.

“We assumed you’d be here before the caretaker would be.”

Virgil puffed the dark hairs out of his eyes. It settled stubbornly back in front of his eyes. “Let me repeat myself. Why?”

“Checkin if you’re ‘kay,” Patton grumbled sleepily.

“I’m fine. I can handle myself,” Virgil folded his arms, “Why are you two so nosey.”

“We’re your friends now, Dark and Gloomy, get used to it.”

Virgil gave a sideways smile before sitting down in front of the twins as Patton stretched and wordlessly scooted the bag over towards Virgil.

OK AAAAAH. I’ve been sitting on this one for a while.....

Hogwarts AU:

@under-the-blue-moonlight @strangerclown @4amanxiety @beetlequail @nottodaylogic

Gen Tag (because none of you complained so. YEAH):

@famders-positivity-blog @teacupfulofstarshine @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @punsterterry @i-will-physically-fight-you @youreacherry-blossom @i-really-dig-the-purple

Back to the Basics (Part 3)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 (Final Part)

Warning: This is a Thomas Sanders/Virgil Sanders romantic fic so if you don’t like that then please skip over this story and have a wonderful day!

Summary: Basically just some mutual pining between my favorite sunshine boy and emo side with some fluff thrown in for flavor. Featuring Thomas attempting to court a selectively oblivious Virgil and the other sides being ‘helpful’ to said courting process.  

I’m back again, to my own surprise! I usually never get things done this quickly. Not much to say except I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Virgil tries not to think too much about Thomas' first real date.

He had been an utter mess. Anxiety over what to wear, where to go, how to act, what if he got stood up (like anyone would ever stand Thomas up, you'd have to be completely brainless) all swirled within Virgil's already troubled mind.

He and Princey had never butted heads more, and that was saying something. The romantic side was furious with him for making Thomas doubt his love. He was fairly certain the creative side already had wedding invites made up and everything. Over the years, he's occasionally wondered if Roman has wedding invites for all of Thomas' relationship and what he does with them when it's over. He's never had the nerve to ask. Princey could get rather touchy over Thomas' failed loves.

Even his friendship (he used the term loosely, it was certainly the closest thing he had at the time) with Morality was strained as the side was forced (not for the first or the last time) to choose between him and the prince.

He'd mostly tried to stay away. Morality, though a bit (unintentionally Virgil is sure) condescending, is the only side that's consistently nice to him so he didn't want to cause him extra stress. Besides, Creativity would only use it to cause more drama. Best to let the father figure stick with the prince, at least for now.

Not to mention he didn't want to bring down the cheerful side's excitement and optimism. He was very enthusiastic about this new type of love for Thomas.

On the bright side, he'd managed to form a tentative bond with Logic who is staying far away from all the romance. They didn't really talk or anything, but Logic had taken to allowing Virgil to sit in his room to avoid Roman bugging him, and he'd even let Virgil help him on a few of his large puzzles. It was rather calming to the anxious side and he really appreciated especially at such a hectic time for him. He hoped Logic knew that.

Still, there was one thing that no amount of calming could help. The new feeling the clawed at Virgil's chest and made him feel extra uneasy. Virgil's a smart trait, so it doesn't take him too long to identify the feeling though he wants to deny it.

Jealousy.

He should have expected this of course. It was a no-brainer that he would be envious of anyone who got to spend time alone with Thomas, most especially in a romantic way. At the same time though, he could feel the nervous excitement coursing through Thomas and...well how could Virgil be mad at something that was making the person he loved happy?

It was a rough internal conflict between his desire for Thomas to be happy and his own selfish dream to be the one that makes him happy. Needless to say, it was not helping his anxiety whatsoever.

Virgil turns on his loudest music and tries to ignore the feelings coming from Thomas, staying just alert enough so he'd know if Thomas was in any danger.

The date goes well, though Virgil isn't sure exactly how he feels about that. Morality gives him a fresh batch of cookies that afternoon and says he's proud of how Virgil backed off during Thomas' date. Under Morality's fond gaze he guiltily nibbled on a warm cookie, the sweet taste soured by him thinking just how undeserving he is of the father figure's pride. He knew the only reason he backed off was because his heart hurt at Thomas with someone else, but he could never tell the moral side, or anyone else for that matter, the truth. So he accepted the pride, sharing the cookies with the parental side.

The relationship doesn't last very long. It ends amicably enough, though Thomas is still sad when it's over. Virgil hates seeing his host sad...but there's a part of him deep down that feels relief that he's single again. he tries with all his might to get rid of it but it won't go away. He's happy at Thomas' pain, it's something he never thought would, or even could possibly happen.

Virgil hates himself even more than usual.

   It's been a fairly normal day in the mindscape (well normal for them at least, he doubted they were ever normal by everyone else's standards) and it was rounding on dinner time and Virgil was heading downstairs. Patton did not take kindly to anyone being late to dinner (apparently dinner is  famILY time).

It had been about a week since the failed (though wonderful) movie night and Virgil has barely slept since. He almost wanted to go up and ask Thomas if he could lay with him, even just for a few minutes. Honestly, knowing the kindness of his host, he'd probably say he was fine with it, but that didn't stop him from being anxious. Because what if Thomas was just saying that because he pitied Virgil but he really thought it was creepy and then he secretly started to resent Virgil and then he wouldn't ever want to spend time with Virgil and then-

Virgil's spiral of thoughts was cut off by the sight of the subject of said thoughts rustling around in the kitchen. "What are you up to?" Thomas whirled around with a look of surprise.

"What are you doing here?" The host asked back, with a breathy, nervous laugh. Virgil raised an eyebrow. "Here? In the mindscape? Where I live? Hmmmm....let me think." He put a mock thoughtful look on his face. Thomas rolled his eyes and gave Virgil a good natured shove with a smile.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm cooking." The YouTuber looked around at the already messy kitchen. "I'm going to cook." He corrected with a sheepish grin. "Well I suppose if you start a fire here you can just put it out with a thought so no one will get hurt. Good thinking." He compliments. Thomas looks like he wants to say something, then sighs. "Thanks Virge." Virgil nods in acknowledgement.

"I'm surprised Patton let you in, he's usually pretty territorial over dinner time." Thomas shrugs at his comment. "He's out with Emile on a double date with Roman and Logan." The host informs, though suspiciously, he doesn't meet Virgil's eyes which narrow in response to this. "Are you hiding something from me Sanders?" Virgil's voice drops and octave and has a slight growl to it. Thomas looks at him and surprise and shakes his head emphatically. "Nope. Not trying to hide anything from you Virge." Virgil was still suspicious, but it didn't seem like Thomas was lying to him.

But that didn't mean he wasn't angling the truth.

Virgil stared at Thomas for another minute before deciding to let it go...for now. "Sorry." Thomas gives him a beautiful smile. "No worries Virgil." Thomas gives him a hug from the side that doesn't last nearly as long as he would like it to.

He turns to head put of the room before hesitating. He turns back to Thomas. “Do you want some help?” He asks, not particularly interested in cooking but always interested in spending extra time with Thomas. He feels irritatingly and unnecessarily nervous over Thomas’ answer. As Thomas turns to answer him he knocks a bag over spilling flour all over the floor. “That…..might be a good idea.”

About two hours later, the two had something resembling the pictures in the cookbook made and the mess in the kitchen cleaned up.  They sat at the table (well Thomas did, Virgil sat on the table in front of Thomas since Patton wasn’t here to stop him) and began to eat.

Conversation flowed surprisingly easily between the two, shifting from upcoming events in Thomas’ life, to the videos that were in the planning stage, to cartoons, to the others. Thomas had also been asking Virgil some personal questions, which confused the trait a bit. He answered them anyway, but couldn’t help the suspicion growing in his stomach. He tried to squish it down. He always made such a big deal out of everything. Thomas was just making conversation.

They finished their food and had just sat talking for a while when Thomas suddenly shot up. “Oh, I almost forgot.” The host goes over to the freezer and gets out two bowls of ice cream and a bunch of toppings including candies, chocolate fudge, caramel, and spray whipped cream. “Dessert!” Virgil can’t help but smile at the bright exclamation as he takes his bowl and grabs the chocolate fudge.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit much?” Thomas asks as Virgil drowns his ice cream in chocolaty goodness. He shakes his head instantly. “Never enough chocolate.” He informs the host solemnly. Thomas chuckles at him as he shakes up the whipped cream. “Okay, Virgil. But when you have a stomach ache later, I’m not going to feel bad for you.” Virgil very maturely sticks his tongue out at the host who promptly spray it with the whipped cream in his hand.

Except the bottle freaks out and whipped cream gets all over his face and neck. His eyes had automatically closed as he registered the incoming attack and he keeps them tightly shut as he takes a deep breath. “What. Have. You. Done?” He asks, using his ‘scary voice’ as Princey likes to call it.

Thomas does not look scared. He looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh.

“Nooooooothing.” The YouTuber replies, hiding the spray bottle behind his back, letting a few giggles escape as he does so. Virgil gives him the best intimidating glare he can muster while covered in whipped cream. More giggles are the only response he gets and damn it he can feel the his lips pulling up into a smile at the sound. Why does Thomas have to be so adorable?

“After all I have done for you, this is what I get in return.” Virgil’s can’t maintain his scary voice as his smile grows bigger entirely against his will. “Come on Virge, it’s not so bad.” Virgil froze as Thomas’ left hand came up to cup his cheek. “It’s just a little sugar.” Thomas insists, warm brown eyes looking directly into Virgil’s and setting off all kinds of alarms in the anxious side’s head.

Thomas drags his fingertips across Virgil skin as he pulls his hand back leaving his face scorching with heat where their skin had been connected. Thomas brings his fingers up to his lips and licks off the sugary cream that had remained on them.

Virgil is pretty sure he hears sirens blaring in his head and a loud voice that sounds vaguely like Roman’s screaming “YOU ARE ONE HUNDRED PERCENT TOO GAY RIGHT NOW! GET OUT OF HERE!”

He jumps to his feet, knocking over his chair as he does so. “You know what; I probably will get a stomach ache if I eat that. I should go.” Thomas frowns instantly, clearly upset. Virgil’s heart twinges at the sight. “I was just kidding Virgil, I’m sorry.” Thomas gets up and runs some water on a nearby dishtowel before holding it out to Virgil with an apologetic smile masking hurt that Virgil can still see and it hurts him so much.

But one look at those smiling lips, still stained with a little cream, and he knows he’ll do something he regrets if he stays he much longer. He takes the towel, trying to ignore how his fingers brush against Thomas’. “It’s not that Thomas I just…I haven’t been sleeping well and I’m feeling really tired is all.” He didn’t want to tell Thomas about his sleeping issue but it seemed like the best option right now. The last thing he wanted was for the host to think Virgil didn’t want to spend time with him. He shudders at the idea of going back to the times where he rarely got to interact with Thomas outside of the videos.

“Oh, alright. Is there anything I can do to help?” And isn’t that a loaded question? There are so many things he wants to say. Love me. Come lay with me. Just give me a hug. But he forces his mouth to give the answer he truly doesn’t want to. “No, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” Thomas raises an eyebrow with an already worried look. “That’s rich coming from you.” Virgil rolls his eyes as casually as he can. “Haham very funny. Goodnight Thomas.” He hastens to leave before he can do or say anything he won’t be able to take back.

“Night Virge! Sweet dreams!” Thomas’ lovely voice echoes after him as he drags the towel over his still hot face.

  Thomas stands watching after Virgil for a while before turning to slowly clean up the mess on the table.

He’s not sure exactly why Virgil had freaked out so much but can’t help the sinking in his heart. Everything had been going so well, or at least he thought so. So close, but yet so very far. Furthermore, Virgil had actually admitted to having trouble sleeping so that was another thing he was going to have to worry about, not that he wasn’t already worried.

He finishes cleaning up in the mindpalace kitchen (yes he knows he could probably do it with just a thought but it kept him busy while he was thinking), and after some internal debate, he decides to check in on Virgil before he heads back up to the real world, hoping to find the anxious side actually sleeping.

He walks quietly through the mindscape until he arrives at the door he knows leads to Virgil’s bedroom. As silently as possible, he opens it just a crack. He is relieved to see the side actually appears to be sleeping, but his relief quickly disappears as his ears register the distressed noises coming from the bed in front of him.

Virgil’s body is fidgeting on the bed and he looks so far from the peaceful rest Thomas had seen him in during their movie night.  He is glued to the spot, watching upset as his anxiety suffers, unsure of what to do. “Thomas.” He hears his name and his focus sharpens, wondering if Virgil has woken up but he is still deep in his fretful sleep. “Thomas.” He hears his name again, Virgil’s tone clearly frightened.

Unable to watch anymore, and hoping he doesn’t mess things up even further he enters the room and sits down on the edge of the bed. He reaches a hand out to cup Virgil’s cheek much like he had earlier. “It’s okay Virge. I’m right here, you’re safe.” He speaks softly to the sleeping side. Virgil’s distress doesn’t seem to edge off at all, and at another frantic call of his name, Thomas feels helpless and frustrate. Then he thinks of something.

“I’ve always aimed to protect you…”

He tries again. “It’s okay Virge. I’m right here. I’m safe. You’re keeping me safe. Just like you always do. Like you always have. Even when I was too blind to realize it. I’m safe Virgil. I’m safe.” To Thomas’ immense relief, Virgil seems to calm down a bit, his face automatically leaning into Thomas’ hand causing the YouTuber to smile brightly.

He sat at Virgil’s side for a while, whispering words of comfort. He wanted to stay all night, but he was afraid of what Virgil’s reaction would be if he did. The night had already ended rather strangely. He takes a risk and presses a feather light kiss to the anxious trait’s forehead before heading back out of the room, shutting the door with a soft click behind him.

He rises up back into his corporal form, lying on his bed in his day clothes. He thinks back on the evening as he changes and gets ready for bed. While it had been quite fun cooking with Virgil (though that hadn’t exactly been his original plan and it was probably slightly less romantic than cooking for him), and the dinner itself was quite nice, with him even getting to learn a bit more about the person he was pursuing a relationship with, it hadn’t been completely ideal as Thomas would have wanted. But he is not convinced that all hope is lost quite yet. Maybe he should just go back to his original idea.

After all, you can’t go wrong with a little good old fashioned flirting, can you?

Prompt: Kidnapping

Pain.

That was the first thing she became aware of as she began to wake. Bellona groaned, wincing at the throbbing waves of pain going through her face. Even doing that made it hurt. Expressing in general.

The murmur of voices drew her further out of unconsciousness. It was dark. And she had to blink her eyes a few times to adjust. It looked like she was in the back of some sort of wagon. The faint scent of spices and chocobo hung in the air.

Dazed, Bellona tried to stand only to find her wrists bound. A twinge of panic rose within her. She struggled to free herself, rope biting painfully into her skin the more she fought.

No no no…

This wasn’t happening.

Her mind was hazy but slowly her memory came back to her. The people who captured her.

She hadn’t known who they were at first. Or why they were hunting her. It had been days ago when she first noticed these strangers stalking her. Following her in Hawker’s Alley. Eyeing her from a table tucked away in a dark corner of the Quicksand.

They weren’t Eorzean. She had heard them speak. Their accents gave them away as foreigners. Northern accents. From somewhere in Ilsabard.

What they had wanted with her, she didn’t know. She wasn’t sure if she should have told anyone about them. She wasn’t sure how threatening these individuals were or if they were harassing anyone else.

They seemed only interested in her…

And she probably should have told someone. D’jahv or Vurrelle. A Yellow Jacket or Brass Blade on duty. The Scions even. Perhaps she wouldn’t be in this mess right now.

Bellona gnawed at the rope, desperately attempting to chew it off. Though, that seemed to hurt even more. She let out a frustrated cry through bared teeth.

“Help!” She groggily called. Though she doubted there was anyone around to aide her. “Please, someone!”

Her voice sounded weak and muffled against the wagon walls. Screaming her throat raw would do nothing to get her out of this situation.

New plan: she needed to escape herself.

The wagon certainly didn’t feel like it was moving. Perhaps, if she could find a way to get the door open she could make a run for it? Find somewhere safe and get help?

You don’t know where you are.

It didn’t matter. Better than being stuck in here. Better than wherever her captors planned on taking her.

But first she needed to get that wagon door open. Attract her captors’ attention somehow. Then the moment it opened; she’d make a run for it. If anyone hindered her escape, she’d fight them to the best of her ability. She’d kick and bite and push. Make them regret ever capturing such a feral woman.

Suddenly she heard voices close by. Right outside the wagon.

“She’s making too much noise.” Grumbled one voice. Female. “Someone is going to hear her. I told you we should have done something about her mouth.”

“I thought she’d be out for longer.” Came a man’s snappy reply.

Bellona tensed, ready to act.

“Listen…She’s quiet now. Maybe she already gave up?”

“I don’t want to take any chances, Emile. You either make sure she stays quiet until we at least get to Ilsabard. Or I will.”

“Alright…alright…”

The sound of a latch coming undone. A sliver of sunlight.

Bellona launched forward, crashing against the door and sending it flying open. There came two shouts of alarm as she bolted out of her prison.

Bright sunlight nearly blinded her. Squinting against the brightness, the woman broke into a run. Her eyes would readjust while she got away.

Trees everywhere. She was in some kind of woodland. The Shroud? It was no part of the Shroud she was familiar with though.

She paused by a tree, ducking behind it while she took a moment to get her bearings. The Shroud wasn’t a place she liked to venture into often. Hunting never took her too far from the city.

A shot rang out and the bark beside her head exploded. Bellona hissed a cursed and threw herself to the ground to avoid any more fire. Another shot came seconds after, sending wood flying from the tree she had taken shelter behind.

“Are you bleedin’ insane? You want that Garlean bastard to have our heads for killing his daughter?!”

“I wasn’t shootin’ to kill…”

“Well I’m quite sure the man won’t be paying us if we bring the girl back maimed.”

“Why weren’t her swiving legs bound?! I told you—”

She heard her pursuers bicker with each other. They were close—perhaps only yalms away. Panic had her frozen on the ground and trembling. Too frightened to move lest one of them attempted to shoot again.

But she couldn’t stay there either. They’d catch her.

Had she heard that right? Her father had sent these people? If she would not return home of her own will, then it seemed she’d be forced to return…

Who were they? Lawless mercenaries? Conscripts desperate for citizenship and hoping by aiding an imperial lord they’d be granted it?

She didn’t care. She wasn’t going anywhere with them. Not even if it were her father who commanded them.

Heart thudding, she waited a moment to listen for footfalls. They’d stopped arguing. She couldn’t hear anything…

It didn’t matter. The time to move was now!

Bellona sprang to her feet and ran. Somewhere behind her, she heard the shouts of her pursuers. The woman didn’t dare steal a glance over her shoulder.

Of course. She should have known better to think that Atticus would be the only to come after her. Should have known better to think that her parents wouldn’t take action themselves.

You ran away from home. Did you really think they’d just sit down and do nothing about it? Especially since word about her actions had already reached Garlemald. Gods only knew what they must be thinking right now.

She shook her head. Just keep running.

Keep running…Right. She didn’t even know where to run! Drunk on adrenaline and trying to shake the people chasing her, Bellona had no bearings in the Gridanian woodland. Everywhere she turned looked the same. Every step felt like she was only going further into the forest and straying away from any settlements. Away from any help.

It was a dizzying maze of trees and brush. Everything felt like it was getting closer together, the canopy of leaves above grew thicker; it was getting darker. Bellona wasn’t sure if she should be more worried about being caught or becoming lost…

Blindly she ran, ignoring leaves slapping her in the face and thorns catching skin and clothing. Not even pausing when she stumbled over a root or stone in her path. Her eyes darted everywhere, looking for signs of haven. A camp. A road she could follow somewhere.

She couldn’t run forever. Her legs were beginning to tire—her chest beginning to ache. Surely by now, her pursuers have lost track of her?

Bellona spared a glance behind her. Nothing but the sight of trees clustered in the shadows.

Safe…For now at least.

She came to a stop, allowing herself an uneasy rest. Scanning the trees while she caught her breath. Ready to bolt at the slightest movement.

“Fuck…” She panted.

At the sudden sound of a twig snapping, Bellona looked around. Tensed, her heart fluttered anxiously within her chest. Her gaze darted about. She could hardly see anything in the thick copse.

She made ready to bolt again. But she couldn’t run forever. She’d need a place to hide—somewhere to hunker down until she could get back to the city.

More movement. Brush rustling grew louder as it drew closer…

Abruptly a squirrel burst from the bushes. The small creature paused to clean its face and then glance at Bellona. With a head tilt and twitch of its tail it went scampering off as quickly as it had come.

She heaved a loud sigh and relaxed. Safe…for now. Still couldn’t let her guard down though.

How many of them were there? The most Bellona ever noticed was four together. Two of them were currently hunting her. Which meant there were two—or more—others somewhere out there she stilled needed to worry about.

“Fuck!” She exclaimed.

How was she going to get out of this mess? She couldn’t ask for help. These people were her problem. The thought of dragging anyone else into this mess left her feeling ill. She didn’t want anyone getting hurt trying to shelter her. People were capable of doing vile things if there was money involved. Vile things she didn’t want to see happening to anyone she cared about.

How she hated her luck.

Closing her eyes, she leaned against a tree. What was she to do now? Wander through the Shroud until she stumbled across a poacher’s camp? Hope they’d be hospitable enough to offer her haven for the night?

Another twig snapped somewhere in the distance.

Her ears perked. Another squirrel? Or…

She looked around, slowly stepping back. Something was moving out there. Something much bigger than a squirrel.

Had they found her again that quickly?

Movement through the copse, undeniably something much bigger than a squirrel. Moving closer to her…

And then it suddenly stopped. Quiet settled over the woodland. An uncomfortably heavy kind…

From behind a hand clamped around her arm and whirled her around. Bellona met the grinning face of one of her hunters.

“Found you.” The Roegadyn woman grinned, her grip tightening painfully around Bellona’s arm. The imposing woman waved a small gun in her face. “Now, you either come quietly. Or I use this to break that pretty little nose of yours.”

“I have friends who will coming looking for me. They’ll kill you if you don’t let me go.” Bellona threatened. She struggled to pull away, but the other woman’s grip was vise-like. And seemed to only tighten at her protests.

“Ha! Let them come! I’ll shoot them all right between the eyes if they try anything. I’m not letting you slip away. Not with how much daddy dearest is paying us to bring you to him. You should be happy, girl. We’re reuniting you with your dear papa.” The hunter sneered. Giving Bellona one last cold look, she turned to call over her shoulder. “Emile, I got her! Tell Leos—”

Like hells you do! She cared not who it was they were taking her to. Bellona wasn’t going anywhere with them!

In a desperate attempt at escape, she bit down on her captor’s wrist. Bit down as hard as she could. Until she drew blood if she had to. However, the hold on her was released before she could down any real damage.

The woman cried out in agony. Swearing and shouting for her companion.

“You little bitch!”  

Bellona ran but the Roegadyn hunter was faster. Quick in her recovery, she grabbed at her again. Fingers dug into her flesh like the talons of some feral beast.

No!

The woman yanked her back before she could even get far. “You’re going to pay for that!” She snarled. Murder flashed behind that gaze.

The last thing Bellona saw was the back of the gun swinging for her face.

Krystall

A bit late but this is for day 3 of this years SuNor week - Magic - PG 13+ with mentions of violence and abuse

He was not sure when the fire in the chimney had died down, leaving the room cold, dark and quiet. Lukas was sitting in one of the old armchairs, trying to get at least a bit comfortable. The world outside was grey, he guesses it was late in the afternoon, but he was not sure about this. This place was absolutely timeless anyways and he could not even remember when he had been allowed to leave his chambers, which obviously meant it had been a couple of years already. Those wooden doors were always locked, and he was not even sure if Berwald possessed any keys or if the lock was just always frozen. Of course, the Norwegian had tried to use his magical flames to escape a couple of times since he had been forced to stay here, but it was useless. After weeks of cursing and literally destroying half the interior decoration and burning his skin countless times, he had given up. He could have tried to escape through the windows but his chambers were placed in a tower and if he was ever brave enough to jump, the ground below would shatter at least half of his bones. Even though he would not die and possessed healing abilities, they would catch him before he was able to stand up. Not that he wasn’t used to be caged, but at least Matthias had never kept him in a rather small area in an abandoned wing of his castle. The Dane had always kept him extremely close by his side, which of course had left him with scars and nightmares too, but at least he had never felt abandoned. Not at all. Matthias’ fire had been either a lot weaker than Berwalds or Lukas had grown even more frail. He liked to believe the first option more if he had to be honest. The whole castle was filled by the cold, bluish-golden aura that suffocated his own with each passing day. He could never know if or when the Swede would come to this part of the castle until he was able to hear his steps on the floor outside.

Since he was shivering all over – nothing new at all – he stood up, his joints cracking in the silence of the room and put a few pieces of wood into the chimney, enlightening it with his own flames. With a small sigh of relief, he stayed put in front of the growing fire, it was a shame that he didn’t possess enough energy to heat himself up with his magic. But with the little amount of training – basically he had no space to train his abilities at all – combined with his extreme low nutrition income, he didn’t have the chance to get stronger at all. With an extra piece of wood, not much thicker than his thin wrist, he settled down again, his small knife in his other hand.

His rooms consisted of two chambers, both too large for their own good. The little furniture, a desk with a wooden chair, two armchairs on an old blanket in front of the grey chimney. His bedroom was even larger with just a canopy bed that was also too huge. All walls were grey, empty and lifeless. He had tried to decorate them and his desk with those carved pieces of wood. Well, he could have tried and ask for colours and canvas, just to keep himself busy. But Berwald would possibly not grand him any of these things. Sometimes Lukas thought that the older one wanted to drive him crazy in some way, perfectly knowing that Lukas could barely stand being bored. And still he, as well as his sanity, had survived god-knows how long.  

He had transformed the rough wood into a small bear as he finally heard something other than the crackling sound of the flames consuming the branches. Lukas couldn’t help but quiver a bit as the clacking noises came closer – it wasn’t necessary a bad thing when the Swede came over, once in a while. The Norwegian kept counting the times when the older was nice enough to visit, mostly just to bring him letters from either Matthias or Emil, sometimes little packages from Sanders or even Ivan as well. It had been snowing for at least five weeks by now and since then the older had been here three times. He wouldn’t count one of them as a meet though, he had just woken up the next day to find a couple of letters on his desk. Not that he was too keen on seeing him again, it was just relaxing for his mental health to know that he wasn’t completely alone in this world. Not even servants were allowed to actually interact with him, causing them to mostly refill his storage of bred in the night. The Swedes Aura was incredible strong as the steps stopped and with a long, hissing noise, the crystals on the locked door begun to melt. Lukas hated this sound more than the individual that caused it. Still, he wasn’t sure how to feel about the other, not at all. Surely, he could hate him for breaking every single promise they had, surely he could despise him for forcing him into this union and locking him away, as far from his lands as Matthias had done. Whenever he was sitting in front of his chimney, thinking about the older one, he could feel his heart getting cold and icy from all the pain that he had inflicted on him in the past ten, or fifteen (?) years. But in the evening when he was laying on this mattress – he had not been sleeping in an own bed for nearly four hundred years – he yearned for his attention. It was more than a bit maddening, he had the feeling he was turning crazy. The noise that turned louder and higher in its frequency did not really help him to clear his mind.

Finally the hissing died down and for a couple of seconds he tried to relax and put on his mask of indifference, but then the silence was broken by the crackling sound of the old door swinging open. Luksa didn’t turn around, why would he? He was never sure if he hoped for a conversation or if he just wished that he would be left alone, because seeing the older one made him feel a toxic cocktail of emotions. “Norge.” Well, he had forgotten that they were on such distant terms by now. Still, Lukas did not turn his head to look at him – the other did not deserve talking to him anyways. Either of them had always, always known that, to him, there was nothing as important as freedom. Either of them had known and still both had broken his wings and thrown him in a cage as if his free will meant nothing to them. And still, he had to control himself to silently stare at the fire in the chimney, watching the shadows the flames casted on the black of the chimney, he had to control himself although… “I know you hear me.”, another few steps, the clacking sound of his boots would turn him insane in no time, nearly as insane as the silence that kept him caged. With a sound too loud for his good, a couple of letters, no, a whole pack of letters, were slammed on the little, wooden table placed between the armchairs and then, the other one placed himself on the other armchair. The strong need to burn the chair including the Swede sitting on it, filled his mind and he balled his hands to fists. His deep eyes scanned the different letters. It were so many that he could not believe that they were just the once that had arrived during the last weeks. Additional to this, a few of the envelopes had been opened. Lukas’ gaze turned from forced indifference over nervousness to anger. “What have you done?”, he was always surprised how he sounded – his voice was dark for a person looking as androgynous and frail as he did, and it cracked a couple of times. He wasn’t used to talking at all, having no one around to talk to. He had not seen his magical friends in decades. They had disappeared as the abuse had turned too cruel for them to look at, as his soul had turned to sharp, shattered pieces of glass, cutting everyone that tried to come too close, human or not. Berwald’s gaze was not friendlier than the one of the Norwegian, not at all. The presence of the younger one in the heart of his country bordered him, the fire he could feel burning inside of his opponent threatened his ice, his aura did not surrender to his own. “Nothing.”, in contrast to Lukas’, the Swedes voice was clear and sharp as ice. The coldness in his tone was enough to make Lukas snap, finally, finally. His hand shot forward, got a hold of the letters and brought his gaze up to stare draggers into those ocean eyes. “You call this nothing?!”, he pulled out one of the opened envelopes, it was from Rosenholm, Emil’s residence in Denmark. “Why are you reading my letters?”, his voice grew louder and he slammed the letters down again. “Isn’t it enough you keep me here? Now you are spying on me as well?”, he could feel his face heat up in anger. Berwald just looked at him with disdain, neither saying a word nor moving in his armchair even as Lukas jumped out of his own. “I don’t trust you.”, he finally answered, his tone seeping with a mixture of scorn and dander. “Oh, you don’t trust me?”, the sarcasm in his voice was stinging, hiding a bitter laugh. “You don’t trust me? I am sorry, haven’t I been a good little dog, staying in this freaking rooms all the time so that you don’t have to deal with me? What bothers you so much that you read these petty letters that are all I have left from the world outside this disgusting castle?”, dangerous little sparks flew from his tightened fist and slowly but surely he didn’t care anymore that Berwald was probably a whole lot stronger than he was. “I never trusted you since then.”, he would not lower himself to answer his stupid questions or be provoked by his attempts to play a little game with him. He was old enough to not embark himself in the mind tricks of the younger, knowing how perfectly skilled he was in manipulating others. With or without his magic. Lukas rolled his eyes. “Since I chose to stay with him? But what does this count now, Sverige? You are just the same as him. You always think you are so much better, don’t you?”, he hadn’t even faked the grin that appeared on his pale lips as he stepped closer, the sparks in his palm multiplied. Berwald supressed a mixture of a sigh and a noise of anger as he rose from his seat. He should not have come here, not at all. He did not know why he could not send Lukas back to Christiania, because his presence made him sick, but his absence would probably kill him. He could not be with him, he could not be without him. If he let go of him, Matthias would most likely come and take him back, as always neither caring what either of them wanted. He had never cared. Maybe he was bad in showing it, but Berwald did indeed care. Lukas was just blind and ignorant, like he always was. He walked past him without a second gaze, reached the door and froze as he heard his partners voice again. “And you dare to treat me like that, all while claiming to have freed me and god-knows what else? Just because I am not your little beloved Finland, you think you can just lock me away and let me rot here?”, Lukas couldn’t even blink twice before a sharp pain on his cheek send him to the wall in his back. Of course, he had forgotten this unspoken rule that haunted this place as well as every single location in which the Swede socialised. No one, no one ever spoke about the Finn. It sparked a blinding anger in the Swedish Kingdom, but on the other hand, Lukas knew that it was hurting him and why shouldn’t he hurt him? He left him here, he abandoned him, he did not care at all about he felt, he wouldn’t let him see his lands, he kept him here, suffocating in his own loneliness, turning him crazy from the mixture of love and hate he felt for his keeper.   He had bit his tongue and with a toxic gaze he spit a bit of blood into the direction of the Swede. Berwald was closer now, too close, and the air around him seemed to cool down rapidly. Lukas did not regret provoking him – in a way he was attracted to the danger that radiated from his elder, plus he could see the pain reflecting in his seablue eyes. “Don’t you dare bring him into this.”, a hand grabbed the collar of his white shirt, pressing him closer to the stones in his back. Lukas raised a hand and clenched it around the taller one’s hand, activating his heat. Berwald hated it when someone talked about Tino, reminding him how much he had failed the Finn, failed to protect him, failed to grant him a decent life, failed to win his heart, failed to gain anything. He was cursed with Lukas, cursed with his love, cursed with his presence, cursed with the flames that slowly crept up his shirt. With frost spreading over Berwalds skin, the flames were put down again and he lift Lukas up, slamming him against the stones in the hope to whip the grin out of his face. Lukas felt like laughing but he didn’t. He felt like crying, but he didn’t do this either. Instead he continued to stare at him, ignoring his aching back. “You don’t deserve him. You don’t deserve anyone. And you know that, you know that perfectly. Remember Emil’s words? He said you would become a monster as well.”, his midnight eyes lightened up, bringing flames to Berwalds boots what caused the latter to let go of him. Still, Lukas wasn’t quick enough to escape from the wall that prevented him from eluding, and he knew the silence of the other wasn’t a good sign at all. While Lukas’ tongue turned sharp the angrier he got and Matthias turning all loud in his fury, the Swede got more and more quiet with his actions getting insanely brutal. The ice formed crystals on the ground, frost shed over the stones, climbed over the walls, the armchairs and finally formed small patches of ice on Lukas shoes and pinned him to the wall. He kept his distance to the Norwegian though, avoiding to gaze into his face, because Lukas could easily lit flames with his gaze. Despite being weaker than Berwald physically, his magical abilities were more complex and his control of them was more advanced. The anger that turned his blood to ice, tainted his vision red, and he was not able to restrain himself. How could the other compare him with this stupid, cruel Dane? He wasn’t like that, he wasn’t like that. Never. Whatever Emil had said, curse him and his fortune telling abilities, curse this little child, god damn. With his vision distorting more and more, the ice was growing and no matter how Lukas increased his heat, he couldn’t escape the crystals encaging him. The coldness was stinging, and he pressed his hands against the ice around his hips, melting it bit by bit with his flames. “Finally shut up, haven’t you?”, Berwald didn’t really care about the danger anymore that came with the shrinking distance between them. His greenish blue eyes had darkened, his vision consisted more and more of twisted shadows and with one hand he grasped the smaller one’s hand, freezing them above his head in an instant. The other clenched around his throat in a still rather light hold, forcing him to look upwards. Oh well, maybe he wasn’t that much better than the Dane but what did that matter right now? Lukas wanted to play this game and now he had to bare the consequences. The cold drained the Norwegian of his energy and although he tried to focus his energy to produce new flames preferably on the others hair, he wasn’t able to lit any. Instead, the hand around his neck choke him and he had to bit down harshly on his lips to prevent himself from producing any miserable sounds. With blood trickling down his chin and a stubborn, cold gaze, he eyed Berwald. If he thought this would scare him, he was oh so wrong. His darkened, dangerous eyes, provoked Lukas to mock him more, maybe because he couldn’t stand the indifference the other held for him. He wanted to be loved, he wanted to be hated, he wanted anything, anything. Not a little sound passed his lips though because from one second to another, sharp teeth made their way into the sensible flesh, the cold breath of the other mixing with his own heat. Lukas’ heart stumbled in horror, froze for a second and his eyes turned dull.

Elvis, Truelove and the Stolen Boy: The Tragic Machismo of Nick Cassavetes’ ‘Alpha Dog’ by Amy Nicholson

[Last year, Musings paid homage to Produced and Abandoned: The Best Films You’ve Never Seen, a review anthology from the National Society of Film Critics that championed studio orphans from the ‘70s and ‘80s. In the days before the Internet, young cinephiles like myself relied on reference books and anthologies to lead us to films we might not have discovered otherwise. Released in 1990, Produced and Abandoned was a foundational piece of work, introducing me to such wonders as Cutter’s Way, Lost in America, High Tide, Choose Me, Housekeeping, and Fat City. (You can find the full list of entries here.) Our first round of Produced and Abandoned essays included Angelica Jade Bastién on By the Sea, Mike D’Angelo on The Counselor, Judy Berman on Velvet Goldmine, and Keith Phipps on O.C. and Stiggs. Today, Musings concludes our month-long round of essays about tarnished gems, in the hope they’ll get a second look. Or, more likely, a first. —Scott Tobias, editor.]

A decade before the presidency that elevated insults like “betacuck” and “soyboy” into political discourse, Nick Cassavetes made Alpha Dog, a cautionary tragedy about masculinity that audiences ignored. Time for a reappraisal. Alpha Dog is about a real murder. Over a three-day weekend in August of 2000, 15-year-old Zach Mazursky—in reality, named Nicholas Markowitz—is kidnapped and killed by the posse of 20-year-old San Fernando Valley drug dealer Johnny Truelove (Emile Hirsch) with a grudge against Zach’s older brother. No one thought the boy would die, not his main babysitter Frankie (Justin Timberlake), not the girls invited to party with “Stolen Boy,” and not even the boy himself, played with naive perfection by Anton Yelchin, who played video games and pounded beers assuming that his new captor-friends would eventually take him home.

Cassavetes’ daughter went to the same high school as Nicholas Markowitz. The murderers were neighborhood kids and he wanted to understand how fortunate sons with their whole lives ahead of them wound up in prison. The trigger man, Ryan Hoyt—“Elvis” in the film—had never even gotten a speeding ticket. Prosecutor Ron Zonen hoped the publicity around Alpha Dog would help the public spot the real-life Johnny, named Jesse James Hollywood, who was still on the lam despite being one of America’s Most Wanted. So the lawyers gave Cassavetes access to everything: crime scene photos, trial transcripts, psychological profiles, police reports, and their permission to contact the criminals and their parents. Cassavetes even took his actors to meet their counterparts, driving Justin Timberlake to a maximum security prison to get the vibe of the actual Frankie, and introducing Sharon Stone to Nicholas Markowitz’s mother, a broken woman who attempted suicide a dozen times in the years after her son's death.

Alpha Dog, pronounced Cassavetes, was “95 percent accurate.” Which was part of why it got buried, thanks to Jesse James Hollywood’s arrest just weeks after the film wrapped. Cassavetes hastily wrote a new ending to the movie, but his problems were just beginning. Hollywood’s lawyers insisted Alpha Dog would prevent their client from getting a fair trial, and used the threat of a mistrial to force Zonen off the case. “I don't know what Zonen was thinking, handing over the files,” gloated Hollywood’s defense team. “It was stupid.”

The publicity, and the delays, dragged out the pain for Markowitz’s family, especially when they heard Cassavetes had paid Hollywood’s father an, er, consulting fee. “Where is the justice in that?” asked the victim's brother. “This just goes on and on, and I’m spending my whole life in a courtroom.”

The film, too, was pushed back a year from its Sundance premiere. Despite casting a visionary young ensemble—Alpha Dog was my own introduction to Yelchin, Ben Foster, Olivia Wilde, Amanda Seyfried, Amber Heard, and the realization that Timberlake, that kid from N*SYNC, could actually act—no one noticed when it slid into theaters in January of 2007. It wasn’t just the bad press. It was that audiences couldn’t get past that Cassavetes’ last film was The Notebook. No way could the guy behind the biggest romantic weepy of a generation make something raw and cool.

But he had. Alpha Dog is a stunning movie about machismo and fate, two tag-team traits that destroy lives. Think Oedipus convincing himself he can outwit the oracle of Delphi. But Sophocles’ Oedipus telegraphs its intentions, elbowing the audience to see the end at the beginning. Greeks sitting down in 405 BC knew they were watching a tale that came full circle. Every step Oedipus takes away from his patricidal destiny just moves him closer to it.

If you map Alpha Dog’s script, instead of a loop, it looks like a horizontal line that plummets off a cliff. For most of its running time, Alpha Dog could pass for a coming-of-age flick where a sheltered kid with an over-protective mom (Sharon Stone) taps into his own self-confidence, right up until the scene where he tumbles into his own grave. Audiences who’d missed the news articles about the case weren’t clued into the climax. Cassavetes doesn’t offer any hints or flash-forwards, not even an ominous “based-on-a-true-story.” (The film might have been more successful if he had.) Instead, he lulls you into joining the kegger, watching Zach crack open beer after beer as though he expects to live forever. “There’s a movie sensibility that the film doesn’t conform to,” said Cassavetes. “You don’t watch this film. You endure it.”

As Zach, his eyes red-rimmed from bong rips, not tears, is shuttled between party dens and wealthy homes, he’s given several chances to escape. He’s even revealed to be a Tae Kwan Do blackbelt who can jokingly flip his captor-buddy Frankie (Justin Timberlake) into a bathtub. But Zach stays put—he doesn’t want to get his big brother Jake (Ben Foster) in more trouble, not realizing that Johnny is too busy making nervous phone calls to his lawyer and his aggro father Sonny (Bruce Willis) to get around to asking Jake for the $1200 in ransom money.

Zach’s death is disorienting, almost as if Psycho's Marion Crane got murdered in the second-to-last reel. In a minivan en route to his execution, he innocently tells Frankie he wants learn to play guitar. “It bugs me that I don’t know how to do anything,” he sighs. Meanwhile Johnny assures his dad that there’s no need to call off the killing. “These guys are such fuck-ups, nothing's gonna happen,” he shrugs, a rare example of cross-cutting that defuses tension in order to make the shock of the gunfire even worse. Up until the last second—even after Frankie binds him with duct tape—a sobbing Zach still can’t believe Frankie would hurt him, and honestly, Frankie can’t believe it himself. And Yelchin’s own early death makes you ache for him to get a happy ending, which Cassavetes dangles just out of reach.

This is how evil happens, says Cassavetes. Masterminds are rare. Instead, people like Frankie can be basically good, but can also be panicky and passive and selfish. Shoving Zach in Johnny’s van was an idiotic impulse by upper middle-class kids, who flipped out when they realized the snatching could get them a lifetime sentence. There’s no honor or glory in the violence. Johnny, the cowardly ringleader, talks tough, but orders his most craven friend, Elvis (Shawn Hatosy), to pull the trigger while he and his girlfriend Angela (Olivia Wilde) get drunk on margaritas. And after the murder, one side effect is that Johnny can’t get an erection. When Angela tries to get Johnny in the mood in their hideout motel, the walls close in on him, suffocating the mood.  

Away from his boys, Johnny is weak. Surrounded by them, he's the king. Alpha Dog sets up a culture of animalistic dominance. Johnny’s rental house is basically a primate cage at the zoo, only decorated with weight benches and Scarface posters. All of Johnny’s boys jockey to be his favorite and tear each other down in order to bump up their own rank. Kindness is weakness. When a fellow dealer with the ridiculous nickname Bobby 911 cruises by to negotiate a sale, he snarls at a guy who vouches for him: “You don’t need to tell him I’m good for it, man!”

Elvis, the future shooter, is the lowest member of the pack. He can’t ease into the group without Johnny ordering him to go pick up his pit-bull's poop in the backyard. Why do they pick on Elvis? He owes Johnny a bit of money, but the source of the scorn is simply group think. No one wants to be nice to the outcast, and Elvis is just too sincere to be taken seriously. When Elvis offers to get Johnny a beer, the guys tease him for being in love with Johnny. When he says sure, he does care about Johnny, they twist words into a gay panic joke. Elvis can’t win—they won’t let him—so he literally kills to prove his worth, and winds up sentenced to death row, where the real boy, just 21 at the time of the shooting, remains today. Another life wasted.

Cassavetes humanizes the killers because he wants us to understand how their micro decisions add up to murder. Not just the gunmen. Everyone’s a little to blame. The kids who got drunk with “Stolen Boy” and didn’t call the police. The girls who told Zach that being kidnapped made him sexy. Even Zach’s older step-brother Jake, an addict with a twitchy temper who escalates his war with Johnny to a fatal breaking point. Neither boy will back down over a $1200 debt, and there’s an awful split screen call when Johnny dials Jake intending to bring Zach home, but Jake is so boiling over with anger, his Bugs Bunny voice shrieking with outrage, that Johnny just hangs up the phone.

The opening credits, a montage of the cast’s own old home videos, underline that these were young and happy children—the kind of kids people point to as examples of the suburban American ideal. Over a treacly cover of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” we watch these real life boys being cultured to be brave: riding bikes, falling off dive-boards, running around with toy guns, going through the rituals of young manhood, from bar mitzvahs to karate lessons. Yelchin—recognizably dark-eyed and solemn even as a toddler—grins wearing plastic vampire teeth.

It takes another ten minutes for Yelchin’s character to sneak into the film sideways in a profile shot eating dinner with his parents, played by Sharon Stone and David Thornton. His Zach is barely even visible as brash Jake barges into the scene to beg for money. They say no, Jake stomps out, and Zach finally makes himself seen when he runs after his brother, begging to go anywhere less suffocating. Zach’s mom loves him so much that she watches him sleep. “I’m not fucking eight!” he yelps. He’s 15—practically a man, in his own imagination—and desperate to get away, even if it means mimicking Jake, a Jewish kid who’s so scrambled that he has a Hebrew tattoo on his clavicle and a swastika inked on his back. Jake starts to say that he wishes his own mom cared about him that much, but as soon as he gets vulnerable, he spins the moment into a joke. “Boo for me,” Jake grins, and takes another swig of beer.

“You could say it’s about drugs or guns or disaffected youth, but this whole thing is about parenting,” grunts Bruce Willis’ Sonny Truelove. “It’s about taking care of your children. You take care of yours, I take care of mine.” He’s half-right—his parenting is half to blame. Sonny and his best friend Cosmo (Harry Dean Stanton) taught Johnny to bully his friends. Cosmo, looking haggard and hollow, mocks Johnny for having one girlfriend. “You gotta plow some fucking fields,” he bellows. “Men are not supposed to be monopolous!” Not that “monopolous” is a real word, and not that Cosmo fends off women himself, except in his own big talk.

Cosmo and Sonny’s own posturing gradually emerges as being more dangerous than Johnny’s because it's more integrated into society. They’re the type of creeps who rewrite the rulebook to suit them, and attack journalists who try to tell the truth. When a fictitious documentarian asks Sonny about his son's drug connections, the father shrugs, “Did he sell a little weed? Sure.” But when the interviewer presses him further, Sonny snaps, “I’m a taxpayer and I’m a citizen and you are a jerk-off.”

Cassavetes, of course, understands growing up with a father who left a giant footprint to fill. His father, John Cassavetes, the writer-director of Shadows and Faces and A Woman Under the Influence, was one of the major pioneers of independent cinema. He died when Nick was 30, before his son attempted to take up his legacy. “We never really talked film theory,” said Cassavetes. “My experience with my dad was more along the lines of how to be a man, how to be yourself, how to free yourself from what society tells you to do, how to release yourself as an artist.”

It makes sense that Cassavetes would make his own ambitious, and maddeningly singular film. And perhaps it even makes sense to him that fate has yet to give him the reward he’s earned. Alpha Dog deserves to be acknowledged as one of the most incisive examinations of machismo and the banality of evil. But like his fumbling criminals, he knows he’s not really in charge of his life. Admitted Cassavetes, “I'm not smart enough to really have a master plan for my career.”

What Are We Doing?

It was the Pig and Viktor’s wedding in Hasetsu, on the beach. Since Viktor wanted their wedding to be outrageous and fun, and Yuuri went along with Viktor’s every whim, it was requested that everyone attending wear a Yukata.

The day before the wedding, most of the guests were due to arrive and Yuri (being an important part of the wedding party (the ‘don’t let Phichit get Yuuri drunk beforehand’ part), was staying at the Yu-topia Katsuki with the rest of the wedding party who were slowly arriving through-out the course of the day.

Although Yuri was attempting to be civil and socialise with the guests who had already arrive, Chris, Yakov, Mila, Phichit, Leo, Gueng Hong, Seung Gil, the Italian twins and some of Yuuri’s skating friends from Detroit that Yuri couldn’t remember the names of. He was actually impatiently waiting for 1.50pm when his best friend was due to arrive.

After Barcelona and Otabek’s ultimate rescue of Yuri, they had seen each other only briefly over the last couple of years. This week was going to be the first time they were going to spend five days straight together. They had, however, texted every day and video chatted each other at least every three days and somehow what had started as a slow ‘get to know you’ kind of friendship had progressed into a space Yuri wasn’t sure about it.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Otabek, if anything, it was the complete opposite, but their constant contact, hints at flirting and the longing he was currently feeling watching the clock strike 1.45pm, made Yuri concerned that this was no longer just friendship.

Since the last time they had seen each other three months before, Otabek had been sending Yuri messages with more words then he normally used, being more open with him and different in a way Yuri couldn’t completely put his finger on. He had convinced himself, however, that everything was just going to make perfect sense as soon as he was able to actually see Otabek in person.

Yuri watched as the clock tick over to 1.50, he had had a text from Otabek at 1.30 when he was hopping in a taxi at the airport and told Yuri to wait outside for him then. Yuri broke away from the conversations happening around him and ducked outside to go greet Otabek, hoping he was on time.

Yuri waited a full three minutes before the taxi arrived and Otabek, wearing a tight-fitting tank top, dark red jeans and a face that looked half asleep, slid out. When he saw Yuri waiting for him, leaning nonchalantly against a post, Otabek smiled broadly and Yuri’s heart practically fell out of his chest. Otabek looked fuckin’ hot with the whole, “just got out of bed but is still half asleep” thing but Yuri calmed himself and merely smiled back.

Otabek paid the driver and got out his luggage, Yuri was surprised at the size of Otabek’s luggage but had forgot to say anything by the time Otabek was actually in front of him. Otabek stopped in front of Yuri, dropped his carry-on luggage and suitcase handle and without saying a word, wrapped his arms around Yuri’s waist and lifted him into a bear hug.

Yuri gasped in surprised before hugging Otabek’s head (it was the only part of him he could really reach considering how Otabek was holding him and it wasn’t as if Yuri had grown in height much over the years). Yuri bent and buried his head in the mess of Otabek’s hair feeling him chuckle underneath him.

Yuri felt a tight squeeze before he was placed softly on the ground again, hands still up in Otabek’s hair, they lingered there a second too long before Yuri realised and snatched them away, ensuing another chuckle from Otabek. Yuri shoved his shoulder.

“Come on Beka, you are like the last one here, come say hello to the idiot and the pig.” Otabek grabbed his luggage and followed Yuri inside. When they entered the door, they were immediately tugged from each other’s side into the throngs of well-wishers and drinks were offered while toasts were made.

Although Yuri attempted to get away from Viktor’s arm slung heavily around his shoulders, when he caught a glimpse of Otabek chatting to JJ, Emil, Michele and Yuuri, he was blocked by Chris shoving another drink into his hand.

Arsehole.

It was late by the time he escaped the drinking party and feel onto the floor next to Otabek, the wedding wasn’t starting until 2pm the following day so Viktor had announcing the continuation of the celebrations.

Yuri had helped the pig escape to his separate room just before midnight because Yuuri was adamant that he was going to keep the tradition of nothing seeing Viktor on the day of their wedding, even with his drink-addled brain he was fucking persistent that Yuri needed to help him.

After ditching Yuuri in his bed and praying, for everyone’s sake, that he just falls asleep, Yuri escaped. (Everyone had already agreed days earlier, that Chris would sleep with Viktor so he couldn’t sneak into Yuuri’s bed, we all know he would have if no one was actively watching him.)

Plonking down next to Otabek, Yuri couldn’t help but notice the drunk glow that made his best friend appear smiley and sleepy at the same time.

Damn it.

Otabek was sitting with his long legs spread out in front of him, the tight jeans leaving little to the imagination, his shirt had apparently been lost in some game the other skaters played that Yuri somehow managed to get out of (Chris was down to his boxers, JJ was running around shirtless, most of the other skating, including the girls, were all shirtless and Yuuri had been pant-less when Yuri had finally shoved him into bed).

But Otabek was leaning back against his own hands, letting his head lull slightly as he watched Yuri approach and sit next to him. Yuri had never seen Otabek okay with showing off that much of his skin and Yuri couldn’t look away from the tone muscles that rippled slight as he breathed in and out and the muscles on his arms that were flexed to support his weight.

Holy shit.

“You look like you’re having a good night.” Yuri observed, attempting to put bitterness into his words rather than his longing and sadness that this was the first time they were able to speak. Otabek smirked.

“You missed me.”

It wasn’t a question.

Observant Prick.

Yuri shoved Otabek’s shoulder as he chuckled, Yuri silently pleading that his face looked flushed from the alcohol and nothing else.

“You wish, Beka.” Yuri said while still attempting to shove Otabek over. But he was strong and didn’t waver even though Yuri was sure he was drunker then he seemed. It was then that Otabek reached up with his opposite hand, grabbed Yuri’s wrist and pulled. Yuri was so shocked by the sudden change in pressed from his hand that he toppled onto Otabek’s lap. Yuri was now lying with his stomach flat across Otabek’s legs, his wrist still held away from his body.

For the first few seconds Yuri’s drunk brain couldn’t catch up with his body and he stayed there, across Otabek, perfectly still, which wouldn’t have been an issue except that it gave Otabek the necessary time to enact the plan he had apparently concocted.

Otabek leaned forward, taking his weight of his right hand, his using his left hand still to hold Yuri’s wrist away from him. Otabek reach around Yuri to his side and began to tickle him. Yuri let out what could only have been described as muffled squawk as he began to use his free hand to try to shove him away.

There was Yuri, Otabek wrapped over his body, trapped between his chest and legs, one arm pinned to the ground above his head, squirming and pleading. Otabek was laughing, a hearty, deep laugh that vibrated against Yuri’s bare back (Otabek had lifted his shirt up to get to his side).

No. No, no, no!

This couldn’t be happening, most of the party goers had moved into a different room and somehow Yuri was now alone with Otabek, pinned between him, drunk, with their skin touching and Otabek was touching him so lightly that Yuri’s brain was turning to mush. But there was no way in hell he was going to let this just happen.

Yuri kept shoving at Otabek’s hand, tugging at his pinned wrist and moving his hips in an attempt to free himself but that was when he felt it. Otabek was hard.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It can’t be.

Yuri stopped moving, he wasn’t sure why he stopped struggling but he knew Otabek was stronger than him anyway so he wasn’t getting away. Otabek took this as a sign, he grabbed hold of Yuri’s other wrist, shoved them together in his left hand and in one quick movement, yanked Yuri sideways, guiding Yuri’s hips with his other hand, so Yuri was now laying completely on top of him.

Otabek was holding Yuri’s hands above both of their heads, something that was only really achievable because Yuri was flexible. Otabek had leaned back slightly so now Yuri was chest to chest with him, looking straight into his eyes.

Before Yuri could say anything, he was being rolled onto his back. Otabek’s big hand held both of Yuri’s wrists above his head, now he was hovering, just off Yuri’s small frame. Otabek was leaning on the elbow of his other arm, toes holding the rest of his weight as if he was doing a kind of weird push up over the top of Yuri.

Yuri’s heart was in his throat, his wrist stinging slightly from the pressure and there was a ringing in his ears that he couldn’t understand. Otabek was smiling broadly at his prisoner, Yuri could feel his warm breath against his face.

“What are you doing, fuckin’ idiot.” There was no malice in Yuri’s words, he isn’t even sure he could have mustered up anger if he tried. The only emotion he could really feel at this point was want.

He wanted Otabek to slam his body down of top of him, he wanted to press his lips roughly against his, licking, sucking and panting. He wanted to lift his hips up against Otabek’s so they were grinding against each other and he wanted it not to stop until morning.

But Yuri didn’t move, Otabek didn’t speak, he stayed there, hovering and smiling, searching Yuri’s face before they heard the distinct voice of Viktor who appear to be stumbling towards the room they were in.

Yuri widened his eyes in fear, pleading that the message of “Get the fuck off, now” would get through to Otabek but before he could say anything Otabek leaned forward. Yuri was surprised but the action was unmistakable, Otabek lowered himself quickly, pressed his lips against Yuri’s for half a second and then shoved himself complete off Yuri and into a sitting position just in time for Viktor and Chris to literally fall through the door into the room.

Yuri was still laying on the floor with his hands above his head in a haze of confusion by the time Chris and Viktor noticed them. Chris was chuckling while Viktor appeared to be whimpering into his hands. Yuri had forced his hands under his head as if to appear to be comfortably laying down.

Otabek had lifted the leg that was facing Viktor and Chris up close to his body and Yuri could see why, the jeans Otabek was wearing were pulled tight across his still hard crotch but his faced looked serene and sleepy, showing no sign of discomfort or fear.

“Little Kitten! Help meeee! They won’t let me see my-hiccup-my Yuuuuuuuuri.” Viktor was seated on the floor in the doorway, tears staining his face and his arms folded across his chest like a toddler chucking a tantrum. Chris was sitting next to him, still laughing quietly.

“You know you can’t see him, idiot.” Yuri sat up, looking at Chris “Hey shithead, you are meant to put groom number one to bed with you, why are you here?” Chris looks up at him, his eyes half drooped closed and his mouth in a wide smirk.

“Viktor wouldn’t listen, he says I’m not good enough anymore.” Chris shrugged at Yuri’s face of disgust.

“We’ll help you.” Otabek spoke for the first time in what felt like an hour for Yuri and stood up, offering his hand to Yuri which he slapped away, not hard, but he stood up himself. Yuri rolled his eyes and stormed over to Viktor, grabbing his arm and yanking him to his feet, although Viktor was still substantially talking then Yuri, his drunken state made him easier to tug around.

Viktor fell on top of Yuri, almost causing him to fall over before Otabek grabbed Victor and effortlessly slung him up and over his shoulder. Everyone was in shock for a second before Chris started laughing again, “Alright muscles, lead the way.” Viktor had ragged-dolled over Otabek’s shoulder but was whimpering and whispering about missing his little piglet while Otabek walked towards his room.

Chris barked directions from behind them and Yuri followed, not really sure how he was meant to feel but he knew leaving whatever just happened in that room, unsaid, wasn’t good for his brain right now.

Otabek practically throw Viktor onto his bed, shoving Chris into the bed with him. “Sleep Groomie, your Yuuri will be seeing you from the other end of the isle soon enough, you know that’s what he wants.” Somehow Otabek’s words clicked something in Viktor, he put on a grimace but nodded his head and rolled over to sleep without saying another word. Chris started patting Viktor on the back and nodded that they could leave now.

Yuri was honestly surprised by Otabek’s ability to sooth Viktor, “How’d you know what to say?” Yuri said quietly, staring at the floor as he began walking towards his own room, down the hall. He saw Otabek shrug out of the corner of his eye.

It was only when they got to Yuri’s room that he realised Otabek was meant to have caught a taxi to his hotel room hours ago but here he was, staring down at Yuri, standing outside of his room, the heated tension from earlier picking up right where it left off.

“Can I sleep with you?” Otabek was nothing but straight to the point. Yuri wasn’t sure what to do, his mouth had gone dry and hung open, his palms were sweaty and he felt like he had been hit by a tonne of bricks, his limbs felt so heavy.

That was when he woke up, a split second later, having passed out just long enough to fall into Otabek’s arms and for him to scoop him up into them like a princess. Yuri was irritated with himself, his body was a total traitor and now Otabek was opening the door, closed it stiffly behind them and walked over to Yuri’s bed.

Otabek paused there, holding Yuri above his bed, one hand cradling his knees and another supporting the middle of this back. Yuri had his own hands in fist in his lap but he didn’t try to pull away either, just stared down at them.

“Yura…” Otabek’s voice was strained, it almost sounded like he was about to cry. Yuri flinched, looking up into Otabek’s face. It was soft, calming and half a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. He held Yuri still but moved his head slowly until it was resting against Yuri’s forehead to forehead, Otabek closed his eyes and breathing slowly.

“Yura, I missed you.” It was comforting and reassuring, Yuri wasn’t totally sure what was going on, what had happened before or what was about to happen but he was sure he would never feel this comfortable and safe ever again.

Wow, that’s lame.

Yuri couldn’t help but laugh out loud at himself, Otabek pulled back from his face, eye brows crinkling in confusion. Yuri’s drunk giggles had apparently kicked in and now he couldn’t stop. He attempted to speak, to reassure Otabek he really wasn’t laughing at him but then Otabek started, a rumbling in his chest and a smile broke out over his face.

It was then that Yuri noticed again that Otabek was shirtless, his warmth was radiating from him, heating up every piece of Yuri that was touching him. Yuri laid his head on Otabek’s shoulder, still laughing a little before taking a deep breathe to calm himself.

“I’ll-I should let you down…” Otabek had stopped laughing as soon as Yuri had moved into him and was now looking at Yuri with serious eyes, but not motioning to actually move or let Yuri go.

“I guess.” Yuri said, utterly failing to hide the disappointment that weighed heavily on his words. Otabek let out an irritated huff.

“Yura, if you be like that…” he paused, kissing the top of Yuri’s head, an action Yuri recalled only his mother doing when he was very young. Yuri’s blushed set fire to his entire face, making even his ears feel hot with embarrassment.

“Beka.” Yuri groaned, reflexively burying his face to hide his embarrassing. Of course. realising too late that his face was already against Otabek’s chest and was now pushed closer into him, his nose brushing accidently against Otabek’s nipple piercing.

“Yuri…” Otabek said his name almost as a warning, it was filled with concern and excitement, Yuri couldn’t help himself. He shifted his head up slightly, stuck out his tongue and flipped the circular ring upwards. Otabek let out a soft gasp and Yuri felt both of his hands tighten their grip.

Yuri let out a satisfied and mischievous laugh before sticking his tongue out further, twirling it around his nipple. Otabek was shifting uneasily, still holding Yuri in place even though his breathing had speed up.

“Yu-Yuri, seriously, what are you-” Otabek’s question was cut short when Yuri took it upon himself to suck the piercing he had been playing with, into his mouth. Otabek’s knees gave way and he slid onto the floor, Yuri falling onto the bed and releasing his prize with a gasp.

“Yuri, what… is that?” Otabek was staring at Yuri’s stomach, his leopard print singlet had ridden up his chest revealing a small sparkling bar that sat in Yuri’s belly button. He hadn’t told anyone he was getting it a few weeks earlier and had decided to wait to show Otabek in person but it had completely slipped his mind.

Yuri shifted his elbows under his shoulders to prop himself up slightly. “Oh, you like?” Yuri wiggled his hips to show off his new accessory that reflected off the moon light streaming in his window. “I wanted to show you in person first.” Yuri was proud of himself for keeping it a secret for so long, he had never kept something from Otabek for more than about a day.  

“It’s hot.” Otabek’s matter of fact voice made Yuri blush, he was used to people called him pretty or beautiful or even kitten but never had anything about him ever be referred to as hot. He moved his elbows out from underneath himself, putting both his hands on his face. “Jeez, idiot.” Yuri said into his hands, too embarrassed to look at Otabek or insult him more.

He felt Otabek shift at his side slightly before a light, wet sensation tickled his belly button. He gasped, flinging his hands out to push Otabek away. He spoke into Yuri’s stomach. “Uh-uh, it’s payback.” Otabek began kissing, sucking and licking Yuri’s belly button while Yuri squirmed and tugged at Otabek’s hair, afraid if he told him to stop, something other than words would come out of his mouth.

Yuri clenched and unclenched his fists in Otabek’s hair, chowing on the inside of his cheek to keep his mouth shut and attempting to still his own hips. Otabek had moved, he was still kneeling on the floor next to the bed but one hand was lightly pressing down on Yuri’s thigh, holding it in place, while his other hand rested on Yuri’s ribs.

He couldn’t think straight, he was overly sensitive to Otabek’s hands and tongue which was twirling circles around his belly button. When Otabek actually began sucking the bar forcefully into his mouth Yuri lost all sense and let go of his cheek. He heard himself moan in pleasure, not loudly, but loud enough that Otabek heard it.

Otabek stopped sucking, to Yuri’s disappointment, he moved his hands, got to his feet and stated “Move.” Otabek instructed, looming over Yuri. Without thinking Yuri obeyed, shifted himself, up and across the bed, letting Otabek lay down beside him.

Otabek lay on his side, reaching his hand out, he placed it on Yuri’s cheek. “Yura, what are we doing?” Otabek looked sad and Yuri couldn’t understand why. His head was still groggy with and pleasure so he isn’t actually sure what thoughts lead to his next action.

Yuri shifted to his side, moved in and snuggled into Otabek’s chest, forcing one of his legs in between Otabek’s, he lent his head on his chest, just under Otabek’s chin. “This.” Yuri mumbled into Otabek’s chest as warm arms wrapped around him in a hug. Otabek chuckled into Yuri’s hair.

“Alright, this then. Sleep well Yura, we will talk tomorrow.”

And The Dragon Will Come When He Hears The Drum

Chapter 3 - rage alone isn't fuel enough to enable me to fly

Back to the Beginning <Previous Chapter / Next Chapter >  AO3

(TW: headaches, extreme cold, numbness, toxic family relationships, flashbacks, mention of a corpse)

(The title of this chapter comes from "Double Helix Kyrie" by Raymond Luczak)

Janus flew through the night without stopping. It had started snowing in earnest after the first hour or so, making his muscles stiff and decreasing visibility. He’d almost run into a snow-capped peak at one point, but the higher he flew, the more volatile the winds became. It was exhausting. Janus had to beat his wings twice as hard to go half as far as he normally would amidst the growing storm. He smelled the air often, on the lookout for any sort of static build up in the clouds. Dragons were notorious for attracting lightning while in the air.

When he at last arrived at the distant village, he couldn't feel his wings at all. Approaching the ground for a landing in the snow-covered meadow behind the healer’s modest cottage, Janus’s legs buckled beneath him and he hit the snow with a thunderous thud. He tried to fold his wings against his back, but the muscles wouldn’t respond, instead content to tremble and be useless. The icy wind slipped beneath his wings and, despite his best efforts, filled them like parachutes, sending him skidding snout-over-tail into the trees at the edge of the clearing.

“Janus?!” a voice shouted over the howling wind. Through the snow, he saw the disheveled healer holding a flickering lantern, shirt half-tucked and feet shoved shoddily into untied boots. Janus needed to shift, but he couldn’t focus long enough with the wind threatening to pluck him off the ground, and his mind threatening unconsciousness. If he passed out, he’d be stuck as a dragon until he came to.

Emile tromped through the knee-deep snow, one hand raised against the blizzard. “Did you fly in this? Janus, you could have been hurt!”

I’m not the one you should be worried about, he spoke to the healer’s mind. At last getting one of his wings under control by shoving up against a tree and crumpling it into place. The other caught another gust of wind and wrenched back, the muscles in his back and shoulders tweaking painfully.

Setting the lantern down, Emile scrambled up Janus’s shoulder—a foolhardy attempt that, with one fatal slip, could have ended with them both stranded out in the snow—reaching precariously far and secured his hands around the first major joint in his wings, dragging them down toward his body. With a lull in the howling winds, Janus at last closed his trembling wings.

Before he could succumb to unconsciousness, Janus made one last-ditch effort to shift. His form shrank instantly, and Emile let out a surprised cry. The healer landed on top of Janus, knocking all the wind out him.

“Oh no! Janus, why did you wait for me to—oh jeez, are you okay?” he fretted, scrambling off of Janus and brushing the snow off him.

“Inside,” he croaked, trying to roll over, to crawl, something. His arms wouldn’t listen to him. They just hung there uselessly, throbbing in the snow. The middle of a blizzard was no place to explain what had happened. Besides, Emile was starting to shake. He wasn’t even wearing a coat. Janus would be fine, the fire inside him more than enough to keep him warm all night if he had to, but the foolishly kind mortal had come out here in nothing more than day clothes.

“Right. Of course,” he said, hooking his hands beneath Janus’s arms and dragging him through the snow toward the cottage. Emile fell several times, slipping in the slush, but didn’t give up.

Janus passed out before they reached the house.

* * * * * * * * * *

Roman was an obstinate prince, and he knew it well. Enough, in fact, that it didn’t surprise him that his sister took advantage of him being sedated to pack up camp and start the brigade’s course back toward the castle. They’d traveled through the night—they must have, given the plush bed Roman was laying in and the faint rays of morning light streaming through gossamer curtains to his left. His head pounded worse than any hangover he’d suffered before, as if someone were driving a metal spike through his eye socket with every beat of his heart.

Squinting through the pain, Roman found himself alone in his quarters, dressed in clean, satin sleep clothes. The fireplace on the opposite wall was empty and cold. The pale stone walls loomed over him, coming together in ribbed vaults at their apex. On the left wall hung various swords and daggers for him to practice with whenever he pleased—and he often did.

His eyes finished their wander around the room at the grand bookshelf near the curtained window. Logan’s books. Roman tried to swallow, but couldn’t get past the lump in his throat. The warlock had been content reading in the palace library, but Roman had used any excuse to be around Logan.

You stole all the books on sorcery?

I didn’t steal them. Just relocated them.

Into your room?

Is that a problem?

Roman remembered Logan’s smile then. He so rarely smiled. It had become a sort of mission for the prince to bring a smile, however faint, to that studious face.

Roman heaved a shuddering breath, biting back the urge to dissolve into hysterics again. Why was no one around? Surely Patton, or even an attendant would be tasked with watching him. He was injured after all.

Who am I kidding? he thought, resigned. My parents would throw a ball if I dropped dead. One less thing for them to worry about.

As if on cue, the door to his chambers opened and a herald stepped through. Roman groaned and pulled one of his many pillows over his face in preparation.

“The Queen is here for an audience with Prince Roman,” the stuffy man announced. Roman flipped him off from beneath the pillow. The herald scoffed and left, the soft click of the queen’s shoes replacing him.

“That isn’t very princely of you, Roman,” she tutted before he could lower his hand.

“Apologies,” he muttered, feigning nonchalance. In truth, being around his mother in such a vulnerable state sent cold fear dripping down his spine. He had nothing to threaten her with.

“Oh, really,” she huffed, plucking the pillow away from his face and tossing it to the floor. “Don’t be so dramatic. Raila told me what happened. Warlocks die all the time. The fools are always overtaxing themselves in battle, leaving themselves vulnerable. It’s too bad, though. Yours lasted far longer than any of mine have,” the queen said, inspecting her nails.

Roman knew she was trying to get a rise out of him, but knowing her agenda didn’t make her words any less infuriating.

“What can I do for you, mother?” he asked, murderously pleasant.

She stroked his cheek with a sharp-nailed hand. “Is it so unbelievable that I wanted to check up on you, dear?”

Roman suppressed a shiver, meeting her gaze defiantly. She pursed her lips, hand pausing on his jaw, unimpressed by his silence.

“Right,” she said, giving his cheek a rough pat that Roman flinched against, despite his best efforts. “Don’t lounge around all day. I’ll expect you at dinner.”

With that said, the queen left.

Roman let out an explosive sigh, running his hands down his face. He swung his legs out from under his blankets and over the side of the bed, forcing himself up into a seat. The room lurched, his head pounding anew. It took several minutes before Roman figured he could stand without immediately collapsing.

There was a knock at the door. “Your Highness?” Patton called through the door.

“What do you want?” he snapped, leaning against his bedpost.

The healer opened the door and stepped inside. “I came to remove the healing sigil, Your Highness,” he explained, holding up his bag. “It should have done its job by now.”

“Healing sigil…?” Roman said.

“I inscribed one on the journey last night,” Patton said with an amused smile. “If you would remove your shirt, Your Highness.”

Roman unbuttoned his top and found an inky black symbol in the middle of his chest. “I’ve never seen you use one of these before,” he said curiously.

“You’d broken three ribs,” Patton explained, motioning for Roman to sit on his bed. He unclasped his medical bag and rifled through it. “I simply figured you wouldn’t want to be stuck in the castle for six weeks while they healed.”

Roman shuddered at the thought. Unable to escape his parents or siblings for a month and a half? He’d rather fight a hundred dragons. Patton took out a bottle of clear liquid and a small metal device that looked like a safety pin with a thimble attached to the end.

He paused, looking up. “How’s your head?”

“Terrible.”

Patton plucked a tiny vial from his bag and motioned for Roman to hold out his hand. He tapped out about a teaspoon’s worth of cobalt blue powder. “Let this dissolve on your tongue. It should help.”

Roman sniffed it quizzically. “What is it?”

“If I wanted to kill you, Your Highness, I would have done it out by the stream,” Patton sighed.

He has a point, Roman figured and downed the powder. Blueberry flavor exploded across his tongue and he almost coughed.

“I’m going to take your pulse,” Patton said, setting an open notebook on the side table. “I can take it on your wrist or neck. Which would you prefer?”

Roman held out his arm, not keen on the idea of letting someone’s hand that close to his throat. Patton took his hand and pressed two fingers into his wrist, just below his thumb, lips moving soundlessly as he counted to himself. Speaking of throats, the prince noticed Patton’s own was free of any sort of bruising or redness.

“How’s your neck?” Roman asked as casually as he could manage, as if he hadn’t literally strangled the man less than twenty-four hours ago.

Patton stiffened, ignoring him for a moment as he finished his count. “Well,” he said, dropping Roman’s hand and scribbling something down in his notebook without looking up at him, “I am a healer, so it’s doing better than it would have ordinarily.”

Roman squirmed a bit. “Right. Well, um, that’s good.”

“I need to listen to your breathing to ensure the ribs have healed properly,” Patton continued clinically. “May I place my ear on your chest?”

“Why do you keep asking me if you can do things?” Roman chuckled.

Patton still didn’t meet his eye. “Because you and your siblings have a propensity for attacking those who touch you without warning. May I?”

“Knock yourself out.”

The healer bent down and pressed his ear to one side of Roman’s chest, the skin-to-skin contact making the hair on the back of his neck rise.

“Deep breath,” the healer muttered. Roman obeyed, biting his cheek against the memories threatening to flood his mind. Logan and him laying in bed together, the warlock’s head resting against his chest, just as Patton’s was now.

“And another,” the healer said, shifting to the other side of his chest, right over his no doubt frantic heart. Roman gripped the blankets until his knuckles were white, forcing himself to take a deep breath.

Patton pulled away, glancing down at Roman’s fists. “Was there any pain while you were breathing?”

“No.”

“Good. I’ll remove the sigil, then.” He uncorked the bottle and poured some into his palm. It came out slowly, a syrup of some kind. Patton spread the strange liquid onto Roman’s chest, careful not to smudge the sigil. He flinched, surprised by how cold it was.

“May I ask you something, Your Highness?” the healer asked softly, almost unsure.

“What is it?”

Patton paused, his fingertips hovering just over the prince’s collar bone. “Have you ever apologized for something?”

Roman snorted. “Of course I have. I apologize to my parents all the time.”

“Other than the king and queen.”

Roman thought back. “I think I apologized to Reid once,” he said. His older brother had had to break one of his fingers to force it out of him, but it was an apology nonetheless. “Why?”

Patton pressed his lips into a hard line. “Nevermind,” he muttered, holding the small metal device just above his chest. “Prepare yourself.”

Before Roman could even open his mouth, Patton squeezed both sides of the pin. Sparks flew from within the thimble-like bowl, and the syrup ignited with a sharp hiss and a flash of green flame. In an instant, it was gone, leaving his chest dry and bare of any markings.

Roman yelped, scrambling back over the mattress. Patton fought a smile.

“You didn’t warn me on purpose,” he accused, heart racing.

Patton blinked at him innocently. “Would you like an apology, Your Highness?”

“Get out.”

“Certainly.” The healer grabbed his things and went to leave, giving a stiff bow.

“Wait!”

Patton hesitated. “Yes, Your Highness?”

Roman swallowed, trying not to sound too desperate. “Logan. Where is he?”

Patton’s expression softened somewhat, his shoulder’s relaxing. “He’s safe and cleaned up in my office. I even put a preservation spell on him.”

“Move him to the dungeons,” Roman said, lowering his voice. “As discretely as you can. Don’t let anyone see.”

Patton’s brow furrowed. “The… dungeons, my prince?”

Roman tore his signet ring from his finger and shoved it into Patton’s hands. “Show this to the dungeon guard and they’ll let you pass. Please,” he begged—perhaps for the first time to someone of a lower social standing than him.

Patton nodded, taking and ring and exiting the room. Roman’s headache was almost completely gone, thanks to that mysterious powder.

It was time to visit his baby brother.

* * * * * * * * * *

Remus paced the cave for what must have been the thousandth time. Virgil lay in his dragon form, eyes half-lidded, panting slightly. The sword hilt still stuck out from between his ribs tauntingly. He’d figured pretty quickly that the blade hadn’t pierced Virgil’s heart. He wouldn’t be alive right now if it had. What was more likely, he’d simply been insanely lucky and only punctured one lung.

Morning light peeked over the mountain peaks, the sky empty. No sign of Janus. The snow had cleared up, at least.

It made Remus twitchy with rage at the thought of that snot-nosed prince injuring, and possibly eventually killing, his best friend’s partner. Janus would probably die of grief. And then Remus would be alone. Again.

Giving in, Remus started toward the cave entrance. “Don’t die while I’m out, Virgil.”

Where are you going? he asked weakly, his tail twitching. There was human blood still smearing its spikes.

“To capture a prince.” He didn’t want to leave Virgil alone, but it wasn’t going to change anything if he did end up dying before Janus got back. Remus would just have to sit and watch.

Instead of arguing, Virgil quipped, Capture? I thought you wanted to rip his head off.

Remus reached the edge of the cliff then turned back, shrugging. “I like to play with my food.” And with that, he tipped backwards into the air with a salute.