#naprowrimo 2019

[lannpaige-blog]

NaProWriMo 2019 Prompt List

Day Eight Prompt: ivory handled moons

PG-13 - Warnings for Death Mentions, Swearing, and Violence Mentions.

Characters: Virgil, Logan, Patton, and Roman

Word Count: 2725

Okay, listen, I had no clue what to do with this so here. Take it.

This is a superhero AU.

Prinxiety and mentions of Logicality.

Ivory Handled Moons

Virgil heard the hum of the elevator and knew Logan was back before the chrome doors even opened.

About time.

Virgil finished his task and made it back to the hidden hideout an hour ago. He didn’t mind sitting there talking with Patton, the only one between the three of them that didn’t dress in a skin tight suit and jump around the city fighting crime, but an hour of not hearing from Logan was way too long. The guy was punctual. More than. He got on Virgil more than one for being even a few minutes late back to the underground base. It didn’t matter that Logan owned the place and knew the layout better than Virgil did. Logan insisted that he be on time. He wouldn’t lie to himself, he was worried about Logan running into trouble, but Patton insisted he’d be all right.

Turned out, Patton was right.

Virgil turned the office chair around, away from the large security camera display, and towards the silver coated doors that opened soon after. Sure enough, Logan stepped out, still clad in his silver and black body-tight suit with the silver dueling crescents in the center. He hadn’t bothered to take of his black mask either, which dipped back into the cowl of his uniform and covered all traces of his short brown hair.

“You sure took your sweet time,” Virgil said, a smirk dancing on his lips as he leaned forward, his arms propping onto the back of the chair that his chest was pressed into.

“Apologies,” Logan said as he stepped towards the computer and, as a result, Virgil and Patton, who took that time to turn in the chair he sat in like a normal person, “I had an interesting encounter while I was out. Patton, do you have any information regarding a hero by the name of The Crimson Prince?”

“Yeah!” Patton said. Virgil saw the beaming man jerk back to the computer. Virgil turned his own chair slowly to face the computer screens as Patton typed on the LCD keyboard display. After a second, several pictures and a file popped up on screen. The words were big enough for Virgil to read. He didn’t bother. Instead, his eyes caught the costume this particular hero decided to wear. It was a white, red, and gold ensemble. Mostly white, but the hero wore a red cape that looked as if it was designed to dramatically billow in the wind at even the slightest of breezes. The chest, instead of having a logo, looked like the gold trim and stitching were taken out of some kind of fairy tale more than any superhero comic. His face was covered in some kind of red and white theater mask which covered his eyes with black lenses, as well as hid the area around his eyes and the left side of his face. At his right side, the guy had an ivory sheath with a matching ivory sword handle. While the detailing on the hilt and sheath were gold, matching the touches on the man’s uniform, Virgil hoped the blade was the traditional silver.

Virgil hoped this not because gold would be tacky. The whole costume was tacky, if he was honest. No, his hope stemmed from the uncomfortable tightness in his stomach as he stared at the man’s frame.

He knew the broad shoulders and power stance. He knew the smirk traced along the man’s lips. He knew that jawline, that sharp nose, that pristine wave of brown hair that peeked over the top of the mask. His hands tightened against the back of the chair. His mind rotated over the possibility. His ears picked up both his heartbeat and Patton’s chipper words.

“The Crimson Prince started getting some attention a few weeks ago,” Patton said, “Small stuff. Stopped a robbery, prevented a car theft, retrieved some stolen purses and returned them to police, that sort of thing. Then, a couple days ago, he intercepted a whole truckload of stolen weapons and brought them to police. Remy got the report from his boss and added it to the system. Wanna see it?”

“Not at the moment, no,” Logan said, “Do you know anything specific about his approach to crime fighting? Perhaps his morals or any background with which we can use to determine what has led him down this particular path?”

“Nope!” Patton said, “All I know is what Remy’s told me and you know he’s not good with that stuff. I can ask Emile to take a look if you want.”

“I believe that would be a wise course of action.”

“Why?” Virgil finally asked, his voice deep as he turned his gaze to Logan, “He attack you or something?”

“No, quite the opposite,” Logan answered, “He intercepted me on the way back here and voiced his desire to speak with me. I assumed that he wished to join us, as many of these up-and-coming heroes often do. Instead, he thanked me for inspiring him to take this path and handed me this.”

Logan tucked his hand into his tight glove and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. With a calm hand, he held it out for Virgil. Virgil took it with a light tremor dancing across his own fingers. He opened the paper and saw, inside, printed text. Not just any text, though. A poem. Virgil only read the first line:

Wielder of ivory handled moons;

Anxiety’s claws ripped at Virgil’s stomach and clamored towards his heart. He felt the waves of nausea come over him. No. Hell no.

Virgil dropped the letter, lurched from the chair, and ran over to his backpack, leaned against the wall where he’d left it before he changed into his own tight outfit. He opened the smallest pouch in the front, yanked out his cell phone, and brought it over to the computer, his steps and movements jerky and frantic. He turned on the screen, opened the gallery, and handed the device to Patton.

“Take these pictures and cross reference them with the ones you have of The Crimson Prince,” Virgil said. He could feel his voice and throat tighten around the words.

“Who-” Patton started.

“Just do it!”

Patton took the phone and plugged it in. He pulled off copies of images Virgil treasured - images of selfies, of candid shots in his living room, of dramatic poses in open fields, of cleverly photographed shots, of him - and compared them to the numerous images they hand on file. There were more than Virgil expected, but it gave him a chance to see if it was really a match. Seconds felt like hours as his mind begged, pleaded, for this man to not be the crimson clad hero he’d just heard about.

The program stopped. A number appeared. Virgil’s breath caught.

97% Match.

“Guess he’s a guy,” Patton said.

“It seems that way, but we cannot be certain until we are able to completely see the hero’s face.”

“It’s him,” Virgil growled, his frozen fear melting to a heated anger so fierce he felt the flames lick against his face.

“Who is he?” Patton asked.

“He’s my goddamn boyfriend.” Virgil lurched towards Patton. “Give me my phone back, I’ve got to-”

“Virgil, calm down,” Logan said.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Virgil yelled, “That idiot is going to get himself killed doing shit like this! I can’t let him-”

“You cannot use your phone to communicate such a message to him,” Logan said, “It would not be safe for either you or your boyfriend if the message were to get into the wrong hands. I would be willing to invite him here if you wish to discuss the matter in a private setting. It would not be difficult to arrange, given the conversation he and I had this evening about a possible alliance.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Virgil snapped.

Logan nodded, turned, and headed to the elevator. Virgil let out a sigh that was covered but the opening and shutting of the elevator door. The movement, however, wasn’t concealed by anything. Neither was his shaking left hand clawing through his own hair, which was temporarily colored back to match his own starlight inspired wear.

“Does he know about you being a superhero?” Patton asked.

“No! I didn’t tell him anything!” Virgil yelled. He started pacing. “What the hell is he thinking?! He started learning how to fight with a sword for cosplay. Cosplay! That is not going to translate well into this kind of crime fighting! He should know there’s super dangerous people out there! He reads the news!”

“A lot of people try their hands at being a hero,” Patton said.

“Yeah, and a lot of stupid people get themselves killed in the process!” Virgil yelled, “He is not going to be on that list!”

“You’re right, he won’t,” Patton said, “‘cause you’ll be there to protect him.”

Virgil glared at him. “He will if I don’t stop him from doing this!”

“You’re not going to be able to stop him, Virgil,” Patton said. His voice almost mirrored that matter-of-fact tone that Logan had. Virgil blinked at him and lifted his head. “I tried to stop Logan when he decided to fight crime too but he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. We argued for so long over it. Then I saw how much good he was doing and I decided to help him instead. I don’t like violence and I can’t fight but I thought that if I could help him, maybe I could keep him safe and the city would be better for it. This hideout was his idea, but me being here was mine. He didn’t want me involved, but I didn’t give him a choice. You and your boyfriend can do that too.”

“But he’s not an experienced fighter,” Virgil said, his voice dying down but his anger refusing to subside.

“Then you and Logan can train him,” Patton said, “You guys train every day. I’m sure he’d be happy to train with you if you gave him the chance to.”

Virgil crossed his arms and glared at the ground. A lot of things Patton was saying was right. No, he couldn’t stop his boyfriend from doing this stupid shit. In truth, his boyfriend couldn’t stop him either, so Virgil supposed that was fair. He also could keep his boyfriend safe through all this if he convinced Logan that keeping him around was a good idea. But he still didn’t like it. He didn’t like the idea of losing the man he ran to when his panic attacks got back. He also didn’t like the idea of losing the normalcy they’d maintained over the past two years. What would he think when he found out Virgil was hiding this from him? What would he think about the lies Virgil told about his scars? His bruises? His scratches? What would he think about Virgil’s lies about where he’d been and who he’d been with? There were worse things than being a superhero, but Virgil was sure he’d be pissed anyway.

With that thought, Virgil stalked off towards the training room.

“I’m going to blow off some steam,” Virgil said, “When they get here, you tell Logan to let Roman in the training room alone.”

“Oh, Roman’s a nice name!” Patton called. Virgil ignored him, crossed into the training room, and closed the door behind him. There was a lot of open space, some exercise equipment, various dummy weapons, but, most importantly to Virgil in that moment, a punching bag. Virgil pulled his mask back on, tightened his fists, and started throwing punches. Each punch felt like raw anger and unfiltered anxiety. Each one smacked against uncertainty and fear. The cacophony of beats brought a monotone song issued by waves of emotion that altered from anger to sadness to fear and back again in rapid succession.

The door opened. Virgil threw a couple more punches, stopped, and reached his hand out to stop the swaying bag. His chest heaved. Sweat tricked down his temple and traced his jawline. He didn’t dare look.

“I believe my assistant wanted to speak with me,” Logan said, “You can speak to Stellar Starlight about the matters I wished to discuss with you.”

“Thanks,” the other voice said. Virgil could tell from the delighted tone that it was Roman. There was no question about it now. His fingers twitched against the bag. The door shut. Silence feel between them.

“So-” Roman started.

Virgil held up his other had, palm out, fingers splayed. Silence fell between them again. Virgil caught his breath, though it didn’t really feel like it. He could feel a darkness crawl against his skin. So many questions, so many statements, so many wants and needs from this interaction and all of it boiled down to the first question.

“Why are you doing this?” Virgil did his best to disguise his voice. He lowered his hand. “Why are you choosing to be a superhero?”

“I want to save people!”

“That’s it? You know there are hundreds of morons out there that do that same exact thing for the same exact reason that get themselves killed, right? You don’t get to just be a hero to save people. You have to want it for a reason. So, what is your reason, Prince?”

Silence. Virgil could feel the uncertain anger boiling under Roman’s skin all the way across the room. He anticipated yelling, screaming, a fight. Instead, he got a sigh.

“I,” Roman started. He hesitated. Even from that one syllable, Virgil could tell he was about to bare his soul. Virgil braced himself. “I have this person that’s important to me. I want to keep him safe.”

Virgil stayed quiet. He learned from Logan a long time ago that if you wanted more information out of a guy, you didn’t talk. So he let the silence linger. And as Virgil predicted, Roman opened his mouth once more and the words came pouring out.

“He’s the most important person I have. He’s the only one that has always been there for me when I needed someone. Normally you could repay those favors with kindness or something, but he’s so scared all the time about the violence going on and I want to help him out. I’ve spent the last two years training so I can go out there and clean up the streets a little. I’m hoping that it’ll let him walk around without constantly looking over his shoulder. He’s always doing that and I... I want him to feel like he doesn’t have to. I want him to know that there are heroes out there trying to keep people safe. I can tell him that they’d keep him safe all I want, but unless I’m out there doing it, I could never be able to really promise him that. With this, I know I can keep that promise now, even if he doesn’t believe it.”

Virgil finally looked to stare at the other masked man. Even behind that painted mask of The Crimson Prince, he could see that pressed frown and furrowed brow. Normally, when Virgil saw that look, it was accompanied with some kind of gentle touch on the hand, a nuzzle, a kiss, something. But here, with these disguises, there was nothing but distance.

“You’d die for him?” Virgil asked finally, his voice tottering between disguise and tears.

“If I had to, I would give my life to keep him safe.”

After one long, silent stare, Virgil sighed and let his eyes drop. Then he steeled himself with a deep breath and reached up. With one slow, fluid motion, Virgil peeled his mask over his head and let the fabric drop against the cowl of his uniform. Then his eyes flicked up. He caught the slacked mouth on the right side of Roman’s face, the tense shoulders, the shattered bravado falling into slackened, red gloved fingers.

“How about now?” Virgil asked.

There was a pause. Then, in one dramatic motion, Roman tore of his mask, closed the distance between them, pulled Virgil close, and planted one passion infused kiss right against Virgil’s lips. Virgil only let himself hesitate for one second more. Then he accepted the kiss and everything that came with it, uncertain future and all.

#sanders sides #prinxiety #ts virgil #ts roman #virgil sanders #roman sanders #virgil #roman #logan #patton #fan work #fan fiction #my fan fiction #naprowrimo 2019 #naprowrimo #space based superhero au #death mentions #violence mentions #swear words

[lannpaige-blog]

NaProWriMo 2019 Prompt List

Day Fifteen Prompt: not a queen, a king

PG - Warnings for Kids Crying.

Characters: Roman, Logan, Patton, and Virgil

Pairing: Royality

Word Count: 1072

This is a prequel to yesterday’s prompt fill, Knuckles and Honey. If you like this, I highly recommend checking it out too.

Not A Queen, A King

“Not a queen, a king. I want a king.”

Roman was so sure about those words four months ago when he first spoke them. He was still confident in them two months ago when letters and poems written by young men arrived like crashing waves on the shoreline of his bedroom, each one begging the prince for his hand so they could better their kingdoms, their lives, their futures. Even a month ago he was still certain he’d made the right choice as he pared down his choices from three royals, to two, and then, finally, one. The one. The last few weeks he still managed to hang on to that conviction through the growing excitement of everyone around him.

Now, the day was here. His chosen prince was arriving. Roman was finally going to meet the one he chose. His partner. His king.

All of Roman’s confidence drained out of him the moment he woke up that morning.

Hours later, under the mid-afternoon sun, his certainty still hadn’t returned. He felt its absence in his tense shoulders and his trembling hands which clutched into tight fists behind his back. Many of his people lined the street below, their excitement obvious as their light chatter shifted into a vocal ruckus so disarranged that no words could be derived. Roman wanted to hear even the slightest speck of gossip, but all he could make out was a clattering of noise and nonsense.

“I do not believe I have ever seen you look quite so tense, my prince.”

Roman lifted his chin up ever-so-slightly to resist shooting a glare towards the small voice that tickled against his right ear. The wind fairy perched on his shoulder wouldn’t like that Roman didn’t keep appearances and the last thing he needed at that moment was another lecture.

“You’d be tense to if you were meeting your future husband for the first time,” Roman whispered.

“Yes, I suppose you are correct. However, you did choose this particular prince, so at least you are aware of what to expect. There are others that are not quite as fortunate as you are.”

“That doesn’t make this any less nerve-racking, glass lens.”

The fairy sighed at the nickname. Any response the tiny creature had to it, though, was silenced when the excited cry of people rose a few streets away. Roman’s eyes flicked to the top of the road. There, past the gates and entering the square, was a horse and carriage flanked by a mixture of Roman’s and the other prince’s men. People flocked around the horses and carriage, but dared not impede the movement towards the palace, towards Roman. Roman swallowed. His heart remained lodged in his throat.

The carriage turned in front of the palace and stopped. Excited cries fell into whispers. A man clad in light blue, a gentleman Roman had never seen, slipped off of a white horse, walked to the carriage door, and opened it. After a second of hesitation, Roman saw a black booted leg step out. It was followed by a thin, somewhat short body covered in light blues and whites, pale skin, and waves of curly brown hair stacked into a clustered nest that almost looked purposefully built. The young man stepped down onto the street, turned to the man, and passed him a smile. The man gave a deep bow.

Roman took a few steps down to greet the prince, but stopped when movement in the crowd not far from the foreign prince caught Roman’s eye. Figures shifted, some words grew louder, a small child was pushed through the crowd, fell, and cried on impact with the ground. Wails cut through the near silence. Roman heard the rise of a woman’s voice, though the words were too soft under the siren-like screaming to be understood.

After a fraction of a second, Roman turned his head back to the prince. He prepared to take the next step, but stopped when he saw the prince turn and go to the child. White glove hands reached for the boy. All other sound beside the kid’s crying stopped.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, kiddo,” the prince said. Roman watched this prince gather the kid in his arms and stand. He moved slowly from side to side and gave more assurances for a moment. The cries lowered into soft sobs, then sniffles. Roman watched a smile blossom on the prince’s face.

“I’m so sorry, my lord,” Roman heard a woman say. He saw the hands of one of the local bakers reach out for the boy, which the prince handed over with that warm smile still present.

“It’s okay,” the prince said, “I’m just glad he wasn’t hurt. We wouldn’t want sweet little kids getting hurt on a happy day like today, would we, kiddo?”

The prince reached out and pressed his pointer finger into the young kid’s nose. The kid giggled. The soft sound of that laughter seemed to bring a wash of calm over Roman. The others caught it too as light whispers and a few giggles rose from the crowd. Roman let his legs guide him to the other prince then. Once he came into arm’s reach, Roman bowed at the waist and extended his left arm for the other prince to take.

“Welcome to the kingdom, Prince Patton,” Roman said.

Patton turned to face him then, smile faded ever-so-slightly. Then the smile returned, a touch of something lingering on the lips. Uncertainty, perhaps. Or fear. Regardless, Patton reached and took his hand. Even through their gloves, Roman could feel the other prince’s natural warmth across his palm.

“Thank you, my prince,” Patton answered, “It’s an honor to be here under these circumstances, or any circumstances, really. I know I said that in my letters but I really mean it. Thanks for... everything.”

Roman smiled at the informality of the last statement. The fact that his fairy advisor huffed on his shoulder made him smile even more.

Oh, was Roman glad he picked this prince. Maybe their union wouldn’t be filled with the romance he desired. Maybe he wouldn’t learn to fall for that dashing smile and that curly mass of hair. Maybe they wouldn’t truly live happily ever after. But they could have something kind in this union. Something sweet. Something delightful. Roman was sure of it.

Now he couldn’t wait to see what the rest of their lives had in store.

#sanders sides #royality #ts roman #ts patton #ts logan #fan work #fan fiction #my fan fiction #naprowrimo 2019 #naprowrimo #roman #patton #logan

[lannpaige-blog]

NaProWriMo 2019 Prompt List

Day Eighteen Prompt: stardust and safety

PG - Warnings for abuse mentions, angst, bruises, and crying.

Characters: Virgil and Logan

Pairing: Analogical

Word Count: 419

This is an AU.

Stardust and Safety

Virgil ran. His feet hauled him down sidewalks, through darkness, under beaming streetlights freckled with moths and other light seeking creatures. Creatures like Virgil. But those lights weren’t the ones he needed.

He crossed through the park, under leagues of inky night blackness, and entered the small forest curving the edge. He ran the path, cut off of it halfway, and forged his own haphazard way through the trees. He traced the steps his past self made through the thicket and under branched until he found the little house situated there. There were no lights on. That didn’t matter.

With a shaking body, Virgil reached the door and jerked it open. The hinges squealed. Virgil pulled himself inside, shut the door with it’s protest, and leaned against it. His lungs heaved. His body shook. His legs gave way. He slid down the surface of the door and curled up. Frantic sounds left his lips as he tried to summon words, summon Him.

“St-stardust,” Virgil whimpered through haggard breaths. No. It wasn’t enough. He inhaled so sharply the air stabbed his lungs. Virgil trembled. Tears rose. He tightened into himself and wrapped his arms around his legs.

“St-st... star...”

He couldn’t do it. The words wouldn’t come. Virgil sobbed. No, no, no, he needed this. Needed Him. If he couldn’t manage the words, how would he know? He wouldn’t. And Virgil would remain alone. He couldn’t have that. He brought in air once more to force the strangled words.

A hand touched his arm.

Virgil’s head jerked up. Where darkness had been, light was. Starlight, speckled across night sky skin before him. Ebbs and flows of spacial graphics eased in spirals underneath the shining lights. Along the curves of that portable space was a humanoid body, facial features, lighter lips, a strong nose, glistening black eyes that each held a star of their own. The head lifted. Another hand reached. It brushed along the heavy purple that no doubt marred Virgil’s own cheek.

“You are safe here, Virgil,” the night sky whispered. Virgil sobbed, untangled himself, and lurched towards the galactic body. Arms wrapped around him. He was pulled close to the celestial space. Virgil could feel the tendrils of heat and cold fight for power along the swirling masses. He latched on to the coverings on top, the lackluster purples and navy blues that made up the form’s cloths, and let himself cry.

The world outside that little house was gone. All that remained was his stardust and safety.

#sanders sides #analogical #ts virgil #ts logan #virgil #logan #fan work #fan fiction #my fan fiction #naprowrimo #naprowrimo 2019 #triggering content #abuse mentions #mentions of abuse #bruises #crying #angst

[lannpaige-blog]

NaProWriMo 2019 Prompt List

Day Three Prompt: empty cups

PG - Warnings for Angst, Accidental Eavesdropping, Sad Roman, Sad Patton, and Self-Deprecating Thoughts

Characters: Patton and overheard Roman and Logan

Word Count: 701

This runs in parallel to this Logince fan fiction I wrote specifically for context to this prompt fill.

Spoilers for Selfishness v. Selflessness | Sanders Sides.

Empty Cups

Dinner was ready.

Given the routine in the mindscape, Logan was apt to come down to the commons kitchen at any moment. Yet, he didn’t. Neither did Roman, who would often come traipsing in after the logical side with a sparkle of love in his eyes when he saw Logan already at the table. Virgil would come in last, halfway into a conversation. Each of them, though, did the same thing first. They filled their cups.

The cups remained empty, the plates untouched, the kitchen silent, and Patton alone.

Well, they did have a big day. That whole courtroom drama got them all riled up, even Logan. So, maybe they were all resting. If that was the case, then Patton needed to go check on them. They needed their rest, sure, but they also needed food. A balance of both could help push them through the day, especially Roman. After how much he gave up, Roman had to be feeling awful about the whole thing, more so than anyone else. Patton wasn’t about to let him go without eating and rest. If anything, Patton was going to push it more the next couple days, just to make sure Roman felt loved. Logan could do that, sure, their relationship called for that, but Patton could provide that too. And he would, just like he always did, with a little extra dad love on top, just to make sure.

Patton made his way upstairs to their bedrooms. All four doors were shut. Logan’s plain wood door was the closest to the stairs, opposite Patton’s own blue one. He knocked - five delicate taps - and waited. No one responded. He reached for the knob, then stopped. No, wait. No need to check. He might be with Roman. Maybe they were cuddled together. He didn’t know if those two cuddled, but he certainly would if he was in the kind of partnership those two were in. Patton, with a playful bite at his bottom lip, moved to the red door next to Logan’s and prepared to knock.

“It sucks!” Roman yelled. Patton winced at the sound and pulled his hand back to his chest. “Thomas doesn’t listen to me. He listens to Patton. What does Patton want, what does Patton think, what does Patton need. It’s ridiculous. What about what we want?! What about us?!”

Oh.

Patton brought his right hand up to meet his left as he took another step away from the door. His mind frantically looked for a solution, a fix, a way to reach Roman and explain that he didn’t mean to make Roman feel like his wants weren’t important. If anything, they were just as important. But the wedding and Thomas and all the guilty feelings that went with not going, they clouded that empathy Patton was so proud to have. He was so focused on what he believed was right that he didn’t think about the pains of the others.

He wanted to apologize, but he heard Logan’s soft voice on the other side of the door. Logan was there. He was Roman’s comfort. Patton didn’t have a role here. He was just the bad guy. He was the one that hurt everyone.

He sped through the hall and down the stairs, back into the kitchen. His lungs heaved. Tears pricked at his eyes.

No. This isn’t what he wanted. He wanted to help Thomas. Instead, he messed everything up. He made everything worse. How many times had this happened? How many times did the others get ignored while he got what he wanted and needed? How many times did they have this same conversation while Patton wasn’t around?

Patton stared at the plates, the cups, the untouched food, and let his mind wonder to the ultimate question, the one that tasted so bitter against his tongue that suddenly food didn’t seem good anymore.

Did any of the other sides even like him?

Patton stared at the empty cups. Then he turned, went back up the stairs, and into his room. There was the initial burst of happiness as he closed his door, but he ignored it as he collapsed on the couch and let himself sob, alone.

#sanders sides #patton #ts patton #patton sanders #ts spoilers #spoilers #fan work #fan fiction #my fan fiction #naprowrimo 2019 #naprowrimo #triggering content #crying #angst #self-deprecating thoughts #self-deprecation #eavesdropping

[lannpaige-blog]

NaProWriMo 2019 Prompt List

Day Ten Prompt: suffer, I won’t

PG-13 - Warnings for Angst, Past Break-Ups, and Swear Words.

Characters: Logan, Patton, Virgil, and Roman

Pairing: Logicality (not the break-up mentioned)

Word Count: 1322

No spoilers. This is an AU.

I heard Maybe It Was Me by Sody for the first time, and it inspired this. So do some past emotions regarding a break-up I still haven’t quiet dealt with. Projecting onto Logan it is.

Suffer, I Won’t

”Suffer.”

That was the last two words Logan heard from that man before the door was slammed shut in his face. Logan stood stunned in his own kitchen. Stun turned to sorrow as minutes turned to days. Sorrow turned to grief. Days turned to weeks. Grief turned to suffering. Weeks turned to months.

Then Logan met Patton.

It was an accident. Logan turned a corner at a library took quickly and ran into someone. Shoulders hit. The man he’d collided into tottered back, caught himself. Logan blinked up at the man’s shocked face, at those freckled features, at the round glasses knocked askew, at the loose curls that seemed out of place yet perfectly natural.

Their first words to each other were apologies.

“I apologize,” Logan said quickly.

“No, I‘m sorry,” the man answered.

They gave shy smiles. Then they passed, two bodies passing.

Logan said nothing of that first meeting to his two friends. The second, though, led to a text, two calls, and a choice to meet. Logan invited them to his own apartment - the largest of the three - for dinner and discussion. They arrived separately, but banned together to say words along the same strain of thought.

“What do you mean you didn’t ask him out?!” Roman asked, his voice a boom of thunder in the kitchen. Logan sighed over the sink where he was rinsing lettuce for their communal salad.

“I mean exactly that,” Logan answered.

“How could you lose such a wondrous opportunity!” Roman said, “He was clearly interested.”

That’s what I’m afraid of, Logan thought to himself. Such a thought should have been fleeting, but it stuck to his mind, his bones, his skin. It soured quickly, turned the air, and wrinkled the nose of Virgil, who cut into his line of sight to use the counter space and the cutting board next to the sink.

“He’s still holding you back, huh,” Virgil said. Logan looked down at the metal strainer in his hands, at green pedals, at holes that drained water. So many little holes.

"No,” Logan stated, “I refrained from inquiring about a date because I did not wish to impose.“

“If you’re going to lie, you could at least try to put a little more feeling into it,” Virgil said, “I bet Roman would be willing to give you lessons.”

“If there are going to be any lessons given, they will be given about romance!” Roman said, “You cannot keep yourself from happiness because of a man that let you go months ago without a single kind word. He’s gone now! Besides, we all know that break-up wasn’t your fault.”

“No, I do not believe that is the case,” Logan said, “Relationships involve multiple people. It would be unrealistic to place the blame of a relationship on one individual.”

“Even if that person had unrealistic expectations about his boyfriend and your relationship?” Virgil asked.

“There were other problems with our courtship.”

“Yeah, but those problems were nowhere close to the bullshit he put on you.”

“Which is why you shouldn’t consider his actions important in this new budding relationship,” Roman called. Logan heard the click of a burner starting on the stove to his left. “What he did is an anomaly, nothing more.”

“We cannot be sure of that,” Logan said.

“So you’re afraid, then.”

Logan blinked and looked at Virgil. The other man’s deep brown, near black, eyes stared back at him.

“I thought you said you were fearless,” Virgil said.

“You are aware I was inebriated at the time, correct?”

“That doesn’t mean you didn’t say it.”

Logan glared at the strainer once more. His mind teetered to the hurt still clinging to heart, to the final word embossed in his brain. Suffer. Logan sighed.

“While I will agree that it is not likely, it did happen before so there is a chance that it will happen again,” Logan said, “I do not know Patton well enough to determine if he would choose such an approach or not.”

“He seems sweet to me,” Virgil said.

“We could always make sure,” Roman answered, “Virgil and I can go into the library and go on a covert mission. I bet Remy would let us borrow some of his sunglasses.”

“I’d bet he kill you before you even finished asking,” Virgil said.

“You will do nothing of the sort in either case.” Logan sounded far harsher than he meant to. He exhaled slowly and released some of the tension in his shoulders. When had he gotten so rigid during this conversation? “It is not necessary to spy on Patton. If anything, it will alert him to the possibility that something odd is happening and I do not want such oddities directed back to me. Besides, we all know that you are not capable of any level of stealth, Roman.”

“I am, too!” Roman called.

“Really?” Virgil asked, “How’d that spy mission in the student lounge go last year?”

“It’s not my fault that his friend noticed me hiding in the corner, alright? I was concealed! He had supervision!”

“You were wearing a red hoodie and hid yourself behind some old, stringy potted plant.”

“It was cover enough!”

“Sure, Romeo, whatever you say.”

Silence. Logan let his mind wander to the hurt again, to the pain, to the suffering imposed upon him like a curse that refused to be broken. Virgil sighed next to him, chopped a few more times, and then threw the pieces into the bowl between them.

“I’m not saying you have to ask the guy out,” Virgil started.

“I am!” Roman interrupted.

“What I am saying is that you can’t keep denying yourself a chance at moving on because you’re afraid that the next guy is going to turn out to be just as crazy. Patton’s clearly your type. You’re interested. He’s interested. Maybe just agree to meet for lunch as friends or something. Or see if you have something else in common that you can meet up and do together.”

“Like date,” Roman interrupted again. Virgil sighed.

“It doesn’t have to be a date,” Virgil said, “You can just hang out. Less pressure that way and you can have time to get the know the guy a little, see if he’s got a good head on his shoulders. Plus, you said he’s new in town anyway. I’m sure he’d be happy with a friend for now.”

Logan knew Virgil was correct. He could approach Patton with a simple token of friendship at first and there were plenty of opportunities for Patton to make friends in Logan’s small circle. There was a small gaming group and another separate group for a weekly knowledge competition at the sports bar down from his own place of work. Perhaps one of these could interest Patton and allow him a chance to meet others in his new hometown.

Yet, he could not escape the coldness that draped over him at the thought of a budding romance. Would he be ready if Patton chose to ask? Would he be willing to cross over that line? Would he be ready to share his heart with another?

He didn’t know. But Logan did know he didn’t want the curse.

Suffer, he thought, I won’t suffer. Not anymore.

That evening ended with more doubts that answers, but Logan held on to that one assurance. That assurance led him to the library the next day, where he asked if the young man would be interested in joining their knowledge bowl team. That assurance led him to sitting next to the young man at the crowded table and listening to him laugh and chat wondrously with his friends. That assurance led to the next meeting and the next and the next.

Then, it led to Logan asking Patton on that first date. When Patton said yes, Logan knew the remains of the curse were finally starting to wear away.

#sanders sides #logicality #ts logan #ts patton #ts virgil #ts roman #logan #patton #virgil #roman #librarian!patton logicality au #fan work #fan fiction #my fan fiction #naprowrimo #naprowrimo 2019 #angst #swear words #break-ups

[lannpaige-blog]

NaProWriMo 2019 Prompt List

Day Seventeen Prompt: space whales

PG - Warnings for angst, death mentions, and war mentions.

Characters: Virgil, Patton, and Roman, with mentions of Logan.

Pairing: Moxiety

Word Count: 750

This is a Star Trek AU. Anyone that knows me at all will not be surprised at all.

Space Whales

“So let me get this straight,” Virgil said.

“Good luck with that,” Roman interrupted with a wink. Virgil shot him a glare and then returned his gaze to Patton, who sat upright on one of the biobeds with a wide smile on his face.

“You decided to help Logan get the space whales into the cargo bay, which you are not qualified to do, and instead of staying out of the way like you were supposed to, you went to look at one of their tails, which caused you to get smacked halfway across the cargo bay and into the wall, which Logan insisted would happen prior to you doing it, but you chose to do it anyway?”

“Yeah,” Patton said, his voice soft, almost dreamy, but not void of happiness.

“Why?”

“It was hurt!” Patton pouted, “I couldn’t just sit there and let it be hurt!”

“Then you should have waited to help it until the space whales were secure so you wouldn’t get hurt,” Virgil said.

“But I thought I could help then.”

Virgil sighed. “That heart of gold you’ve got is really going to get you in trouble if you don’t stop getting yourself in trouble.”

“Roman was there to help me, though.”

“Yeah, well what if he isn’t?” Virgil snapped as his irritated glare turned into one of anger, “What if no one is there to help you? What if you end up getting in trouble trying to help someone and you aren’t able to get out of it? You know we’re in a war, right? You can’t just-”

“Virgil.” Patton’s tone changed from the lighthearted joy he had before to a caring, yet serious tone that he so rarely used. Virgil looked away. Not at anything in particular. It was better than looking at the serious expression that crossed his partner’s face. A silence settled.

“I’ll see myself out,” Roman said suddenly, “You get better, Pat. And if the CMO tells you to take a few days off, you take them. Can’t have you in here trying to help people when you need help yourself.”

“Thank you, Roman,” Patton said. Virgil’s gaze flicked up. Roman shot him a kind smile, something also unusual in that moment, before turning around and walking out of the sickbay. Virgil kept his gaze on the door, even as it shut behind the red-clad security officer.

“I’m sorry,” Patton said, “You’re right, I should’ve listened to Logan and stayed out of the way. But I thought it was okay. Space whales are such gentle creatures most of the time and it was hurt so I went to help without thinking that he might attack me like that. I’ll be more careful next time, if there is a next time, and I’m sure Roman and Logan will make sure of that too. I’ll stay safe, I promise.”

Virgil crossed his arms and lowered his head as his heart twisted harshly. Patton sighed. A hand pressed over his arms. Patton’s thumb brushed over one of Virgil’s red sleeves.

“Virgil, look at me, please?”

After a second, Virgil flicked his gaze over. A small frown was pressed firmly into Patton’s normally cheery face. He didn’t want to keep his gaze on his partner’s face, but he couldn’t get himself to tear it away either. Not when Patton had asked so nicely.

“I worry about you all the time,” Patton said. Virgil caught a trace of tears in those golden brown eyes. He unconsciously turned his head to keep that heartbreaking view, “I worry that you’re going to be brought in here hurt or... or worse and it scares me so much. I don’t want you to worry about me the same way. I know life and this war can cause things to happen but I promise, from this point on, I’ll stay as safe as I can.”

Virgil stared a moment longer, then he exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He stepped close, unfurled his arms, and brought them on either side of Patton’s face. Then he kissed the doctor in the middle of the sickbay. It was soft and delicate and everything Virgil wished to express in words but just couldn’t. Patton’s hands covered his own as he leaned into the kiss. Virgil had never been more thankful for his partner’s touch to be so warm.

#sanders sides #moxiety #ts virgil #ts patton #ts roman #sanders sides star trek moxiety au #naprowrimo #naprowrimo 2019 #angst #death mentions #war mentions

[lannpaige-blog]

NaProWriMo 2019 Prompt List

Day Sixteen Prompt: burial at sea

PG - Warnings for Death Mentions, Fire, and Pet Death.

Characters: Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton and Remy.

Pairing: Royality

Word Count: 1695

This is a Logicality parents, Roman child situation with Virgil as the angsty younger brother of Logan, who lives with them because their parents died and Virgil’s too young to take care of himself.

Burial at Sea

This was stupid.

The last thing Virgil wanted to do was to go down to the park with his brother, his brother’s partner, and their five year old son so they could all take part in some childish burial for the little kid’s dead fish as some sick form of “family bonding”. But here they were, taking the car to the park ten minutes away, with Roman clutching the Popsicle stick boat he made and sniffling in the far left seat. He was so quiet. Virgil should have been thankful the brat wasn’t wailing or screaming like he normally did, but the sniffling was so disquieting. Virgil tossed the kid a glare first. Then a glance. Then a peek. Roman’s watery brown eyes never lifted from the boat or the red beta fish inside the little cabin.

Virgil pulled out his phone and opened his messages. He flicked to his best friend’s chat and typed, We’re out to go bury the fish.

Remy typed back, Wait, you’re burying the thing? What happened to flushing fish down the toilet?

Roman wanted a burial at sea Viking style so he could be with his fish friends or something.

Doesn’t that involve fire?

I doubt he knows that. I’m sure Lo and Patton didn’t tell him.

Oh you’re on a first name basis with the husband now? That’s cute.

Shut up.

The car stopped. Virgil peered over his phone to see the park beyond.

We’re here. Gotta go.

Let me know how the fish torching goes.

Virgil got out of the car and stuffed his cell phone in his pocket. It lightly tapped against the lighter hidden there. Shit. He stole a glance at Logan to see if his older brother heard, but he was clearly more preoccupied with Roman, who was struggling to get out of the car with the boat clutched in his fingers. It took a second, but eventually the kid got out and the car door was shut behind him. Then they all started  Patton’s open hand was on the boy’s head as they walked. Virgil stuck behind the three and their tight little family as he hunched over and sulked. God did he want this to be over.

Luckily, the walk to the water wasn’t bad. Even better, there wasn’t a layer of ice on the pond yet. And the cold air warded off any birds that might try to ruin the moment by being in the water. Shame, that. Could’ve been a great story. Oh well. Maybe next time Roman wanted to be dramatic something interesting would come out of it.

The little boy sniffled again as he stopped at the water’s edge. Patton knelt down next to him and moved his hand to the upper part of Roman’s back.

“You ready, kiddo?” Patton asked. Virgil winced at the softness of the man’s voice. Then he glared at the ground and bit back a scoff. It was just a dumb fish. There was no reason for Patton to be so gentle with the kid.

“Can you light it, daddy?”

Virgil’s eyes flicked up as he watched Roman hold up the boat. Patton placed a hand on his pocket, then stopped. He rummaged over all his pockets, stood, checked them again, then looked up. Patton and Lo traded a glance. Patton’s worry clashed with Logan’s stoic resolve hiding his clear panic. Great. They’d left their own lighter. Virgil rolled his eyes at the two and then his gaze fell on Roman. He caught sight of the boy trembling. Virgil knew the young boy’s face was about to crumble and the screeching would begin. He could run back to the car and wait for the moment to be over, he was sure Logan wouldn’t fault him for that when the guy clearly looked like he wanted to bail as well. But he had a lighter. Sure he’d have to explain the whole “I don’t smoke I just like setting small stuff on fire outside” situation, but there were worse conversations to have, especially when his son was about to fill the pond with more salt water at any second.

Virgil stuffed his hand in his pocket, fished the lighter out from under his phone, and walked to Roman. He knelt down next to the kid and held out his free hand.

“Here, I got it,” Virgil said. He was surprised by the lack of irritation in his voice. He was also surprised by Roman’s willingness to hand over the boat without hesitation. Virgil stared at the boat, then placed it at the water’s edge. Then, with a flick, he started the lighter and placed the flame at the top of the stick structure. It took a second, but soon the wood caught. Virgil pushed the little raft out towards the middle of the pond and shut off the lighter. The little boat stayed afloat, but the flames were causing the thing to fall apart. He couldn’t quite make out the fish in the blaze, but that didn’t matter.

Virgil felt tiny hands on his arm then. They clutched at his black hoodie. A deep, heavy sniffle resonated next to his ear. Then a little sob came. Virgil tensed. Patton was bound to rush in at any second and whisk Roman away. But that didn’t stop Virgil from moving his arm and wrapping it around the kid, tucking him into his side. The fingers, which disconnected from his sleeve because of his movement, clutched at Virgil’s side.

They remained there as the flames tore the boat apart. They remained as fire was doused by the slow current of cool water. They remained as ashes flicked against the soul and started to salt beneath the surface. Virgil felt Roman tremble and felt his body heaving, silent sobs. All he did in response was pull Roman a little closer. Eventually, the sobs eased, but the trembling didn’t. In fact, as a cool gust slipped over them, Virgil felt Roman tremble a little more and move closer to him with a little whimper, almost imperceptible to Virgil even though the kid was practically attached to him. He looked up at Patton. It took a second for the man to register that Virgil was actually trying to get his attention with that stare. Patton blinked, then knelt down himself.

“You ready to head home, kiddo?” Patton asked. Roman nodded. Patton reached. Virgil let Roman be taken out of his grasp. Once Patton and Roman were a foot or two away and headed back to the car, Virgil stood and glanced at Logan. He expect to see a stern look. Instead, a stoic expression with just a touch of warm stared back.

“You never smell like smoke,” Logan said, his voice a whisper so Patton couldn’t hear, no doubt.

“I don’t smoke,” Virgil answered. They started walking after Patton. The other adult was talking, but Virgil couldn’t make out his words over Logan’s.

“What is the lighter for, then?”

Virgil shrugged. “Remy and I like burning stuff in his driveway sometimes. Paper, old mail, stuff like that.”

“Well, if you are in need of papers to do that with at the house, you are welcome to use the documents I intend to shred. All I ask is that if you decide to go such a route, you burn them in the grill and you remain safe.”

Virgil blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Of course.”

Virgil stared at Logan again, then he looked at the ground. A little knot twisted in his gut.

“Are you unsatisfied with this arrangement?” Logan asked.

“No, I just... expected you or Patton to be mad or something.”

“Virgil, you are sixteen-years-old. You will participate in events that I will not be fond of. If the reason you possess a lighter is to burn paper with your friend within the safety of his driveway, then I am fine with that arrangement. In fact, it can also be beneficial for us, so long as the burning is done in a safe environment. In addition, while you are legally within the care of myself, I am not your father. I do not wish to treat you as my child.”

“Why not?”

The question left Virgil’s mouth so fast he couldn’t stop it. Like he couldn’t stop the flood of memories with Logan and their parents. He’d watched their parents fawn over Logan’s achievements, watched their teenage son participate in band, watched as they helped Logan prepare for prom, watched as he left for college, watched on the days he returned. He longed for that himself, even at that young age. But now, the cycle was broken. There were no parents. It was just two brothers, with the youngest too old now for the hugs and whispers of assurance in the late night hours when nightmares roamed and panic attacks were common.

Tears came then. Virgil brought up his left arm and brushed them away. A hand reached out and took that arm. Virgil stopped walking. Logan stopped with them. Then, Virgil glanced over. Logan’s expression had shifted into something far more serious. The elder’s hand lowered.

“I did not want you to resent me,” Logan said. “If you are in need of a parental figure, I-”

“No, it’s... it’s fine,” Virgil said. Then he sighed and looked down. “I’m just...  I miss then, you know?”

“Yes, I know. I miss them too.”

Virgil gave him a little smile. Logan returned it, though anyone else probably wouldn’t have seen his face shift. Then Virgil turned and started walking towards Patton and Roman again. By the time they made it to the car, Patton was already putting Roman inside of it and helping the kid with his seat belt.

Virgil climbed into his side of the car. He shut the door, reached for the seat belt, then paused and looked over. Roman’s gaze was still down, eyes still wet, face red and splotchy with unfiltered emotion. With only a second more of hesitation, he moved to the center seat, buckled in, and put his right arm around Roman’s smaller body. The car started. All for of them moved forward in silence.

#sanders sides #ts virgil #ts logan #ts roman #ts patton #virgil #logan #roman #patton #fan work #fan fiction #my fan fiction #logicality parents with child roman and teenager virgil #naprowrimo 2019 #naprowrimo #death mentions #pet death #fire

[lannpaige-blog]

NaProWriMo 2019 Prompt List

Day Five Prompt: lonely hyenas

PG-13 - Warnings for Food Mentions, Negative Thoughts, Self-Hatred, Deceit, Snake Bites, Burns, Physical Pain, Angst, and Manipulation.

Characters: Patton, Roman, Logan, Virgil, and Deceit.

Word Count: 3604

This is a direct continuation of Empty Cups, which is really short, so if this interests you at all, you can check that out too. In addition, this was kind of inspired by the musical Be More Chill.

Spoilers for Selfishness v. Selflessness | Sanders Sides.

Lonely Hyenas

Patton woke up on the couch.

His right shoulder was sore, so he knew he’d been there for a while, curled up, alone. He blinked behind crooked glasses and stared at the brown cushions. His mind slowly began to process. How long was ‘a while’? Why hadn’t anyone come to check on him? Dinner was still downstairs, likely. Did they eat without him? Did they eat at all?

After a second, he sat up and adjusted his glasses so they were straight. Well, as straight as anything he did could be. He should go downstairs, check on dinner, maybe clean up. He could make something else too, something smaller, something that would keep in the refrigerator and leave a note for the others where the plates and cups could remain.

Or I could just stay here.

There was something odd about that thought. Patton examined it for a second, but let the weird feeling pass. It was a thought. Thoughts weren’t weird. They were like passing clouds - there for a moment, gone the next. He didn’t have to examine them. He could just let them go without a second glance. He stood.

I don’t want to go down there. Roman’s mad at me. He probably hates me now, if he didn’t hate me already.

Patton's hands clenched, his eyes cast down to the floor. Little balls of light that floated gently through his room drifted as those thoughts were supposed to. Patton sighed. His eyes drifted to the lamp, to the red curtains, to where Roman stood when he came here with Thomas and the others. Roman stood next to him. Always next to him. There were smiles and laughs and jokes passed between them. Roman drifted back to that spot every time he visited, as rare as that was. It was his. Patton put that stuff there for him. Made it look nice and everything. Was that a waste of time? Did Roman really hate him now? Did he always?

Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he hate me? I’m always focused on getting what I want. Everyone probably hates me for that.

Patton felt tears welling up again. Then he charged up his stairs, tore into his bedroom, and buried himself under the covers of the bed, away from the world. The tears fell. Raw sobs tore through him. He clutched as stuffed animals that mirrored Thomas’s and wept. He wasn’t sure how long he cried, nor was he sure how long he just laid there, hidden, clutching at things that didn’t really belong to him, listening to these thoughts that had to be true. He didn’t get up for the rest of the night. He fell asleep without changing, glasses on, the cat hoodie Logan gave him wrapped around his shoulders.

Morning came too quickly, yet not quickly enough. Patton struggled out of bed and entered the bathroom. He stripped and showered, not bothering to look at his body or go through the extreme processes of cleaning. He just went through the essentials. He wasn’t worthy of the rest. Then he changed into clothes that mirrored the ones he wore the day before, except these were clean and wrinkle free. He moved to pull out a cardigan from his closet to drape over his shoulders, since his hoodie had gotten so wrinkled.

But if I do that, they’ll think I’m Deceit since he wears the wrong clothes.

Right. Patton let his hand fall to his side.

I could just hide here today.

Patton shook his head. He had to make breakfast.

They could eat without me.

But that would make them worry more, maybe even check on him. He didn’t want that. He caused enough trouble as it was. No, he had to be normal, look normal, act normal. They were entitled to their feelings but he wasn’t. Not after yesterday. So Patton went back to the bathroom, picked the cat hoodie out of the laundry basket, and ironed it. It looked better than normal, but that was okay. At least it didn’t look wrinkled. They would notice that.

Patton tied it on, careful not to agitate his still sore right shoulder, left his room, and went into the kitchen. Dinner was still there, untouched.

They didn’t even bother eating what I made last night.

Well, Patton didn’t eat it either, but that didn’t stop the phantom hand that clutched against his heart. He stared at the food, then he picked it up and tossed it in the trash. He cleaned all the dishes, turned, and started breakfast. He wasn’t sure if they’d come down for breakfast, but he wasn’t breaking the routine. He even started brewing the coffee for Logan and Virgil. It would get cold, likely, before they had a chance to retrieve it, but at least it was done.

“Smells like we’re just in time.” Roman’s voice near the kitchen caused Patton to jump a little. His heart was wrenched in his chest. His hands still.

I just need to keep cooking and smile and talk a little, that’s all. Just so he can see that I’m okay.

Patton considered apologizing.

Roman doesn’t need an apology.

But what he said-

Is his opinion, and those words he said hurt me too. He should apologize first.

But he didn’t know Patton was there. Why would he apologize for anything?

“Good morning, Patton,” Logan said. There was a sleepiness to the logical side’s voice. Patton forced a smile.

“Good morning, Logan! Good morning, Roman! Did you two sleep well?”

“I believe I did,” Logan said.

“Me too,” Roman said with a soft sigh, “I have to say I’m surprised, given... yesterday.”

“Apologies for missing dinner,” Logan said in his matter-of-fact tone, “It was not intentional. We were discussing some matters last night and became distracted.”

“That’s okay, I understand,” Patton said.

It doesn’t make it hurt less.

“Yes, well, it won’t happen again,” Roman said, “I’m starving, and besides, I don’t want to miss out on too much delicious food. How am I going to create if I don’t keep my energy up?”

Ah, so he’s going to use me now.

Patton’s hands paused. Then he smiled at Roman. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to tire yourself out, kiddo!”

Roman smiled himself. There was something vulnerable about that smile. Something delicate. Patton should apologize here. It was the perfect time for it. A moment of silence between them. Patton let his smile falter, let his eyes fall, let his mind linger over words he wanted to say.

He doesn’t need an apology.

“You alright, Pat?”

Patton looked up and smiled again. “I’m fine! I was just... are you okay? Yesterday was pretty bad for you.”

Roman sighed. His smile dropped. All the bravado he could muster that morning vanished with it, Patton noticed. “I’m not great, but it’ll get better. One day, we’ll make progress towards Thomas’s dreams and other things won’t get in the way.”

“Given the tone that yesterday’s debate took on, I imagine this will happen sooner rather than later,” Logan said.

They’re already planning on cutting me out.

“Sounds like you’ve been around Roman too long if you’re imagining things.” Virgil. Good. He came around the corner and joined them in the kitchen. Patton flashed him a smile.

“Good morning, Virgil!”

“Morning,” was all the murmured in response. Sounded normal enough. “Sorry I missed dinner.”

“You missed dinner as well?” Logan asked.

Patton watched them trade a look. He smiled. “It’s okay. Yesterday was a big day for all of us.”

His heart winced at the words, but somehow, he kept the smile on his face. The three of them looked at him. Were they judging him? Maybe. He did get what he wanted, ultimately, which meant that of all of them, he had the least to emotionally deal with. So, it was a big day for him, not for them. He turned his attention back to the stove and started to crack a few eggs into a skillet. They hissed on contact.

“I suppose it was,” Logan said, “But that does not excuse all of our absences. You did still make dinner, did you not?”

He’s only checking to make sure that the routine was maintained.

“Yeah, but I don’t mind,” Patton said.

“You should have come to get us,” Virgil said.

He wouldn’t have really answered his door when I knocked.

“But you guys always come down for dinner on your own. I figured that you guys were resting. It’s not a big deal.”

“Did you eat?” Roman asked.

He’s not actually worried, he’s just pretending to be because the others are here.

“No, but-”

“Wait, you didn’t eat?” Virgil asked. “What did you do, sit down here and wait for us to show up?”

“It’s fine, really,” Patton said, avoiding the question as best he could as his mind tried to find a way to deviate the conversation. He turned around and smiled at them. It felt forced, but he hoped it didn’t look that way. “It’s just dinner. It’s not like we can’t have more. Besides, it’s a new day and we should be focused on making this one as good as possible.”

“It’s more than just dinner,” Roman said.

He’s wrong.

“Roman is correct,” Logan said, “Sitting together at dinner provides us with a sense of unity. It allows us to communicate without worrying about whatever ailments Thomas may be experiencing at any given moment. For all three of us to neglect it while you still cooked for us showed in that moment that we did not care for the effort that you put into another attempt at uniting us, perhaps when we needed that unity the most.”

He’s too serious.

“Plus, your dinners are what helped me feel like a part of all this,” Virgil said, his arms gesturing to the commons, “I’m not sure I ever would have felt like I fit in without them.”

He’s exaggerating.

Patton blinked at them. He felt tears threatening to well up. Then he flashed another smile - when had the first drifted away? - and turned back to the stove with a giggle. It was supposed to be a comforting sound, but it sounded so lonely by itself when the pack around him was so quiet. Yet, the giggle echoed as a chuckle in his mind, deep, so unlike his own. He pushed it aside.

“You guys are silly, it’s really fine,” Patton said.

“It’s not-”

Patton’s shaking hand reached for the skillet, missed the handle, and latched for too long at the metal connected to the pan. Heat seared his skin. Patton yelped and jerked back, pulling his injured left hand to his chest. A cacophony of noise surrounded him. Pans moved, chairs scraped, feet padded. Or was that just the thoughts in his mind all falling, crashing, splitting to pieces.

Hands touched his. Patton jerked back as if that contact burned too. His eyes fell to the ground.

“Patton, I need to assess how bad your injury is in order to provide treatment,” Logan said.

“I-I can take care of it,” Patton whispered, “I caused enough trouble.”

“What do you mean?” Logan asked. Patton winced. He hadn’t intended to say the second part out loud, but there it was. He couldn’t cover it up now. He couldn’t lie his way out of it, either. He’d already lied by telling them that he was fine when he wasn’t and that was too much. He couldn’t lie his way out of that statement too.

I should tell them it’s not important and leave. They won’t stop me.

“It’s not important,” Patton said in a voice too weak. He tried to leave, tried to follow the instructions of that thought, but hands grabbed his shoulders. Strong, firm hands. The one on his right arm touched a little too closely to the sore spot that remained after he slept on the couch. Patton winced.

“Of course it’s important,” Logan said. His voice was so soft, as it had been in conversations before. Silence followed.

“Talk to us, Pat,” Roman said.

They’re just pretending. They don’t care. They’ll just talk about other stuff once I leave.

No. They cared. They wouldn’t be doing this if they didn’t care. Patton clenched his eyes shut and shook his head. He tried to pull back. Logan’s fingers loosened temporarily. It felt as if he might let go. Then his fingers brushed against that sore spot against Patton’s shoulder. He whimpered. Logan’s fingers paused just over the sharp burn that resided there.

He doesn’t need to worry about that. I slept on it wrong. I should tell him it’s okay, like everything is okay. Everything is okay. Everything-

“What happened to your shoulder?” Logan asked.

“I-I slept on it wrong, it’s okay,” Patton whispered.

“May I see?”

No!

The thought was so forceful that Patton flinched. Logan’s fingers twitched against his shoulders.

Patton opened his eyes and looked to his right shoulder. Now that he thought about it, this wasn’t the dull pain of discomfort lingering under his skin. This was sharp, like something cut his skin. No, like it cut his skin twice. There were two precise points. What would cause that? Not sleep.

Of course it was sleep, what else could it be?

Patton nodded anyway. Logan’s fingers delicately moved the fabric of his hoodie and shirt aside. Patton’s skin breathed. Logan sucked in a sharp breath.

“What in Odin’s great palace is that?” Roman asked.

“Patton, did you-”

“He didn’t do that.” Virgil’s sudden and forceful interruption of Logan caused Patton to flinch again. Then hands were on his face. They were a little cold, but felt so necessary, even when they forced his head to tilt up. His eyes flicked up. They met Virgil’s. Patton could see a complex web of emotion lingering in those dark brown eyes.

“Patton, listen to me,” Virgil said, his voice still forceful, but soft and caring like Logan’s had been moments before, “Whatever thoughts you’ve been having since you woke up, they’re not yours. That wound was caused by Deceit. It looks like it’s just a snake bite, and maybe it is, but it puts this toxin into you that lets him get into your thoughts and manipulate you. Usually it only works on sides that are feeling doubt or something, which I guess you do since you’re having this strong of a reaction to it. We can deal with that later. Right now, we gotta get that venom out of you.”

“Is that something we can accomplish?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, I got stuff in my room for that. Deceit’s done this to me a couple times. Not recently, but I kept it all just in case. Patton, stay with them. Don’t run off. And whatever these two tell you, you listen to them. Don’t let Deceit trick you into thinking whatever he’s been telling you.”

Virgil let go and bolted from the kitchen. Patton didn’t watch him leave. His eyes flicked back to the floor.

He won’t come back.

That wasn’t true. Virgil said he was going to come back. Patton knew that Virgil wouldn’t lie about something like that, even though that thought told him so. No, it wasn’t a thought. It was Deceit. But what thoughts were his and what thoughts were Deceit? They sounded so similar.

They are the same.

They’re not. They can’t be. His thoughts weren’t like this before, no matter how bad things got.

Suddenly, the mental jumble was interrupted by arms around him. Patton could tell by the sleeves that the arms belonged to Roman. Roman had pulled him into a hug. It was tight, protective. His hands laced against his upper right arm, but didn’t come close the injury still open to the air.

“You’re gonna be all right, Pat,” Roman said.

Does he really want to support you right now? I bet he’d rather talk about his own pain and sacrifices. He’s jealous of me getting what I want all the time. He hates me.

But Roman didn’t hate him. Patton knew that. There was too much kindness between them. After all, Roman had never said a bad thing about him. There was never any harsh names, never any snide remarks, only a few comments about his intelligence, but when Patton made his points, Roman heard him out in most instances. Roman supported him. Roman couldn’t hate him.

I will never know that.

The tears Patton hid earlier sprang forward, dipped, fell. He sniffled. Roman pulled him closer. It hurt. It didn’t hurt his burnt hand or his shoulder. It hurt his heart. It crushed it. Patton sniffled again and tried to gather his words.

Say nothing.

“Do you hate me, Roman?” Patton asked.

“Of course not! Did Deceit tell you I did? Because I swear to you, I could never hate you.”

“But yesterday, I did actually go to get you and Logan for dinner and I heard you talking about how I always get what I want from Thomas and I didn’t realize you felt that way before, I’m so sorry, Roman, I didn’t mean to make you feel that way ever I thought I was doing the right thing but it hurt you and I-I-”

“Patton, calm yourself,” Roman said. He untangled his fingers to rub Patton’s back with his right arm. Then he cut into Patton’s light of sight, brushed his left fingers under Patton’s chin, and raised his head. Patton’s eyes dragged up with more hesitation. Roman’s stare was full of passion and kindness. Patton could feel the latter rattle against his strangled heart.

“I don’t hate you,” Roman said softly, “You’re so kind to me and you support me no matter what I create or how bad I think it is. If I need someone to cheer me up, I go to you. If I need a friend that won’t judge me for my thoughts, I go to you. If I need someone to talk through my emotions with, I go to you. It’s not just because you’re good with this stuff, it’s because I like you. And I don’t hate people I like. Especially you.”

As Roman spoke, a few more of Patton’s tears slipped free. When he finished, Patton kept eye contact.

He’s lying.

No. He’s not. Roman meant every word. Patton hadn’t felt more confident about anything else all morning. Roman didn’t hate him.

Patton sobbed. Roman pulled him into a hug again. He felt warm and safe and real. Patton let himself lean into that warmth. He even reached his arms up so his hands could clutch at it. His left hand came into contact with the cloth of Roman’s uniform and Patton winced. He whined through his sobs. Roman’s arms loosened, but Patton pressed himself deeper into the hug. A chin rested atop his head. Deep, rich humming followed soon after. He listened to that humming, let it ripple through him like the heat of Roman’s body, and allowed himself to ease. There were still thoughts, but Patton let them pass like clouds in the sky, unheeded.

Once he calmed, Roman pulled back. Patton sniffled and looked up on his own this time. Their eyes met. There was nothing but kindness lingering on the prince’s face.

“You good, Patton?”

Patton shrugged. “I’m better.” His voice sounded so harsh to his own ears.

“Well, that’s a start,” Roman said, “Let’s see if Logan and Virgil can help you too.”

Patton felt hands at his back. He was guided to a chair by those hands and he sat. Fingers traced to his left arm. It was then he noticed the calculated movements of Logan and the eyes that scanned his body. His face was blank, but Patton could feel Logan’s concern through his touch.

“Virgil, would you be able to treat Deceit’s wound on your own? Patton’s left hand still requires attention.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, popping into view at Patton’s right. He wasn’t sure when Virgil got back, but that didn’t matter. What matters is that he came back, just like he said he would, and just like Deceit said he wouldn’t.

Patton’s left hand was lifted, palm up. A gel of some kind, cool and soothing was applied to the skin. It stung at first, but after a few seconds and a high-pitched whine, the pain eased. Relief settled. On the other side, Virgil’s hands pressed against the skin and some kind of liquid dropped into each puncture wound. Heat seared through him, hurting as the burn did, but deeper, harsher. He groaned and shuddered, his eyes tightening shut. Arms wrapped around his torso from behind the chair. A chin rested on his head once more. There was the humming again. This time, Patton recognized the song. “A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes”. It was slower, softer, than the original, but Patton knew it. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the notes.

It won’t work. None of it will work. You’ll suffer forever.

“Roman, can you sing the lyrics,” Patton whimpered, “P-please.”

The song started over. Roman sang softly, his arm tightening around Patton’s chest. The others worked in silence. Through Deceit’s voice, Patton focused on the words, on their touch, on the kindness that coursed through each of their touches. Soon, Deceit’s voice became a whisper, then a wisp in the wind, then almost nothing.

Patton heard a deep chuckle before the voice disappeared quickly. He could have sworn it came with a touch of loneliness, just as his giggle had before.

#sanders sides #ts patton #ts roman #ts virgil #ts logan #ts deceit #patton #roman #virgil #logan #deceit #fan work #fan fiction #my fan fiction #naprowrimo 2019 #naprowrimo #triggering content #self hatred #self hate #angst #manipulation #deception #snake bites #burns #food mentions #ts spoilers #spoilers #WOW THAT GOT LONG #oh well i'm happy with it

[lannpaige-blog]

NaProWriMo 2019 Prompt List

Day Four Prompt: fearless gods

PG-13 - Warnings for Anxiety and Panic Attacks.

Characters: Roman, Logan, Patton, and Virgil

Word Count: 2751

Fearless Gods

“This is ridiculous.”

Logan calculated that Roman had said, yelled, or muttered that same phrase twelve thousand eight hundred and thirty six times in his presence. This time, it was a mutter, near whisper, in their shared living space. Logan didn’t raise his eyes from his own orb, or the sixteen year old he was tasked with watching from birth.

“Why can’t humans grow up faster?” Roman asked with a huff.

“Humans are designed to age at a very specific rate,” Logan said, “It is built into their DNA, as all life-”

“Rhetorical question, Specs.”

“If you do not wish for you questions to be answers, you should not ask them out loud.”

“Don’t start with me tonight,” Roman said.

“What is going on with your human?”

“He’s moping! If he’s going to stay in his bedroom all night, he could at least get some sleep. At least that would be better than watching him mindlessly sit there looking like some emo child reject.”

Logan hummed a single, monotone note. His human hummed himself, though not for any reason Logan provided. He simply did that. He hummed and danced little dances when he was on his own. Logan questioned the behavior a few times, but cast it aside when he caught Roman doing something rather similar one afternoon. A quirk, then. Nothing more.

“Please tell me you know what ‘emo’ means,” Roman said.

“I believe the term is written on one of my vocabulary cards. Do you wish for me to recite the definition for you?”

“No, just wanted to make sure you weren’t completely clueless.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “I do believe I am making progress with young human slang.”

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem that way with those cards of yours.”

“At least I’m making an effort to understand my human and the words he uses. All you appear to do is criticize yours.”

“That’s not true!”

“Provide me of an example of one instance where you praised your human.”

“I--”

Roman stopped. Logan looked over to see Roman’s eyes searching off his own orb. The tiniest of smirks pricked at the corner of Logan’s mouth.

“Look, he’s just not that fun, all right?” Roman asked, shooting him a glare. “At least yours does fun things, like act and sing. Mine just skulks around and mopes all day even though he doesn’t have to. He could do something, anything, other than that and maybe I’d cut him a slack.”

“I do not believe he would need a pair of pants trimmed.”

“It’s an idiom, Coeus.”

“Coeus-”

“Don’t. Say. Anything.”

Logan blinked at him, shut his mouth, then looked back at the orb on his desk. His human was fiddling with his small rectangular device. A mobile telephone, though his human, as most humans, called it a “cell phone”. It was quite a useful tool, and one that Logan praised, though how humans used such a device was so limited. His, for instance, was pulling up music on the application Spotify. Well, he did need to brush up on his knowledge of Newsies before the audition in two weeks. Perhaps that’s what he was- oh, no, he was going to listen to The Campfire Song Song again. Well, so much for using the night to obtain knowledge.

“Oh great,” Roman said, “Now he’s crying.”

Logan blinked and looked towards Roman. “Why would your human be crying?”

“Why does he do anything?”

“Roman, the entire point of this exercise is to understand humans. If you cannot understand this one, how will you be able to perform your duties?”

“Look, I do not need to understand this human to create them, okay? Like you don’t need to understand that human to organize their world or whatever it is you want to do once this guardian thing is over. It’s just a waste of time and it keeps us from knocking down one of the old gods when they aren’t ready to give up their seats.”

“There is a lesson to be learned in this process.”

“Yeah, and what is it? Human slang? ‘cause if it’s not that, it seems like you’re not doing too well with this whole learning thing.”

“At least I am making attempts. You are discounting the experience before it is over.”

“We don’t need any of this!”

“You cannot know that.”

Roman sighed and glared at the orb. Logan watched him for a second before returning to his own human. He was at his computer, headphones on, head moving up and down to the beat of the song so familiar to him he very likely didn’t need the music to know the lyrics. There was a smile there. Off the reflections of his glasses, Logan could see words, though he could not tell what they were. He moved to adjust the sight when Roman inhaled sharply.

Logan glanced at Roman again and saw the other god’s face. The wide eyes, the jaw slacked, the pale skin. It was not a look Logan had seen before on the younger gods like themselves, but the older ones, the ones that watched over the humans, they gave looks like that from time-to-time. He saw it on the face of his father often, especially when the discussions of great human evils came up. What was that look for? Logan was never certain and he never desired to understand. After all, he had no interest in the oversight of more than one human. But now, seeing Roman’s bravado disappear, Logan wished he had pried in those moments.

“Roman?” Logan asked.

“I don’t know what he’s doing but it looks bad.”

“What do you mean?”

Roman held the orb out towards Logan, but his eyes never left it. Logan stood from his desk and walked over. Inside, he saw Roman’s human in the small bathroom of the tiny apartment he managed to keep without adults. He was seated on the floor, back against the wall, his arms around his knees, and his forehead resting atop them. Tremors coursed through that frail looking body. His back heaved. Harsh breaths seemed to gain him nothing but more struggle.

“Wh-what do I do?” Roman asked.

“I do not know.”

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’? You’re supposed to know everything, aren’t you?!”

Logan bit his bottom lip. Roman’s human was displaying actions that Logan had not seen his human do. This was to be expected. Even though the two humans shared a birthday, Logan and Roman were told that they would exhibit different behaviors, feelings, and actions during the course of their lives. But this display was not something Logan ever expected. To see someone go through such distress caused his own heart to seemingly twist and writhe in his chest.

“Could this possibly be linked to a medical issue?”

“I don’t know! He’s never shown any signs of anything like that before!”

“Anything in his family’s medical history about breathing problems? Perhaps he is experiencing some kind of asthma attack.”

“I don’t know!”

“Look!”

Roman thrust the orb at Logan and ran to his own desk. Drawers were opened. Tablets were tossed aside in an effort to find the one containing his human’s information. Logan watched the small human tremble and heave alone in that bathroom. If he could reach out to Logan’s human, perhaps he could get some assistance. Was it too late for that? Logan considered that it might be and a deep coldness settled on his skin.

“Found it!” Roman called and rushed back over. He flicked through the information on the tablet, his own fingers shaking. “Okay, here. He doens’t have anything like asthma but it says he might be prone to something called panic attacks. You know anything about those?”

“I have heard of them, though I am not certain. Watch over him, I will look.”

Logan handed the orb back to Roman and returned to his own desk. He opened the middle drawer on the left-hand side of his desk and picked up the second tablet from the top. He waved his hand over the device to turn it own. The Catalogue for All Human Medical Ailments opened. He typed into the search bar “panic attacks”. The response came immediately.

“A panic attack is a sudden episode of intense fear that triggers severe physical reactions when there is no real danger or apparent cause,” Logan read out loud.

“Why would humans be designed to have those?! We don’t experience that!”

“I do not believe now is the time to investigate such matters,” Logan said, “I believe it will be better for us to determine how to best help your human through this moment. The database says that panic attacks can be calmed with breathing exercises, among other things, though those other things are not beneficial at this time. Is there a way you can suggest such methods to him without direct contact?”

“I-I don’t know, I-”

“Roman, do not start empathizing with your human at this moment. He needs you. Calm yourself.”

Roman took a deep breath himself, then another, and then one more. Through this momentary pause, Logan began to calculate options. Without direct interference, they could not provide the human much assistance through this. However, it would be possible to have Logan’s human assist instead. Logan had, on several instances, provided his human with opportunities to understand human psychology, and that appeared to be going well. Psychology was one of the few classes his human had high grades in at that time. Perhaps these classes would provide this human was assistance, if they could somehow get into contact

“Okay,” Roman said. His voice was still strained, but Logan could feel a touch of calm growing.

“Roman, can you perhaps suggest to your human that he reach out to someone?”

Roman blinked up at him. “Why?”

“If your human can reach out to mine with minimal interference from us, we could manage to provide comfort to your human without breaking the rules.”

Roman blinked again, and then he looked down at the orb. After a second, he waved his hand over the orb. There was a ding. The human’s head jerked up, eyes wide, body frozen. Then a shaky hand went to the pocket of his black jeans and pulled out his phone.

“What did you-”

“Text from a wrong number,” Roman said. His eyes were glued to the orb. Logan’s eyes flicked back down to it. He watched as trembling fingers clutched the phone. Then his breath stopped as thumbs moved across the screen. There was a pause, another, the human stilled. His fingers shook. His hands tightened. Then he closed his eyes and pressed the screen once more. There was a ding. Logan looked over at his own human. The young man stared at his phone. Logan zoomed in on it.

help me

The message came from the young man’s best friend. “Virgil” was clearly typed at the top of the messages. There was more than the most recent one, but those traded texts were nothing but nonsense. Logan had read them before, more than once in an effort to understand slang. He knew their conversations. None of them started like this. That’s likely why his human paused before his thumbs moved swiftly across the screen.

Whats going on buddy??

The message was sent. There was another ding from Roman’s orb. Logan watched his human hover over his phone screen, thumbs poised. His face mirrored Roman’s earlier expression, the one Logan couldn’t pinpoint, the one he likely had himself. There was another ding. A message appeared on his human’s phone.

freaking out pls come over

His human stood immediately. On my way

Logan watched the young man rush out of his bedroom door. He rushed into the kitchen where his parents were talking. “Virgil’s having problems, can I have the car? He asked for me to come over.”

His voice was so fast Logan almost didn’t catch all the words. His parents agreed, he grabbed his keys and wallet on the table next to the door, and he bolted from the house. His mother shouting, “Be careful, Patton! Text us when you can!” came over the orb. Patton said nothing in response as he climbed into his car, started it and drove through the streets to Virgil’s apartment building. Patton usually followed all the rules, but that night, he sped a little and forgot to use his blinker more than once. Logan found that he didn’t care in that moment. His breath caught, his heart raced, his hands tightened against the catalogue still within his grasp. He couldn’t take his eyes off Patton’s darting eyes and wide facial features.

“Is he close?” Roman asked.

“He will be there in approximately a minute and a half,” Logan answered.

Logan watched as Patton navigated the parking lot. He tensed as Patton almost hit a car parking. The door swung open before the car was shut off. Shaking hands pulled the keys from the ignition and shut the door. Patton ran halfway to Virgil’s door and then clicked the lock function on the remote. The cars lights flashed as Patton continued to run. He burst into the building, climbed four flights of stairs, and then made it to room 424. He knocked on the door loudly, then hopped onto the balls of his feet.

“Come on, Virgil,” Patton murmured. There was no answer. This was taking too long. Logan’s hands tightened more against the tablet.

“What is Virgil doing?” Logan asked, his voice harsh against the otherwise silent room.

“He’s getting there,” Roman answered, his own voice mirroring his tone. Logan waited. There was the click of the locks. The door opened. Patton hesitated in the hallway.

“I... I can’t...” Virgil started. His voice as an echo as it came from both orbs. Patton reached out and were placed on Virgil’s shoulders.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Patton said, “Let’s close the door and sit on the couch, okay?”

Virgil nodded and moved back. Patton entered. The door was shut. Patton eased Virgil to the couch and Virgil sat. Patton knelt in front of him and took his hands gently.

“Okay,” Patton said, “I want you to do a breathing exercise with me, okay? It’s a four-seven-eight count. We’ll breathe in for four, hold for seven, and breathe out for eight. You think you can do that?”

Virgil gave a shaky nod. Patton tapped the back of Virgil’s hand. The breathing started. Logan watched them breath in unison and found himself following along with his own shallow breaths at first. Then he heard Roman exhale with them and decided to join in as well. All four of them took timed breaths, one after the other, until Virgil seemed calmer.

“Better?” Patton asked.

“Yeah,” Virgil muttered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to call you out here in the middle of the night.”

“It’s okay,” Patton said, “I’m glad I could help. Besides, it’s only nine.”

“That’s late for you.”

“Aw, that doesn’t matter. You know I’d drive out here at two in the morning if you needed me to.”

Virgil said nothing at first. Then he whispered, “Thanks.”

Patton smiled. Their conversation continued, but Logan disconnected from the orb and the volume dropped to a low hum. He sighed and sank into his chair. Roman followed suit shortly after. Logan allowed himself to breathe a few more times before glancing at Roman. The other god sat slouched, a surprise in of itself, with his head in his hands.

“That... was awful,” Roman said.

“Agreed. Though matters could have been much different. We are fortune that those two humans are so close.”

Roman hummed. Then, after a moment, he sat up and sighed. “Gotta hand it to Virgil. He made a good friend.”

“Ah, a praise, then.”

“Getting through that, he deserves more than one.”

“Yes,” Logan said. He glanced at the orb. Patton was sitting at Virgil’s side now, but his body was still facing the other human. There was a smile on his face, but that mirrored the look Logan’s own mother gave him. Very parental, very caring.

His mind wandered to the struck look on his father’s face, on Roman’s, on Patton’s. What had caused it? A rise in blood pressure, a tension, a cold sweat. No, those were all symptoms. Symptoms of what? Of a feeling, perhaps. No, not just a feeling. Logan saw those same symptoms in Virgil, though to a more extreme degree. Panic. Anxiety.

Fear.

Logan experienced fear.

#sanders sides #ts logan #ts roman #ts patton #ts virgil #logan #roman #patton #virgil #fan work #fan fiction #my fan fiction #naprowrimo 2019 #naprowrimo #triggering content #anxiety #panic attacks #gods #okay #i'm proud of this idea #and i know these prompt fills haven't been getting a lot of notes #so #i'm kind of sad that this likely will get ignored

[lannpaige-blog]

NaProWriMo 2019 - Prompt 1

NaProWriMo 2019 Prompt List

Day One Prompt: fire from within

T - Warnings for Deceit, kidnapping, choking, fire broken glass, blood, hand injuries, violence, and very angry Roman.

Characters: Roman, Logan, Virgil, Patton, Deceit

Word Count: 2695

Spoilers for Selfishness v. Selflessness | Sanders Sides.

I was also inspired by a text post that was floating around about “white rage Roman”, but I can’t find it for the life of me. I’d link it otherwise.

Fire From Within

“Roman, good, I was hoping to see you here.”

The easy roll of Deceit’s voice behind him caused Roman to tense. He rose from his desk chair, almost knocking it over in the process, as he turned to face the other side. There was a touch of a smile appearing on the human side of Deceit’s face. The snake side, though, looked placid, cold, near, dare Roman say, evil. He held back a shiver and the instinct to summon his sword.

“What do you want?” Roman growled. He could taste the bitterness in his words and, for once, he didn’t regret the tone.

“To apologize,” Deceit said, “I did try to get Thomas to take your side in that little court room scenario and I clearly did not do my best. As a result, you had to give up something that was so important to you. So, I wanted to bring you a gift.”

“A gift?” Roman asked. His eyes narrowed. He normally would have liked the idea of a gift. Patton and Virgil even gave him gifts not long after the court room showdown Deceit was so keen on bringing up. Roman had their cards tucked into his top right desk drawer, in fact - right on top of the stack of other homemade cards mostly from Patton. Deceit wouldn’t have made a card. He certainly didn’t look like he had one in his gloved hands, which spread in front of him and out to the sides.

“Of course!” Deceit said, “You were saddened by the sacrifice you had to make after all, so it’s only fair that I do something to ease your troubles.”

Deceit raised his right hand and gestured towards the wall.

“Behold!”

As if by magic, an object took shape. Roman narrowed his eyes at it. It was about the size of a doorway, but it wasn’t a door. The wide, gold lattice work around the whole arched piece certainly didn’t scream door. Neither did the panel, which reflected the rest of Roman’s room in its dark surface. Roman edged closer to it and look in the clear panel, the gold lattice work, the depth of black beneath the beautiful craftsmanship. With each step, he could see small crystals shimmer underneath the surface. Then, he caught his own reflection. He looked brilliant and bold against the darker surface. His light skin and clothes stood out against the black depth that tainted parts of his room that were furthest from the surface. Roman stopped in front of it and examined the frame, the glass, the structure as a whole.

“A mirror,” he said. He couldn’t hide the awe in his voice.

“Yes,” Deceit said, “What better gift for you than an object you can admire yourself in? You are worth admiring, after all. And you haven’t even gotten to the best part. This mirror, it’s not like all your other mirrors. It’s magic. Touch it! Go on, Roman! See what it can do.”

Roman reached. His fingertips touched against the slick surface. A chill coursed through his fingers and down his spine. It sent a tremor of agony and nausea through him so quickly that he stilled for half a second.

Hands shoved him forward.

The surface went from rigid glass to a pool that swallowed him. He tipped and tumbled through the viscous waves of the unknown before the world seemed to right itself. He fell onto ground. Blackness surrounded him. Roman scampered to his feet and turned. He only caught a glimpse of Deceit, of that twisted snake’s smirk, before the image shattered and fell away in pieces. Roman reached for it, but his left hand fell through nothing. There was no image, no mirror, no passage to grant him access to his room. It was vacant black, like the rest of the room.

Roman closed his eyes and pictured his room, his desk, his work. He waited for his body to sink. He stayed put. He raised his arms as if he was going to sink from Thomas’s apartment. He stayed put. He bent his knees slowly as if he was forcing the sinking process to start. He stayed put.

With a sigh, he opened his eyes and glared at the darkness.

“All right,” he whispered, “I’ll just find another way out.”

Roman started walking. He didn’t know where, but he was confident he’d find a way. It was Thomas’s mind, after all. And Thomas wouldn’t leave Roman in the dark unknown without some escape.

Unless...

No. Deceit was terrible at his disguises. Sure, he didn’t see through Patton at first, but that was because Thomas didn’t know about Deceit at the time. He couldn’t be expected to be on the look out for that scale-y side, especially when he was trying to try and help Thomas. But now Thomas knew, and Thomas would be the one that figured out Deceit took his place. That meant he would be able to escape. A door would be made. He’d be able to cross back into the light of the mindscape without too much delay.

He kept walking.

And walking.

And walking.

That confidence he had going into this was dwindling fast. It was the nothing around him. The endless, black nothing that surrounded him like a forest with no trees that existed somewhere, but nowhere. It was then he realized there was no sound either. His feet, his breaths, his movements - they cast no sounds that echoed off any surfaces. He was floating, but not, in a sea of darkness with no escape.

Madness tweaked at the back of his mind.

No! No, no, no, there was no need for that. Roman laughed a little. He would get out. He had to get out. If he couldn’t, then... he’d be... trapped. Forever. Here. Alone.

Roman stopped. He felt a wave of something course through him. It caused his throat to tighten, his chest to heave against air that refused to move from his lungs. His eyes widened at the nothing around him, took in that nothing, and let it sink into his heart, his mind, his soul. It swallowed him. Oh god, it devoured him whole. Roman tore through the darkness again, mind racing as fast as his feet. No. He needed an out, needed a path, needed a way. Could he reach the others? Could he risk trying to summon them? What if they end up in the darkness with him? What would happen to them? To Thomas? Roman couldn’t do that. Not with so many risks and Deceit at the helm. He had to find another way. Find a door, a window, something! Anything! But what?

“Roman!”

A harsh yank pulled at his hair. Roman yelped and stopped. The pull vanished. The darkness stayed. He reached a shaky hand up to his hair and brushed them against the ghost of the summoning. Logan? Had to be. But how? And why didn’t it work? The mirror?

Roman jerked around searching for a pathway that didn’t open up. “Come on, Logan,” Roman growled. He didn’t normally care for the logical side’s harsh summoning methods, but this time, he was grateful for it. He wasn’t alone. Someone was reaching out to him. Maybe it could open a path, show him the way, or some way, at least, out of the black.

“Roman, where are you?!” Patton. There was an echo to it this time. The summoning wasn’t spoken out loud. But Roman could still feel the traces of Patton’s summoning against his arm like a ghosting touch. It was warm. Warm and kind. Immediately, Roman felt a bit of relief with it, like he did with all of Patton’s summonings, but that didn’t last. Not with the panic that rose with the words. That lingered.

“Patton!” Roman yelled.

There was no response. He looked around. Patton hadn’t been summoned. Blessing and a curse.

Alright, so they could reach out to him, but his calls weren’t reaching them. That, or Patton got distracted by something. Hopefully it was something good, like a cute golden retriever, and not one particular snake side, but Roman knew the likelihood of that wasn’t high. At all.

“Roman, I’m trying to help you, hang on.” Virgil. It had the same echo that Patton’s summoning had. Virgil’s, though, wasn’t a gentle tug at his arm. It was cold pricks like a winder rain splashing against his skin. It came as quick as a lightning strike. Roman’s whole body shivered. Then he searched the dark.

“Virgil, what--”

“Don’t summon me, Roman!”

The cold pricks were much stronger. Roman crossed his arms. “Fine, he can try to summon me but I can’t talk with him through it. Whatever, Virge. I’ll just stand around and wait for you three to figure out how to get me out of this mess. No big deal. It’s not like I’m stuck in an endless void or anything. Oh, wait, I am! Waiting for you! Unbelievable.”

The dramatic sigh that followed was meant to provide Roman some level of comfort. It didn’t. The silence that followed it and the traces of cold against Roman’s skin was so unsettling he felt like his skin was crawling. He shivered again and bit his lip.

Then light came.

Roman’s eyes jerked towards the beam from the left. Then his body ran for it.

“Roman!” Virgil again. His echo-y voice. It was dark and laced with panic and fear. Roman’s body teetered towards the cold spikes that lanced against his skin. His own inner fire conflicted with that cold. He held back his summoning to instead focus on getting there, getting to Virgil, crossing through that light.

His body finally made it. He returned and ran towards it. Towards the cold frame, the light surface, his room, Virgil kneeling before it. He heard voices on the other side. They were distorted but he could have sworn he heart Patton’s distressed words. The inner fire that pulled him towards that light now summoned his sword in his left hand. He charged through the surface, through the viscous material, and surged into his room. The familiar reds and whites and traces of fantasy lingered around him. Then he searched the room.

Virgil stared up at him, a mix of fear and relief contorting his face. Roman searched for the source and found it near his real bedroom door. Deceit. His back was to Roman. But in his grasp, pinned against the wall by his throat, was Logan. He couldn’t see the logical side’s face, but he could see the black polo, jeans, and dress shoes that accompanied Logan’s normal look. Patton was saying something against the other wall, but the words didn’t process. All Roman heard was his own heartbeat. All he saw was Deceit’s back and Logan’s struggle. All he felt was rage. Pure, white, rage.

Roman yelled and charged, sword in both hands. Deceit turned. Roman swung. He missed his target, but managed to keep his balance. A cough broke through the patter of Roman’s heartbeat. Deceit was facing him now. Logan was out of his grip. Light illuminated Deceit’s face and brought horrifying, distorted shadows there. It was only then Roman realized that the light came from his sword.

His sword was on fire.

Roman gripped the hilt tighter and glared.

“Get. Out.”

Was that Virgil? No. Roman felt the words leave his throat. That was him. But the harsh tone that came out and the echo that came with it was a direct copy of Virgil’s anxious tone, only deeper, heavier, and full of malice, not fear.

Deceit tensed. Then, without a word, he sank. The floor seemed to swallow him. A dark pool, though, remained only for a second before it disappeared, leaving the white carpet beneath completely intact. Roman took a breath and another to test and see if Deceit was really gone. And he was. Roman knew it. He lowered his sword, extinguished the flames, and let the sword vanish. Then he looked towards Logan.

Logan knelt on the floor, his hand to his throat. Patton was next to him. There were whispered words and assurances between the two of them that Roman couldn’t quite catch. Roman turned to look at Virgil then, satisfied that the two spectacled sides could take care of themselves for the time being. Virgil looked at him with a touch of a smile.

“You sure took your sweet time,” Virgil said. There was no harshness to his tone, but there was a trace of something still lingering. Distress? No, not quite. Roman moved closer.

“Yes, well, I had to make sure my heroism was dramatic. What good is an entrance if you’re going to waste it on poor timi--”

Roman stopped.

There was blood on his carpet.

He traced the crimson back to Virgil’s shaky hands. They were bleeding. The tips and palms traced thick lines against the crevices already there, and new ones made by fragments of glass, no doubt. Roman’s breath caught. Then he closed the gap and knelt down. His hands cupped the back of Virgil’s to steady them so he could better see the wounds.

“I had to put the mirror back together.” Virgil’s voice was soft.

“Did... my summoning...?”

“It didn’t hurt me, relax. I was bleeding before that. It was just distracting. Too hot in the chest and I was already freakin’ out, you know?”

Roman nodded. “Yeah, I gotcha.” He paused to take in the wounds and consider options. “I don’t have a first aid kit.”

“I do.” Logan’s voice rose between them. Roman looked over. Logan was getting to his feet with Patton’s assistance. “We will have to go back to my room for it, however it should have all the tools we need to assist with Virgil’s hands.”

“Virgil’s...” Patton’s gaze flicked over. He gasped. “Oh, Virgil!”

“It’s all right,” Virgil said, “They’ll heal. Anyway, we got Roman back, so it was worth it.”

Roman’s eyes flicked towards Virgil’s. The anxious side’s gaze found his. In those brown eyes, Roman didn’t see a trace of doubt. His vision watered. He blinked. It cleared. Virgil’s soft smile grew a little.

“What, you thought we were going to leave you in there?”

“No,” Roman said, “I just... I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t expecting you guys to get hurt to... save me.”

“You would have done the same for us,” Virgil said.

“I believe you almost did, in fact,” Logan answered. “Though I am certain Deceit would never attempt to fight against you in such a manner. Your appearance, likely, would have been enough without the dramatics.”

“It wasn’t intentional,” Roman said as he looked to Logan. “I was just so mad that he was hurting you and I guess I let that anger get the better of me.”

Logan blinked at him. Then he looked away and adjusted his glasses. “Well, that’s...” Logan cleared his throat. “I am glad that is the first time we witnessed such a display, then. Now, I believe we have more serious matters to attend to. Should we head to my room in order to assist Virgil?”

Roman nodded, happy whatever moment was happening between him and Logan was over. He reached out and helped Virgil to his feet. The anxious side wavered only a little. Then Patton rushed over.

“Here, kid-- Virgil,” Patton said. He reached out his own arms and placed his hands on Virgil’s left elbow and forearm. “Let’s get you to Logan’s room and patch you up.”

“Thanks, Soda Pop,” Virgil murmured. Roman could practically hear the excitement of the nickname radiating of Patton. He let them lead the way out of the room. Logan soon followed.

Roman looked at the mirror, at the elegant gold trim, and smiled himself. Then, with a wave, it was gone, the blackness with it. Though, he knew, that black would never be completely gone. At least he had a light to guide his way through it, though. And that flame is what willed him to turn and walk from his room, following the other three sides into the rest of the mindscape.

#sanders sides #ts roman #ts deceit #ts logan #ts patton #ts virgil #roman #deceit #logan #patton #virgil #fan work #fan fiction #my fan fiction #naprowrimo 2019 #naprowrimo #triggering content #choking #fire #kidnapping #blood #injuries #hand injuries #fighting #violence #broken glass #ts spoilers #spoilers

[lannpaige-blog]

NaProWriMo 2019 Prompt List

Day Six Prompt: the three fates

PG - Warnings for Swearing, War Mentions.

Characters: Virgil, Roman, Patton, and Logan.

Word Count: 2619

I needed to post two today so I could catch up. I started writing these the day after NaProWriMo started.

This is an AU. No spoilers.

The Three Fates

Virgil didn’t want to go to the temple. But it was his eighteenth birthday. He didn’t have a choice.

He trudged out of the village and made his way to the temple. It wasn’t a far walk, but he felt every forced step that led him up that dirt path. It was heavy, like his heart. He was sure it’d be alright once the whole thing was over, but this trip, this moment, marked the end of freedom and the start of “the fated journey”.

Everything about that sucked.

Still, he went. He had to. Nothing could be done.

Ten minutes of walking got him to the temple. It was a large, stone building with a large archway and wooden doors, open seemingly to the public, but Virgil knew it was only for him. The elder stood outside with a smile on his face, greeting Virgil as he approached under the late afternoon sun. “I didn’t think you would make an appearance, my boy,” the elder said.

“Did I have a choice?” Virgil asked. It wasn’t a question. The elder didn’t answer it, though Virgil caught the twitch of a frown poking at the elder’s lips. He moved aside and motioned to the open door. Virgil stepped into the temple. The doors closed behind him.

The temple was illuminated by candles. Candles lined the aisle he walked down, two on each side, next to the start of the bench rows that spread to fit all the people of the village. It wasn’t much, little more than a hundred, but it felt like much more once they were all crammed into this place in the hot summer days. There were also candles on the ledge he walked towards, the ledge before the three statues that claimed his existence. They mirrored the fates of their texts, Roman, Logan, and Patton. The creative, the wise, and the moral.

Virgil knew it was all bullshit. He was going to walk in and kneel before the ledge, the fates wouldn’t say anything, some smoke trick would happen, the village elder will have placed his position in the village on some note that magically appeared, and he’d be sent home, his grand destiny in his hand. He saw the notes the others came back with - the textured paper with the shaky scrawl clearly meant to hide the true writer’s own hand. It was clearly the elder. But he couldn’t fight against the temple, he couldn’t do what he wanted. That’s not how it worked.

He hesitated in front of the ledge, then sighed and knelt down. He bowed his head and rested his clenched fists on his knees.

“Great Fates,” Virgil said, his voice clear if only for the sake of the elder outside who coached him on this damn passage for weeks, “I have come on this, my day of birth, to discover the path you have forged for me. Write me the chosen destiny and allow me to fulfill your wish.”

Virgil’s hands reached out. They pressed upon the three symbols carved into the plate latched onto the ledge. The stone felt cold. He waited. Then he removed his hands, opened his eyes, and lifted his head. The plate where the symbols lie opened. There was nothing at first. But soon, a paper appeared. There it was. The paper. His fate. Virgil reached for it.

A great tremble coursed through the temple. Virgil pressed his hands to the floor and waited for it to pass. A terrifying crack sounded throughout the temple walls. Light seared through the darkened room. Virgil covered his eyes with his arm and ducked his head low. A noise left his throat, but he couldn’t tell what it was over the horrifying tremors and cracks. Then, it passed and what remained was silence.

“Finally!” a voice boomed, “I was starting to think we’d be trapped forever!”

“I wonder how long it’s been,” said another, his voice softer, but full of joy and happiness Virgil hadn’t experienced before.

“If my calculations are correct, it has been approximately four-hundred seventy-six years, nine months, two weeks, four days, five hours, and eleven minutes.”

“How’d you keep track of that?” the second voice asked.

“I have my ways.”

“Well, what matters is we’re free!” the first voice called again.

“Yep!” the second voice chimed, “All thanks to this kiddo right here!”

Virgil let his trembling arms fall and his eyes looked up. The statues of the fates were destroyed. In their place, in a size far smaller than the size of the statues let on, were human-sized versions of the same beings. To the left was Roman, his draped gown and sash now colored white and red, respectively, instead of the stone gray he was shown with. Next to him was Logan, who’s plain gown was a deep blue with speckles of gold, like the night sky reflected against the still waves of the ocean. Then to his right was Patton, who’s bright gown eased in colors and showed something akin to a rainbow, but with lighter versions of colors. Virgil blinked up at them.

“What... is happening?”

“You freed us!” Roman called. Alright, that was clearly the first voice Virgil heard. At least some clarity was being had, though not enough to understand what was fully going on.

“Is that supposed to happen? None of the other villagers told me that would happen,” Virgil said.

“No,” Logan answered, his voice clearly belonging to the third person that had spoke, “You are the only one that could free us upon your eighteenth birthday. Was this story not shared in your sacred texts? It should have been written in once we were sealed into these statues. That was part of the arrangement.”

“What arrangement?”

“You mean, you don’t know about the spell?” Patton asked.

“What spell?! What are you talking about?!”

Virgil winced at the anger in his words, but they were too late to take back now. Should he bow his head and apologize? Would they torture him if they didn’t? The texts did suggest there would be great punishments if the rules of the texts weren’t followed. The three exchanged looks. Virgil prepared an apology in his head and inhaled to speak it. Then Logan motioned. The great text flew from the alter behind Virgil and came into his hands. He opened the pages and flipped through them. The further he got, the more he frowned.

“It appears that some terrible travesty has occurred in our absence,” Logan asked.

“What do you mean?” Patton asked. Logan closed the text.

“I am afraid this is not the text that was crafted by Thomas. This is a different text, one that has been considerably altered to the point where it no longer mirrors the truth. It is useless to us.”

“Great,” Roman said with a dramatic gesture of both of his arms, “Guess that means he’s not prepared either.” He motioned to Virgil. Virgil blinked and looked at the three of them with mounting panic.

“Prepared for what?” he asked.

“Could Thomas’s book still exist somewhere?” Patton asked.

“It will still exist. We will need to go through a process to find it, however. There is nothing that can be done about that now.”

“How long is that going to take us? Another four hundred years?” Roman asked.

“I do not believe so, as he will be necessary in order for the text to be properly used,” Logan said, motioning to Virgil again. Virgil tensed.

“What?!” Virgil yelled.

“He could live for five hundred years,” Roman said.

“Humans do not have a life expectancy of one hundred years, let alone five hundred. It would be unrealistic to assume that this human would sustain life for such a long time.”

“I-”

“Unless we can get a spell to keep him from dying,” Patton said, “Then we can-”

“Hey!”

Virgil’s yell echoed around the hall. He stood. The three fates froze and looked at him. Virgil clenched his fists and his chest heaved out angry breaths.

“You keep saying all this shit about needing me and I don’t know what you’re talk about. So either explain all what’s happening or I’m leaving and you can just go on this quest on your own.”

There was silence. The three fates looked at each other again. Then Logan sighed.

“The texts that have been placed here are false prophecies,” Logan said, “The tales of us are vastly fictionalized and the great war it speaks of was far less victorious for us. Although we were able to defeat the evil presented, it was not completely vanquished as this text claims. On the contrary, quite a bit of that great evil escaped our grasp before we could manage any level of containment. We sought the help of a prophet, Thomas, who determined that a great destiny needed to be forged in order for this great evil to be destroyed. He used his magic to craft this destiny and seal it into the fated crystals, which locked the destiny in place. Once the destiny was set, we were sealed in stone to await the arrival of the chosen born, which would be you. Your role is to use the text that Thomas wrote after we are sealed. There are spells in there that are necessary for destroying the evil, but they are written in a way that only you will be able to read. At least, that was the intention. If this story had not been passed around as was intended, and you have not been able to read even copies of the text, there was no guarantee that such a reading will work. However, your sight is necessary in order for the destiny to be completed.”

“And if it’s not completed?” Virgil asked.

“The great evil will corrupt and destroy what remains of this world.”

Great. Virgil glared at the ground. His eye caught sight of the paper that made it’s way onto the ground. His sight lingered on it a little too long, because hand came in and picked it up.

“What’s this?” Roman asked, holding it between his fingers.

“My fate,” Virgil said, “Everyone in the village gets one on their eighteenth birthday. We’re supposed to come here and get them. Elder says they’re from you.”

“Why would we supply fates?” Logan asked.

“Be... cause you’re the fates?” Virgil asked.

Roman opened the folded paper.

“What’s it say?” Patton asked. Virgil could see the fate bouncing on his toes out of his field of vision.

“Farmer,” Roman said dully.

“This is very disconcerting,” Logan said.

“So the elder lied, big deal,” Roman said.

“No, I am afraid it is far worse than that. This is not simply a lie. This is a belief system built upon a text that is not the true prophecy. We will need to take a copy with us and examine it in more detail to determine how these false stories have been spread. If they have been spread in a way that would prevent are discovery and use of the destined text, we will have far more difficulty retrieving it than realized. You, uh... I’m sorry, I don’t believe we ever got your name.”

Logan’s eyes were on him. The other two looked as well. Virgil lowered his head at the sudden attention and felt heat rise on his cheeks.

“Virgil,” he said.

“Virgil,” Logan repeated, “We will need your assistance with more than just reading texts, and it is quite possible that this journey will be dangerous. Are you able to use any weapons?”

“No.”

“Are you familiar with any kind of magic?”

“No.”

“Are you knowledgeable with-”

“I don’t know how to fight or defend myself, okay?” Virgil snapped. Silence. The three looked at him. Then Roman placed his hands on his hips.

“Well, it’s never too late to start learning,” Roman said, “I can teach you on the way.”

“On the way?” Virgil asked.

“We must find the text as soon as possible,” Logan said, “And it will be too dangerous for you to remain here while we search, especially once the others in your village realize you were responsible for our freedom. They may not be directly tied to the evil forces we need to destroy, but they will certainly spread the word of our revival and your role in it.”

“So I have to go with you?” Virgil asked, “I don’t have a choice?”

“Of course you have a choice,” Patton said, “We can’t make you help us.”

Virgil opened his mouth, but his words caught. He looked at Patton with wide eyes and frowned.

“But... it’s called a destiny."

"Indeed, but it is not your specific destiny. It is a path in a story that requires multiple elements to succeed in order to be fulfilled.” Logan said, his voice still holding that matter-of-fact tone, “In reality, you do have the freedom of choice. However, that choice can cause a rather large effect on either side. If you choose to assist us, we have a chance at completing the prophecy and defeating the great evil. On the other hand, if you decide to not assist us, there is a far higher chance that the great evil will take over. While we can attempt to garner your aide, we cannot force you into either decision. You must make the choice yourself.”

“But the whole thing about this eighteenth birthday thing is to get told what to do.”

“Ew,” Roman said, “Why would you want that?”

“I didn’t want that,” Virgil said, “But I always thought that that’s just how it was.”

“Well, it’s not that way, kiddo,” Patton said, “You have a choice. Do you want to help us?”

“We will help protect you if any difficulties were to arise,” Logan said.

“And we can teach you how to defend yourself,” Roman said, “Also, Patton’s a good healer if you do happen to get hurt.”

“Or if Roman happens to stab you,” Logan said.

“That was an accident!” Roman yelled.

“Ah, but it still happened, which mean there is a likelihood of it happening again.”

“Yeah, and maybe next time it’ll be-”

“I’ll do it,” Virgil said. Silence. The three stared at him again. Virgil lowered his head and shifted from one foot to the other. “I’ll... help you.” He raised his head then. “But I want to be included in decisions if we’re all trying to figure out where to go or whatever. And I want to get to a point where I can help myself if I get into trouble. I don’t want you guys saving me all the time.”

“Agreed,” Logan said, “We should leave. Do you wish to... say goodbye to anyone?”

“Nah,” Virgil said, “Better they not know I left with you guys, right?”

“Indeed,” Logan said with the softest of smiles.

“Let’s get going then!” Roman called. Then he snapped his fingers. The clothes of the three fates changed into something akin to what Virgil was wearing - long cloaks of various colors with hoods and some tattered clothing. They looked younger, almost Virgil’s age, with all that on instead of their elegant gowns.

“Is there another exit other than the obvious one behind you?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, there’s a back door,” Virgil answered, “I’ll take you to it.”

He walked around the ledge and towards the back of the front hall. As he passed Patton, the moral fate gave him a bright smile and bounced a little. Guess he was happy with the choice Virgil made. At that moment, Virgil wasn’t sure how happy he personally was with it, but it definitely seemed better than the alternative, and that was enough.

#sanders sides #ts virgil #ts patton #ts logan #ts roman #virgil #patton #logan #roman #fan work #fan fiction #my fan fiction #naprowrimo #naprowrimo 2019 #swearing #war mentions

[lannpaige-blog]

NaProWriMo 2019 Prompt List

Day Eleven Prompt: by the earth

PG - Warnings for Talks of Gods.

Characters: Logan, Patton, Virgil, and Roman

Word Count: 1732

No spoilers. This is an AU.

By The Earth

The gods had given up on the earth a long time ago.

Now, once every five earth cycles, flocks of young gods would tail behind their elders and walk around a large human city as a class, their words masked to match those of typical trips human teenagers took.

Logan dresses more formally than his peers - he made the choice of including a collared shirt and necktie - but no roaming human eyes stuck upon him, or any of the others in their group for that matter. They slid off, danced away, distracted by trinkets and toys and talks of their own with others who smiled and laughed and fawned. Logan frowned at the beings. How small they were. How insignificant. They could never know the wonders of the universe beyond what their little sphere allowed. Though their technologies were fascinating, they were primitive, boring, plain, compared to what even the most limited gods could accomplish. No wonder why earth was such a lost cause.

They toured these streets and their elder talked. These were topics Logan was already familiar with, but he took them in again. There was the war before the rise in technology, the god’s choice to walk away, the discussion on humans attempting to become gods with these technologies that they try to create. They would never achieve what the gods could. Why did they try?

They turned into a museum then. The elder’s lecture changed from history to art then. A terrible assortment of framed colors lined the walls. No three-dimensional displays, no weaving of the stars, no clouds of infinite colors. It was flat, painted, drawn, dull, as everything else in this humanized earth had become.

Logan glanced at the pieces one-by-one as the elder droned about the history of art and how much they had yet to accomplish. And, at this rate, how little they would accomplish given the terrible rate at which humanity’s decline was headed. Part of Logan felt bad for these lesser beings. Part of him felt these humans had it coming.

“It looks so good!”

The chime of a voice rose above that of Logan’s elder. The elder did not even pause. The group didn’t stop walking. Logan noticed some heads turn towards the noise, if only to see what caused the disruption in the silence. Logan turned a moment later and peered through a large archway leading into another gallery. The group moved ahead. His own feet stopped.

Inside the gallery was smaller paintings, more intimate things, that appeared far more detailed than the larger pieces that his class had walked by. He allowed his curiosity to move his body through the archway and into that small gallery. Upon entering, the sign that marked the exhibit around him became clear on the metal easel it sat upon.

The Artistic Lyfe Scholarship Winners Logan peered around the gallery. Many of the pieces appeared to be abstracts, similar to those outside the small room, but others, including the one that three people crowded around, appeared to be far more realistic, far more detailed. The one those three crowded around, Logan noticed, was front and center on his left, highlighted by its glorified position. The human that stood in the middle seemed to hop up and down before turning and giving the hunched over human to his left a hug.

“You did amazing, Virgil!” that hugging human said. His voice was identical to the one Logan had heard earlier. He cringed at the volume in that small space, which seemed ot echo off the other paintings.

“You’re gonna get us in trouble,” that hunched over human said in response, his voice far lower.

“Sorry,” the first human said, his voice almost a whisper.

“Patton’s right though,” the third finally said, his voice deeper than the other two, but something about that tone carried well in the space, “This is amazing. No wonder why you won the biggest scholarship. Now I can say the guy who painted all the stage backdrops is going to be a famous artist.”

“You guys are just biased,” the second boy, this Virgil, said.

“The judges weren’t biased,” Roman said. Virgil shrugged. The first boy who spoke looked around. Then his eyes landed on Logan. Eye contact. The boy smiled. Oh no.

“Hey, you’re not biased,” the boy said, then he started approaching. Logan tensed. Human hands grasped his arm and rushed him over to the painting. They stopped. Logan was positioned in front of it, his eyes taking in the piece. The boy hopped up and down next to him. “What do you think?”

In truth, Logan had no opinions on the piece. He did not have negative feelings towards it, like he did with the abstract pieces around the museum, and there was a certain pleasantness to the trees and shadows and figures that were painted upon the canvas, but it was still merely a painting, a human concept, something touched of human hands. Not godly. Logan adjusted his glasses.

“I do not have an opinion of art one way or another,” Logan said simply, grateful that he’d left out human. Perhaps that would be his saving grace.

“Then why are you here?” Virgil asked.

“School trip.”

“Did you get separated from your class?” the hopping boy asked as he stopped his hopping. Logan looked at him and saw a dusting of brown across the boy’s nose and cheeks. How odd. No one ever told Logan humans possessed such marks.

“Yes,” Logan said. “I should be going to find them.”

“We can go with you if you want,” the boy said, “This place is awfully big.”

“I believe I can manage on my own,” Logan answered, “Thank you for your assistance. And if it is any consolation, I doubt the judges of all these pieces would have chosen a painting unworthy of such a high honor. Although I personally do not appreciate art, that does not mean your art is unworthy of the praise it is receiving.”

There was silence. Logan caught Virgil’s eye. There was a touch of shock there, lingering beneath straight bangs. Then his head dipped down and his cheeks started to turn red. Logan felt something in his chest twist.

“Thanks,” the boy murmured.

Logan nodded, though the boy didn’t see it, then he turned and headed towards the archway. Once he was out of their sight, Logan turned the next corner and took a deep breath. He lingered in the shadows there and allowed himself to compose the little frayed nerves he had. When was the last time a god had talked to humans? More importantly, when was the last time a god had come into physical contact with humans? He would have to figure that out.

He head footsteps and he slid further into the shadows. A little more time was all he needed, then he could head back to his peers. Before then, though, he would have to avoid the attention of more people. People that, oddly, sounded like the boys he had just encountered.

“I thought he was pretty,” the first boy said.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t,” replied the one with the deep voice, “I just said he was a little odd. I mean, what kind of man doesn’t appreciate art? Next thing you’ll tell me is the guy doesn’t know anything about acting, and that is a crime for someone that looks that good.”

“Me not seeing Moana the weekend it came out was a crime to you,” Virgil said.

“Because that is a crime!”

“He was really nice to Virgil though, so that has to count for something,” the first boy said. Their voices started to fade as they journeyed further and further away. “We should have got his name.”

“Or his number!” the deep voice said.

“You guys are ridiculous,” Virgil said.

“You liked him, shut up,” the first boy said.

“Even if I did, it’s too late to get anything from him now. He’s gone.”

“Not forever if fate has to say anything about it,” the deep voice said, “Who knows, maybe he’s the prince of one of our dreams, brought to us in this moment by a wish one of us made on one of those fallen stars so many years ago.”

“What do you mean ‘years ago’? You know Patton still wishes on those things.”

“Yeah, but I wish for world peace, not people,” the first boy said.

Logan blinked. A wish for world peace? There was little that wishes did without the will of the strongest gods, but to use every wish on one large thing? That was certainly unusual. So usual, in fact, that Logan found himself wanting to learn more about these wishes of the boy’s. He pulled himself from the shadows and jogged to catch up.

“Excuse me,” he said. The three stopped and turned. The hopping boy, this Patton fellow, grinned at him. Virgil frowned, though Logan could tell that there was something in the man’s presence that was comforted. The last boy gave a one-sided smile of sort. “I apologize for interrupting. I’m afraid you are quite right, this place is rather large. Perhaps, if you don’t mind, you could assist me in finding my class?”

“Of course!” the third boy said, “But first, you have to give us your name. It’s only fair.”

“I am Logan.”

“Logan!” Patton said, “I’m Patton, that’s Virgil, and he’s Roman. It’s nice to meet you!”

They walked and talked for several minutes before the class was discovered. Logan blended right back in with them. He wasn’t sure if his peers knew of his absence. If they had, no one said anything. Yet, he was fully aware of that time away from the other gods, aware of what it brought, aware of the feelings that absence had filled.

Logan left earth that day with his peers.

The next time he came by earth, he came alone. He found the three that were so quick to befriend them and he refused to leave their sides. And sometimes, when he saw a shooting star streak across the sky in his apartment he now shared with Patton, he would also wish for world peace and put his own little power in the world. Maybe, eventually, it would accumulate. Maybe, eventually, gods would come by the earth and praise the peace that was built after years of assuming destruction was inevitable. Maybe.

#sanders sides #ts logan #ts patton #ts virgil #ts roman #logan #patton #virgil #roman #fan work #fan fiction #my fan fiction #naprowrimo #naprowrimo 2019

[lannpaige-blog]

NaProWriMo 2019 Prompt List

Day Seven Prompt: rotten hands

PG-13 - Warnings for Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood Mentions, Body Horror, Buried Alive, Decay, Horror, and Nightmares.

Characters: Roman, Patton

Word Count: 1446

This does take place after Selfishness v. Selflessness | Sanders Sides, but there are no direct references to it. I’m tagging it as spoilers just in case, but you could read it without having seen the episode and be fine.

Rotten Hands

Roman’s hands shoveled into dirt, tossed dirt aside, shoveled again, tossed it aside again, over and over and over. Repetitive. Necessary. Painful. His fingers shook, fingertips throbbed, palms sweat, dirt stuck. His hands begged for him to stop, but he couldn’t. The screams from below the heap of earth barreled through his heart and ripped the need to reach those cries through him. His body moved in the frantic pattern without his mind properly processing what the motions were or how to stop them.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Roman whispered over and over, his voice as harsh as a stormy night wind. Handful after handful of dirt piled next to him. The ground opened. The path to the screams grew wider. The wails grew louder. With them came other sounds. Pounding, scratching, sobbing. Roman’s heart replicated the sounds with it’s own frantic motions and created a discordance that tore through his limbs, his motions, his mind. He had to reach, he had to reach, he had to reach--

Finally, Roman’s fingers came into contact with something hard. His filthy fingernails clashed against wood.

Silence.

Roman stopped. His heart slammed against his chest.

No. No, no, no, no--

Roman dug with trembling hands, not caring about the sprouts of pain that shot through his fingers and up his arms as they clashed against the wood time and time again. The lid became clear. Roman summoned his sword, shoved it a little between the tight planks, and heaved. He expected his sword to break. Somehow, though, it remained in one piece as the plank groaned in agony and then came loose with a booming crack. Roman sent his sword away, tossed the plank aside, and removed the next with his bare hands and as much force as he could muster. Beams of moonlight tore through the opening and illuminated the side he heard screaming. His heart twisted and churned.

Patton was still. His eyes were closed. His pale features were ghostly and the dark circles under the eyes mirrored Virgil’s eye shadow, but there was nothing false about it. Roman’s dirt-caked hands reached forward, trembled, stopped above Patton’s face. His sore fingertips touched the skin. Patton was so cold. Roman shivered, but brought his hands closer, let his palms touch.

Dead eyes shot open.

Roman reeled back, his hands flinching away from those cold cheeks. Clouded eyes stared up at him. Hesitation. Then trembling fingers rose from that coffin. Blood caked the fingertips. Fingertips that came closer, that pointed at him, that started to decay the closer they got.

“Why...” Patton croaked out. The effort sent a ripple effect through that body. Cheeks, mouth, throat, all started to decay. Roman pressed his back against the side of the grave and slammed his eyes shut.

The cold of the night was immediately replaced with something warm. The hard wall felt soft. Fabric appeared underneath. Roman clutched his hands against it and felt them tremble against the soft cloth. Then he opened his eyes. Above him wasn’t the night sky, but lights like stars that drifted with no destination. Past them was the red draped bed canopy, the crimson fabrics providing his mind with three realizations:

This was Roman’s room. He’d been asleep. That was all a dream.

Roman shivered and gathered his blankets and comforter close to him. Their heat sank through his flesh and touched his rattling bones. His frantic mind and heart tried to settle into the realization that none of that image was real. It should have been easy for him - he imagined grand stories and characters and settings all the time that formed with great wonder in the mindscape - yet he couldn’t let it go. No, he couldn’t let that image of Patton go. The decaying flesh, the reaching fingers, the croaked out single word. Roman so rarely had nightmares. Maybe that’s why it clung to his mind so desperately and refused to be released.

Or maybe it was a sign that Patton was in danger.

That final thought threw Roman out of bed. The ran into the hallway, turned, ran to Patton’s door, and knocked. It was more of a pounding, one that mirrored the scampering of his heart listening to the frantic thought rotating like clockwork in his mind. Patton’s in danger, Patton’s in danger, Patton’s in danger, Patton’s--

The door opened a little slowly. Patton stood there, a hand tucked under his glasses wiping away the bits of sleepiness that remained under his black frames. He was wearing light blue pajamas that were a little too big for him, but very dad like in their buttoned-up, matching set. He blinked at Roman and lowered his hand, the trace of sleepiness drained away into worry. Roman noticed how pink Patton’s hand was, the traces of red on his cheeks, the brown of his widening brown eyes. All the colors of life lingered on his complete, full skin.

“Is everything all right, Roman?”

Roman sighed and bent over, hands on his knees. The panic that resided in his bones attempted to heave out with the air that once occupied his lungs, but traces of it lingered. He took another breath, another, and realized those fragments of fear weren’t going to leave so easily. Still, he stood up again and looked at Patton once more. Patton stared back, eyes wide and scanning, mouth open ever-so-slightly. Roman nodded, the movement a little shaky.

“Yeah, everything’s good,” Roman said, his voice coming out as a sigh, “I’m sorry, Pat. I shouldn’t have woke you. I just had a bad dream and thought you might be in danger. It’s silly, I know.”

Patton smiled a calm, understanding smile. “It’s not silly. It’s good to know you care that much. Do you want to talk about it?”

Roman shook his head. “Not tonight.”

“Okay, well, is there anything else I can do to help you?”

“I’ve bothered you enough.”

“You haven’t bothered me at all.”

Roman smiled a little, then let it fade as he scanned Patton’s lively face. The traces of tiredness were creeping back into those full features. Roman knew he couldn’t keep Patton up. But he wanted a hug, or to cuddle, or just some assurance that Patton wasn’t going to completely decay in the middle of the night. There was a way to do that and ensure that Patton still slept. But they weren’t kids anymore. Asking Patton to stay the night in his room seemed so childish. Yet, he wanted it. He looked down at the floor and cleared his throat.

“Well,” Roman said, “If you don’t mind, you think we can share a bed the rest of the night? Like we used to when times got really bad?”

“Sure,” Patton said, “Mine or yours?”

“Mine, if that’s okay.”

Patton stepped out of his room and shut the door. Roman led the way back to his room, opened it for Patton, and let the other side come in. The door was shut. Patton was climbing into the bed before Roman even had a chance to get to it. He heard the soft click of Patton’s glasses on the far bedside table as he climbed into bed himself. There was space between their bodies as they got settled in. Patton sighed.

“We haven’t done this in a long time,” Patton said, his tired voice hushed, though not quite a whisper. Roman hummed in response and let his head hit the pillows. Patton turned to face him and settled in himself. “I don’t remember your bed being this soft.”

“It’s been upgraded since you were last here.”

“I like it,” Patton said. Then he moved closer. Roman felt his body heat first, then Patton’s arms circled around him. His head pressed into Roman’s chest. “It helps that there’s a handsome prince here to protect me.”

Roman remembered the late night thunder storms, the fearful squeaks that Patton made, his own dramatic declarations of protection, the late nights of cuddling together against the elements that tore through the mindscape, the morning after with them trying to assess how to best get through the next moments, the soft ‘thank you’s from Patton, the assurances from himself. Roman brought his arms around Patton and brought him closer.

“I will always protect you, Pat,” Roman said. His mind went back to the dream, to the decay. His fingers twitched against Patton’s back.

“I know you will,” Patton answered, his voice a whisper.

Soon, Patton was asleep, his heavy breaths rhythmic, calming, warm. Roman closed his eyes and let the rest of his senses take in Patton’s breathing. The thoughts of decay vanished as sleep overtook him once more.

#sanders sides #ts roman #ts patton #roman sanders #patton sanders #roman #patton #naprowrimo 2019 #naprowrimo #fan work #my fan fiction #fan fiction #triggering content #nightmares #buried alive #body horror #decay #decaying #angst with a happy ending #ts spoilers #spoilers #just in case #horror #blood mentions #screaming

[lannpaige-blog]

NaProWriMo 2019 - Prompt 2

NaProWriMo 2019 Prompt List

Day Two Prompt: steel bones

T - Warnings for Abandoned/Haunted Locations, Ghosts, Animatronics, Death Mentions, and Swearing

Characters: Logan, Patton, Roman, and Virgil

Word Count: 1744

This is inspired by Fave Nights at Freddy’s, but the back story and universe is different. Also, no dead kids in this one. Hurray!

Steel Bones

There were people here again.

He could hear two of them stomping around on the floor above him. He could have sworn he heard a third set too, timidly tip-toeing behind them as if, somehow, that would hide all their approaches. It wouldn’t have mattered how many of them tried to conceal their entrance. He’d been here for twenty-five years, though. There was no way he wouldn’t notice the noises of frightened feet tapping against warped wood. He rolled his eyes. The subtle creak of untreated springs wailed in his mind. It didn’t stop the feet above. Nothing would until they left the way they came.

He had to see to that.

With his own quiet steps, he walked across the concrete basement to the door. Behind him, he could hear the screeches and scrapes of others like him clawing behind the opposing door. They heard, too, then. Not a surprise, given the state of their graveyard, but not welcome either.

He stepped up the stairs and stopped at the top. He heard voice then. Soft whispers, unlike the feet above him had been.

“Let’s get out of here,” said the first.

“We just got here,” said the second, “Besides, didn’t you want to investigate the mysteries of this place?”

“Yeah, I do. Online. I don’t actually give a shit about being here.”

“Virgil, language,” said a third. Ah, so there were three people. From the sound of it, they were all coming from the back part of what had once been the arcade. That made matters a little difficult, though not completely impossible.

“I don’t give a damn about my language, Patton. All I care about is getting the hell out of this place. It was stupid to come here in the first place.”

“You can leave if you want,” the second voice said, “But I’m staying. There’s got to be some kind of secrets in this place and I want to find them.”

Ah, yes. The old “there’s got to be something here” routine. He had heard it so many times by now. That was the dangers of having so many stories about the place floating around. Kids flocked to this place and dug through the remains to try to find out what happened all those years ago. Even after all this time, they didn’t let it go. The motives never changed. Just the faces and the clothes and sometimes the words. Like “online”. So recent a word, so important to these children, this society, but why?

“I don’t know, Roman,” said the third voice. Patton, he surmised. “Maybe we should leave. It’s pretty scary and it could be really dangerous. We could get sick being in here.”

“Or we could get attacked. You think people don’t live in this dump?” Virgil asked, his voice harsher than it had been before. Astute, but far too late to consider that option. Though, he did suddenly wonder if that was a deterrent for some people. He made a mental note to make the space look more “lived in”, as to deter unwelcome guests in the future.

“Relax, I’m here,” said the second voice again. Roman. Yes, Roman. “I won’t let anything happen to you two.”

Brave. Stupid, yet so brave.

He heard footsteps again. A single set, moving towards the front door.

“Fine, do whatever you want,” Virgil growled, “I’m out of here.”

“Virgil, wait!” Patton yelled. More footsteps. These were lighter, but quick. They headed towards the same direction. “You can’t just leave. It’s not safe walking back to campus by yourself.”

“Well I’m not staying here any longer. You can come back with me if you want. Since Roman’s such a hero, he can take care of hims-”

Two bodies cut into his line of sight. The first, a thin, hooded man, stopped and jerked his head towards him. His jaw slacked. He jerked back. His lungs heaved the air around them. The other nearly ran into the first. Then it turned it’s head too. Their eyes hit his metal frame. They widened, both tensed.

“Run!” Virgil yelled. He obeyed his own command.

Patton stayed put. Though the fear was quiet apparent in his wide expression. He needed some motivation, then. With a bit of effort, he flicked the switch at the back of his head without moving his body. His left eye flashed on, it’s neon blue illuminating the young man. He looked white, pale, horrified. Yet, he still didn’t move. Odd. That had worked always worked before.

Suddenly, a new figure entered the light. He was dressed in a red hooded sweatshirt that had a golden crown painted on it, a pair of jeans, and red Converse shoes. Odd. He wasn’t aware Converse shoes were still in fashion. The young adult surged in front of Patton and put up his arms.

“Run, Patton, I got him!” Roman yelled.

“Why... isn’t he moving?” Patton asked.

He moved then. He took a step forward. His aged metal body squalled at the effort. Virgil came back into view and grabbed Patton’s arm.

“Come on!” Virgil yanked. Patton took two off-balance steps, then stopped again. Those eyes fell onto his metal body once more. This time, though, there was no fear in them. They were too narrowed for that.

“But what if it’s one of the ghosts? What if he’s just lonely?”

He heard a deep screech from downstairs. He didn’t have time to consider the implications of the sudden change of feeling, nor the thought that such words had not been stated before in the years since he started scaring unwanted guests away.

“Are you serious?” Virgil asked, “This thing, whatever it is, is not a dead person. It’s an old, busted animatronic. That’s it!”

“We don’t know that,” Patton said.

He took another step towards them. Roman backed up a step, but kept his body firmly in front of Patton and Virgil.

“Yeah, sure, okay, we don’t,” Virgil said, “And we’re not going to find out either. That thing clearly wants us out of here, so we’re leaving.”

“But it hasn’t done anything really scary! What if it just wants friends?”

Of all the ill-conceived notions that anyone could ponder at such a moment, that had to be the most preposterous he had ever heard. For a moment, he sympathized with this Virgil character, who let out the most frustrating groan he had ever heard in his life. Then, he remembered his old vocal cords, the ones still locked firmly into the throat of the animatronic. He hadn’t used them in at least ten years. Did they still work? He didn’t know.

He was about to find out.

With some effort, he worked the box attached to the wires in his neck. It crackled and screeched for a moment. Then, words came. Two of them. Spaced out. Harsh.

“Leave. Now.”

“That’s it!” Virgil yelled. He yanked Patton towards the door. The two bodies flailed towards it. Patton’s eyes didn’t leave him until they were out of view. Then Roman chased after them.

He was sure that was the last he’d see of those three young men.

The next night, however, he heard footsteps again that stopped in the front doorway. The cries of the suffering in the second basement didn’t sound. Still, he forced his way up the stairs to usher forth another wake of fear.

He stopped when he saw Patton standing in the doorway.

“You’re guarding this place,” Patton said, “Why?”

He said nothing. He hoped that was answer enough. Patton crossed his arms and glared.

“I’m not leaving until you give me answers, mister.”

He thought of frightening answers he could provide. In truth, though, he had not considered any lies before. Everything his mind came up with seemed implausible. So he settled on the truth. There was a saying about such matters, wasn’t there? About truth being scarier than fiction? Perhaps, though it had been so long since he recalled it that he could be wrong about the statement.

“There are,” he started, his voice box crackling and popping like an old record player churning, “Others. They are. Dangerous.”

Patton blinked. His glare lessened. “You’re protecting... us?”

“Correct.”

Patton frowned and shifted. “Are there others like you? Others that aren’t dangerous?”

“There is. Only me.”

Patton looked at the ground. His body shifted again. The boards creaked. He waited for the howling of the steel bodies below, but they never came. He would have sighed if he had been capable of such a thing. Perhaps his voice box could utter one, though he found such a noise pointless.

“I guess you’re lonely then, huh?”

He said nothing in response. Indeed, he was lonely. He missed the company of others more than anything, though he would have never believed that when he was alive. But he knew the dangers of others visiting him, no matter how kind they seemed. This one, this Patton, could not visit him again, regardless of how much he wanted to.

“You. Cannot. Be here.”

Patton’s eyes flicked up to him again. “You’re not going to keep me away.”

“Dangerous.”

“You said that, but you also said you’re the only kind one and it’s not fair that you’re here protecting people when you have no friends. What kind of person would I be if I knew that and still walked away right now? I’ll tell you. I’d be a crummy one. And I don’t want to be a crummy person to you. I want to be a friend. And if that means coming to see you in this scary place and putting myself in a little danger, I’m going to do that.”

Everything in him wanted to reach forward and shove Patton out of the building. Yet, he didn’t. There was so much consideration and kindness in those words, and he found himself stuck. He wanted a friend. There was no denying that. But would he risk the life of another to obtain that friend?

In this moment, did he have a choice?

No, it did not seem like he did.

“Now, friends should know each other’s names,” the man said with a growing smile, “I’m Patton. What’s your name?”

He hesitated. He still had a chance. He could walk away from the invitation and save Patton from continuous risk. But he felt his desire for a friend win out, and he spoke, his monotone voice box hiding the conflict racing through his mind.

“Logan.”

#sanders sides #ts logan #ts patton #ts roman #ts virgil #logan #patton #roman #virgil #fan work #fan fiction #my fan fiction #naprowrimo 2019 #naprowrimo #triggering content #animatronics #haunted places #ghosts #haunted objects #death mentions #angst #loneliness

[lannpaige-blog]

NaProWriMo 2019 Prompt List

Day Twelve Prompt: these marmalade skies

PG - no warnings

Pairing: Logince

This is not a story. It’s a poem, written by Roman for Logan. It’s very short, but it took me a long time to write because poetry is not my department.

These Marmalade Skies

You wait beneath these marmalade skies, For lights beyond those man has made, In hopes that you may see a star fly In our part of the Milky Way.

What I see is not darkening skies, Nor stars peering through this cool day, But the gleam growing in your bronze eyes As the orange-ing skies start to fade.

As your pale face begins to rise To glimpse upon the day’s last rays, I wonder if you feel my eyes lie Upon the sight across my way.

While I know you’re not the star-filled skies At which you marvel and give praise, You manage to easily reprise The elegance that they portray.

How I long to vocally apprise You beauty in this dying day, But I dare not try to compromise The awe which makes your wise mind stray.

#sanders sides #ts roman #ts logan #roman #logan #i'll be real #i'm not super happy with this #but i made a commitment #so it's going up #naprowrimo #naprowrimo 2019 #fan work #my fan fiction

[lannpaige-blog]

NaProWriMo 2019 Prompt List

Day Twenty-Four Prompt: my body, a temple

PG - Warnings for depressed Roman.

Characters: Roman, Logan.

Pairings: Logince

Word Count: 1569

My Body, A Temple

Roman curled up on his bed and stared, not seeing, and the room around him. He wanted to get up, wanted to be productive, wanted to shower, to dress, to work on the projects that Thomas needed him to. He couldn’t though. His mind refused to let his body free.

Roman clutched the pillow he was holding tighter against his chest and hid his face into it. The fabric was hot, but Roman couldn’t get himself to care. It was dark there. He wanted the dark. Needed it. Maybe it would swallow him whole and he could drift in it, no thoughts, no feelings, no desperate attempts to free himself from its hold. He could just be, without effort, without care, in a space of endless mental forgiveness.

A series of four knocks shattered Roman out of his thoughts.

He pulled the pillow closer and let out an unintentional whimper. He didn’t want anyone in. He didn’t want anyone to see. But the door to his room opened anyway. There was a pause. Then there were footsteps, a door closed, more footsteps getting closer. Roman tensed and steeled himself mentally. It was likely Patton. Light would come in. Blinding light that tried to beam through the darkness, but Patton didn’t know how much that light hurt. It seared through him, burned his mind, and forced Roman into moods that were too jovial, too cheerful, too unlike what he wanted to be in that moment that he had to expend too much energy.

A hand pressed against his back. A body climbed into his bed. Another hand brushed onto his shoulder and gently massaged the skin there.

“Are you awake?” Logan asked.

Oh good, Logan. Better than Patton, but not by much. Sure, Logan knew Roman’s struggles better than Patton would, but Logan was also his boyfriend. Roman was the one that should have been saving Logan, not the other way around. He wanted to turn, throw on his bravado, and serenade the man until the morning shifted to afternoon and birds flocking to the voice could be seen outside the window, their beautiful hues a reflection of the colors Roman felt in his soul in the most romantic of moments. But he couldn’t do that. That was too much effort. His body and mind wouldn’t allow it. So he nodded against the fabric of the pillow and bit back words that would’ve come out choked by the tearful desire to do something beyond this action.

Logan’s thumb brushed against Roman’s shoulder and the hand on his back moved up and brushed though Roman’s hair slowly, gently. These touches weren’t mechanical, like one might expect from the logical side. Roman was surprised himself the first time Logan’s fingers combed through his hair with that perhaps calculated gentleness. It felt so intimate. Roman relished in that.

“I am to assume you are not feeling well. Is that correct?”

Roman nodded again. He expected a sigh and a lecture. Logan was good at those. The hands didn’t stop their gentle motions though.

“Have you made any successful attempts at leaving bed?”

Roman shook his head.

“Is there anything that you require that would make this process easier?”

Roman blinked. In all the years he’d been experiencing this depression, he’d never been asked that before. He lifted his face from the pillow and turned his head to look at Logan. The logical side looked down at him. His stoic express mixed with a touch of concern stared back. Roman glanced over that look for a second.

“Really?” Roman asked. His insecurity was on full display in his voice. Front and center. Logan nodded in response. Roman considered. Then he let go of the pillow, turned onto his other side, wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist, and pulled himself into Logan’s lap. Logan’s hands shifted. The one on his shoulder moved to Roman’s other once he settled. The other went back to brushing through Roman’s hair. Logan was cooler than the pillow had been - he wasn’t one to collect as much body heat - and Roman settled into it.

Although this new position was nice, it didn’t change the cycling of Roman’s thoughts. In fact, Logan’s presence made them worse. The logical side didn’t want to be here, likely. He wanted to be working. He probably came in to make sure Roman was working in the first place and this attempt at comfort is only to get Roman to work faster. He doesn’t care. He can’t care. Even in the moments where Logan says he cares, he can’t possibly.

Roman’s arms clutched tighter against Logan. Then, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“There is no need to apologize, Roman,” Logan said, “You are not always able to control how you feel. That is the nature of having the condition that you do.”

“But I’m sure you don’t want to be here helping me.”

“Your conviction in such a thought is misplaced. I do not wish to leave you in this moment. You require support, if not assistance, and I wish to provide you with both at this time. I would understand if you were to reject such actions but there is no other place I wish to be in moments where you feel as you do right now.”

Roman’s grip tightened. He bit his lip to hold back tears. It didn’t work. He nuzzled into Logan’s stomach and attempted to hide them, but he was sure the wetness soaked into the fabric.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

They remained there for several moments. It gave Roman enough time to collect himself and stop the tears that streamed like a trickling creek down his cheeks. Once he felt the tears stall, Roman gave himself a few more moments to compose himself. He focused on his breaths, on his body, on the motions of Logan’s hands across his skin and through his hair. Despite the heaviness that clouded his mind, this was nice. He couldn’t fully appreciate it like he wanted, but he could still look at this through his filtered mind and decide that this was a good memory over all.

Roman pulled himself away from it, and Logan, as he sat up and rubbed the remnants of tears onto his left arm pajama sleeve. Logan’s hands left him for a moment, then returned to brush through his hair and cup Roman’s cheeks once Roman’s arm fell away. Thumbs brushed against his cheekbones. Roman stared into Logan’s brown eyes.

“Are you better?” Logan asked.

“A little,” Roman whispered. His voice sounded less fragile, but Roman didn’t feel all that strong yet. Maybe that showed. Roman wasn’t sure. Logan leaned forward and gently kissed Roman on the lips. It was lengthy, but soft and emotionally intimate. Roman leaned into it a little. Then he lifted his hands and let them rest on Logan’s elbows. The kiss broke. Their touches did not. Roman opened his eyes and saw a trace of a smile on Logan’s face, but it fell almost immediately.

“Do you believe you are well enough to bathe? I believe some hygiene could make you feel better.”

“I think I can do that,” Roman said.

Logan nodded. “I will retrieve your clothes so you will be able to focus on bathing. Is that acceptable?”

“Yeah, that’d be fine.”

“Excellent.” Logan finally let his hands drop. Then he leaned in once more and kissed Roman lightly on the cheek. After a second, he pulled back and eased from the bed. Roman expected him to go to the dresser on the other side of the room. Instead, Logan held out his hand. Roman accepted it and let Logan help him off the bed. They stood there for a moment. Then Roman looked away and on to the floor.

“I know that you don’t like flowery smells,” Roman said, “But I have this body wash that I want to try and it might be a little flowery.”

“If you believe it will allow you to feel better, then I support it’s use,” Logan said, “Besides, I am not allergic to such scents, therefore they will not be harmful for me. What you need is far more important than my preferences for scents in this instance. Do not worry about me. Take care of your body as you would like.”

“‘cause my body is a temple, right?”

“I suppose that could apply here, though I am more of the belief that your body is an extension of your mind. In order to care for your mind, you should go through the process of caring for your body as well. If you physically feel better, it is possible for your mind to feel better as well, though, in your case, that may not result in a complete turn-around. Still, it could provide you with some relief and, perhaps, a small improvement in your mental health, which I am sure would be welcome in this instance.”

Roman nodded. Then he took a deep breath, smiled a little, then leaned in a gave Logan a soft kiss. It only lasted a second. Then he broke that contact, smiled again, and turned to the bathroom. He didn’t bother shutting the door behind him. Logan had already seen him exposed that morning. There was no need to shut him out of the bathroom, even when Roman prepared the shower and finally stepped out of his pajamas.

Tag List:

@combine-the-kitchens

#sanders sides #logince #ts roman #ts logan #depressed roman #roman #logan #fan work #fan fiction #my fan fiction #depression