Welcome to my sideblog for writing! My main is @kieraelieson if you want to say hi! I’m very slowly uploading all my stories, and eventually I may catch up to myself.
The sides all have animal forms they shift into, but they’ve been hiding them from each other. Slowly, they each learn to accept each other and themselves, which leads to much fun and shenanigans.
Trust is Difficult to Give (But Easily Broken)
Sanders Sides, Complete
Virgil and Logan are cat hybrids, and meet Patton, who got a job at the pet store. Patton, and his roommate Thomas, adopt them and try to give them the best life possible, despite Many serious challenges.
Human/Fairy Relations
Sanders Sides, Complete
Thomas stumbles into a fairy circle, and gets kidnapped by Anxiety. He makes friends with Patton, another human kidnapped by a fairy named Logic. Together, they escape, and try to find a new way of getting along with the fairies.
February Prompts (G/t)
Sanders Sides, Complete
G/t Prompt fills, some connected, some not.
100 G/t Prompts
Sanders Sides, Complete
G/t Prompt fills, including several complete stories and many single or incomplete storylines.
100 G/t OC Prompts
Original, Ongoing
G/t Prompt fills using my original characters.
Noal the Gorgon
Original, Ongoing
Made together with @pizza-box-raccoon
Noal is a gorgon, and has been a slave since childhood. He meets a very small girl named Ymir who can shift into a jerboa, and who encourages him to escape.
Coffin
Sanders Sides, Complete
Virgil is a vampire, captured, and used as a part of the ‘final test’ for three vampire hunters, Patton, Logan, and Roman. They learn that the hunters are wrong, and many of them evil, and together with new allies, they all try to fight against them.
Searching for Home
Original, Complete
Stories of Sowarrelm
In a world full of dragons, fairies, and selkies, six people struggle to find a place that's truly a home. Warren is running away, from a place no longer his home. Emile has been driven away, and just wants to get back home. And Jordan is trying to figure out what makes a home. They’ve found people that care for them, but will they ever really find home?
Centaur AU
Sanders Sides, Ongoing
Thomas is hired as a groom to several centaurs, owned by an extraordinarily rich family, the Authiers. He finds that they’ve been treated awfully, and tries his best to help, but he’s only one person.
Making a Magic Harp
Original, Complete
Stories of Sowarrelm
Elora, who’s been cursed blessed with wings, is trying to make a magic harp. She’s distracted by students causing problems in the library she works in, and also by a beautiful woman named Asha who seems to really like her. But then things get to be a bit more confusing.
In which Virgil has taken lessons on how to demand affection
Sanders Sides, Complete
Virgil wants affection. And has been trying hard to learn how to get it. Finally he tries, and has far more success than he ever guessed he would have.
After Virgil’s success, the others decide to try their luck too.
Can Two Wrongs Ever Make a Right?
Sanders Sides, Ongoing
Rated Mature, made together with @lessthansafe
Virgil has been stuck, unwanted, in an omega shelter for his whole life. Janus has been stuck, unwanted, as the black sheep of his alpha family his whole life.
Could they ever make things work together?
See my AO3 for most of these plus a bunch of one-shots and smaller stories!
Virgil has been stuck, unwanted, in an omega shelter for his whole life. Janus has been stuck, unwanted, as the black sheep of his alpha family his whole life.
Could they ever make things work together?
This is a Mature Fic, with occasional sex scenes. Please read over the tags in this post before reading the fic. Sex scenes will have warnings, and summaries for skippability.
Alpha Janus, Omega Virgil, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics / Omegaverse, alphas and omegas have some animal characteristics, i’m a sucker for nekos, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, fears of rape (will not happen), Janus was raised very wrong, Food and weight insecurity, Pining, Past Sexual Abuse, Virgil has unhealthy shame around his desires, Virgil has Rough Heats, Mutual Pining, Masturbation, Grinding, First Time, Mating Bites, Multiple Orgasms, Dissociation, Blow Jobs, So much plot and a little bit of porn, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol.
Roll the Poll fic 1: Janus, Virgil, and Remy in a triad. In a Hurt/Comfort fic with a Soulmates universe and the prompt ‘housing’.
Content warning for kidnapping, fear of death, mild self-injury, quite a bit of cursing, as well as societal and specific poly-phobia.
Virgil’s head nodded and he jerked it upright. He’d hoped the smell of coffee would keep him awake, but he’d been nodding off ever since midnight.
“Heya, babes,” the barista said, giving him a wry, apologetic smile.
Virgil knew immediately why he was there. “Two hours again already?”
Remy nodded, peeking at Virgil over his shades. “Why don’t you head home and get some sleep? You could certainly use it.”
Virgil sighed, his inhibitions broken down by the lack of sleep and the way his favorite barista had allowed him to nod off in the corner all night, only following protocol when necessary. Namely, that a customer had to buy something every two hours, or else be asked to leave.
“I’m having… housing difficulties…” Virgil admitted, not willing to share any more.
Remy put a hand on his hip, considering Virgil. He then glanced around the cafe, confirming that it was empty. He sat down across from Virgil.
“We may be open 24 hours, but this really isn’t a great option.”
Virgil nodded. “Yeah, I know. I can— I can just go.”
“Hold on, bitch. I’m not kicking you out. Just trying to help you find a place to sleep.”
Virgil shrugged helplessly. “I don’t have much cash for a hotel or something.”
“What about your soulmate?” Remy asked. “I’m sure they’ll be willing to put you up for a night.” He winked at Virgil. “Pretty lil emo down on his luck, I’d tap that too.”
The flirty joke pulled a half grin out of Virgil. “I haven’t met him yet,” he admitted.
Remy shrugged. “Loads of soulmates are close to each other before they meet. Scribble down the address of the cafe. See if he shows up. Here, I’ve got a pen.”
Virgil took the pen, staring at it doubtingly.
Remy stood and stretched. “I need some caffeine in me too. I’ll treat you for this one.”
Virgil’s eyes went wide and he gaped at Remy. “No, you don’t have to do that!”
Remy just waved a hand dismissively in his direction, already going behind the counter and starting to pull out cups.
Virgil’s gaze was drawn to the pen again. He didn’t really dare to ask his soulmates for help. Not writing on his skin in public. They too clearly had different handwriting. Were too clearly Two.
It was the very reason he was out here now. Slipping up and referring to plural soulmates. His roommates didn’t want someone near them with two soulmates. No one did.
He’d been stopping by this cafe for over a year now, had made friends with Remy. He didn’t want to throw that away on a chance of a bed. He’d manage. He’d be fine. Somehow.
Maybe he’d try to get back inside the apartment anyway. Just cause his roommates didn’t like it, it wasn’t like they would physically force him out, right? If he just stayed in his room. Kept the door locked. He already wore long shirts and pants. As long as his soulmates didn’t screw him over with writing on his hands or face or something.
Remy came back, setting a steaming cup in front of Virgil. A to-go cup.
“Any responses?” Remy asked.
Virgil forced a smile. “Yeah, um, I’ve gotta get on the next bus, but he’ll meet me.”
“There you go!” Remy praised. “Have a nice night, practice safe sex, tell me all about it at some reasonable hour.”
Virgil stood up, taking the cup and laughing along with Remy. He left the cafe, abandoning the warm lit environment for the empty streets.
Someone entered just as he was leaving. Virgil only got a brief glimpse of him, but he was very unique, especially wearing a hat like that.
••^*^••
Remy huffed as Janus entered. And just after Virgil left too. He usually got a bit of time to chill on an overnight shift.
“Oh, and I’m just overjoyed to see you too,” Janus said smoothly, leaning against the counter with an entirely too attractive grin.
Remy rolled his eyes. “What’s your snakey ass doing bothering me at bitch o'clock in the morning?”
“A man can get a coffee, can’t he?” Janus purred, looking perfectly innocent.
“Not you,” Remy snarked, already starting to make Janus’s favorite.
Janus just smiled.
“Why are you really here?” Remy pushed.
Janus looked at his wrist, noticeably lacking in a watch. “Oh dear, what time is it?”
Remy scowled. “No.”
Janus looked back up at him, all innocence. “No? I genuinely do not have the time.”
Remy gritted his teeth. “You know someday I will not do this for you.”
Janus batted his eyelashes.
Remy shoved his coffee at him. “You’re lucky you’re pretty, bastard. It’s 4:27 am.”
Janus smirked triumphantly. “I was just chatting with you and sipping my coffee till 5.”
“Bitch.”
Janus wiggled his gloved fingers in Remy’s direction, sauntering out of the cafe. “I’ll owe you~”
“You better pay up this time, asshole!” Remy snapped at his back.
Fucking pretty ass Janus. And fuck his own crush on the man! He’d never have been dragged into all this if he could just keep it in his pants.
••^*^••
Janus arrived at the location. Why Remus had ever decided they had to meet up here was a mystery. As were most things about the man.
But. It was within walking distance of that cafe where Remy worked, so he had an easy alias and no license plate to track. His hat kept his face out of view from any cameras he didn’t discover ahead of time and avoid. It was early enough in the morning that both night owls and early risers were likely to be in bed.
Janus waited outside the apartments, putting himself in the shadow of a large ornamental shrub. Just a few minutes later a car drove up.
“Heya, Jan!” Remus greeted, throwing open the driver side door.
Janus grimaced at his volume, snapping in hushed tones. “Would you keep it down?”
Remus rolled his eyes obnoxiously, and then fished out a folder. “I got all the juicy details for you~”
Janus accepted the folder, flicking through it rapidly just to confirm Remus hadn’t swapped it with some folder of which sex toys he preferred or some nonsense.
“I appreciate it,” Janus said. “I’ll pay you the usual—“
He cut off as there was suddenly a loud crash from inside the nearest apartment. Janus cursed. This was why he would have preferred a different meeting location!
Remus craned his neck, trying to sneak a peek through the apartment window. “Oh this is perfect! Any suspicious persons’ reports will point right to those guys.”
Janus tensed, despite Remus’s optimism, as yelling continued from in the apartment. It was too muffled for him to tell what was going on, but he didn’t care to know either.
“We should get out of here,” Janus said.
Just then, the door to the apartment opened, and someone was pushed roughly out, falling to the pavement.
“Don’t let me see your freak ass again or I Will beat the shit out of you!” A man from within the apartment yelled, slamming the door shut.
Janus winced. He did not want to be a part of some domestic dispute. He turned to walk away, even if Remus was going to be an idiot and stay to watch.
But then the crumpled man on the ground said something that stopped Janus in his tracks.
Just one word. A simple, “You?” Implying recognition.
Fuck.
Janus didn’t know the man from Adam. But he was not allowing someone to see him, in this location, at this time, knowing who he was somehow. No. He could not leave witnesses.
He turned to Remus. “Help me.”
Remus, showing off one of his brief streaks of competency, scrambled out of the car and dashed the few feet towards the man.
Janus slid into the driver’s seat just as Remus pulled the struggling man into the backseat, one hand covering his mouth. He sped out of the apartment complex, taking roads with less cameras and getting out of the town.
Fuck, what was he going to do now?!
Chapter Two
Virgil was going to die.
He’d thought he could just slip into the apartment and to his room with everyone asleep, but Roger was still up, and saw him immediately. He confronted Virgil, ruining all plans of laying low as his words quickly became yelling. Virgil tried to defend himself, that he couldn’t help how many soulmates he had, and he hadn’t even met them! But Roger didn’t care. He wanted Virgil out.
Virgil, with a confidence built only of the coffee he could still taste on his tongue, had refused to leave. He’d thought that, angry as they might get, his roommates wouldn’t actually escalate to physically pushing him out.
Oh how wrong that was.
His ribs still ached from the several hits they’d absorbed before he’d been shoved out the door. And his head was spinning and aching from the impact against the coffee table.
And also the fact that he was going to die.
That guy with the hat was doing some, some drug deal or something, who knew, and Virgil like a supreme dumbass had opened his mouth.
Tall, big, and stinky had grabbed him, an arm wrapped around both of his, pinning them to his torso, and the other hand clamped over his nose and mouth. He couldn’t scream, couldn’t get the breath to. All his kicking and wriggling hadn’t been enough before he was pulled into the car.
And now they were driving away.
He was So Dead.
The guy holding him shifted the hand over his face once the car was moving, uncovering his nose so Virgil could breathe freely. He sucked in air, tears beginning to leak from his eyes.
He was the fucking worst, unluckiest son of a bitch to ever exist. Two soulmates, homeless now, kidnapped. And they didn’t have masks on. No masks meant he could recognize them, and they wouldn’t leave him alive.
He was going to die.
He didn’t want to die!
His whole life he’d been looked down on or bullied for having two soulmates but he’d never even met them! He wanted to at least see them before he died.
Virgil’s breath came faster, catching in his congested nose and making him panic. He needed to breathe! He couldn’t breathe!
His chest heaved with sobs and his desperate attempts to get air.
“Might get loud,” the man holding him said, and then abruptly the hand over Virgil’s mouth was gone.
Virgil gasped, drinking in the air. Without the cover over his mouth his sobs rang out loud in the otherwise silent car. If he wasn’t so thoroughly miserable and about to die anyway he would’ve been embarrassed, might’ve managed to stop himself, but he just couldn’t.
“I don’t wanna— Please, don’t kill me!” He forced out between sobs.
“We’re not going to kill you,” the driver snapped.
He didn’t know if he could believe it. But even without a single assurance that it was the truth, relief flooded through Virgil.
“I didn’t see anything,” he blurted. “I-I don’t have a clue who you are. I don’t know what you were doing. I d-don’t know anything. I swear I won’t tell anyone anything!”
The driver made a frustrated sound. “Just— shut up.”
Virgil fell silent, other than his breath coming in hiccuping half-sobs.
“What is our plan, Jannie?” The man holding him asked.
The driver made a rough, growling sound. “For now, I’m getting us out of town. We’ll have to find a way to manage him without you carrying him everywhere so I can drop you off. I’ll figure out what to do from there. And I’ll need to keep the car.”
“I’ve got duct tape!” The man said, entirely too happily.
Virgil squirmed against his hold, trying to get his arms free to— to— to make a nuisance of himself at least. Of the two men, one had recognized his need to breathe, and the other had told him to shut up. He liked his living chances better with both of them than just the one.
But the man holding Virgil was far too strong for him to fight against, and soon Virgil was pressed down into a car seat, his arms pulled behind his back. He bit back another sob as his wrists were taped together, and then the tape wound around his torso and arms haphazardly.
“Check him for anything dangerous,” the driver said. “And anything he could use to contact someone.”
A chill ran down Virgil’s spine. He was gonna die anyway, wasn’t he?
••^*^••
Janus’s mind had been nothing but a steady stream of ‘Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck’ ever since he’d heard the crash in that apartment.
Now he had a man tied up in the car, terrified for his life, and no idea what to do with him.
Now that he had the folder, Janus’s plans had been to buckle down and work on the contents. It would take him days, and that was if he managed to be fast enough. He didn’t have Time for a problem like this!
And even if he Had time, that still left the question of what was he going to do?? He couldn’t let him go, that was obvious. He definitely wasn’t going to kill him. The only other option seemed to be keeping him, but that wasn’t at all viable long term.
At least for the moment though, Janus couldn’t see any other options.
Remus had flipped up the man’s hood over his eyes, so he couldn’t look out and around at where they were as they approached a place where Janus could drop Remus off. He also properly buckled him in before he got out, a thing he ought to have done ages ago. Since then, the man had been quiet.
Janus drove, looping around and doubling back multiple times on his way to his house. The less the man knew about where they were and how to get back, the better.
Janus sighed heavily as he parked. His gut was already twisted in knots, his conscience screaming with how much he’d already done to this random person. And here he was about to scare him more.
He pulled out the gun he knew Remus had hidden in the car, pointing it at the man, held low enough that he could see it under the hood.
The man stiffened, but Janus didn’t give him time to beg for his life again. He didn’t think he’d manage to hold onto him at all if he did. He was cursed with a bleeding heart and if this man begged again he might just let him go and fuck all the consequences.
“You’re going to stay quiet.” Janus commanded. “You’re going to come with me into the building, and you’re going to do everything I say.”
The man nodded rapidly, his breathing getting fast and shallow.
“I don’t want to bother keeping this gun pointed at you the whole time, but be assured I will always have it on hand.”
The man nodded again.
Janus tucked the gun into his waistband, wishing he’d had the forethought to bring a holster. Then he got out of the car. When he opened the back door, the man stayed silent, as he’d been told to. Janus undid the buckle and guided him into the house.
He breathed slightly easier once he was inside the house with the door locked.
Now what?
He couldn’t just start in on work with curious eyes wandering around.
It was nearly seven now. Maybe he’d make breakfast.
He knew he was just continuing to push the real problem down the road, but he hadn’t come up with any answers.
Janus left the man standing in the dining room and started looking through his fridge. He wanted something that would take a bit of time. Push that problem just a bit further before he reached a point where he had to deal with it.
He finally pulled out some vegetables and started chopping them. He took his time slowly making complex omelets, only looking towards his captive when the man maneuvered his way to the floor to sit.
Unfortunately, even after the long cooking, Janus didn’t have any better ideas. This was so far out of the realm of what he expected he’d never planned for it, never considered it before.
He carried the plates into the dining room and set them at the table. He helped pull the man up so he could sit in a proper chair. Then he flipped back his hood.
It was the first real look he’d gotten at the man’s face. Janus swallowed. His… very pretty face. If he wasn’t careful this would be Remy all over again, only worse because he’d already drug this man so deep into his mess he couldn’t see a way to get him out again.
Janus’s second reaction was pity. The man was blinking in the brighter light, out from under the shade of his hood, and his face was tearstained and red, streaked with black eyeshadow. Janus also noticed a large bump near the back of his head.
He gently probed it, concerned as the man winced, trying to duck away from his hand. This was recent. Remus hadn’t knocked him around any. It must have been in the commotion in the apartment.
Janus went back to the kitchen. He got a cloth and dampened it, then also got an ice pack.
“If I take off the tape, you will not attempt to attack me or run away,” Janus said. He’d found that in many cases, phrasing questions as statements and statements as questions tended to throw off the other person, and he got what he wanted more easily.
The man nodded silently. Janus remembered that he’d told him to be quiet earlier. He moved behind the man, cutting at the tape with scissors. “You’re welcome to speak, so long as you aren’t loud.”
“Thanks,” the man muttered.
“Are you in pain?” Janus asked, considering whether this was a simple ice and ibuprofen type of situation, or whether he would need to attempt further first aid.
The man shrugged, picking up the cloth and cleaning his face, then holding the ice pack to the bump on his head.
Janus rolled his eyes at the non-response. “Would you object to taking painkillers?”
That prompted a quiet, “No.”
Janus retrieved the bottle, opening it in plain view so it could be seen he wasn’t switching the pills with anything. He got two cups of water, and then sat down to eat his own, rather cool by now, breakfast.
“What’s gonna happen now?” The man asked, looking up at Janus.
His gaze was piercing, possibly even more so because he didn’t intend it to be. Janus feigned nonchalance.
“I’m not telling you. You’ll find out as it happens.”
He could see a faint shudder run through the man. He didn’t have a better answer though, for him or for himself.
••^*^••
Remy had been thinking about Virgil ever since he left. He hoped it had gone well, getting picked up by his soulmate.
It drew his mind to his own soulmates. At a young age they’d come to realize how dangerous it was to be three, and they tried to spare each other the danger.
He didn’t know either of their names. Didn’t know where they lived. What they did for work. Nothing. He hadn’t even contacted them in several weeks.
He wanted to.
The desire built up over the remainder of his shift, and when he got home Remy caved to it.
He scrawled in sharpie, high up on his thigh where it wouldn’t be easily noticed regardless of what he chose to wear, Heya. How’s it going?
Chapter Three
Virgil noticed the note on his thigh when he used the bathroom. It gave him an idea. A brief flutter of hope.
His phone might have been taken from him, but if he could manage to contact his soulmates, maybe he could get help.
He exited the bathroom, and immediately his captor’s gaze was on him, watching as Virgil returned to the couch. He didn’t seem to be unkind. He’d given Virgil food, and painkillers, and hadn’t hurt him. Was even letting him walk around this house without being tied up.
And it was a house. Not like an abandoned warehouse or a back alley or any of the other scary locations Virgil had expected to end up in. He might… not die?
His captor was still incredibly intimidating though, and was keeping a close eye on Virgil. He didn’t know where to find a pen or a marker, and even if he did, he was sure he’d be discovered with whatever he wrote on his skin.
But if he did something temporary maybe?
Virgil tentatively laid down on the couch. His captor watched him do it, but then went back to reading through some paperwork of some kind. Virgil rolled over, facing the back of the couch.
It made his skin crawl to have his back to the man, but he had a purpose for it. It gave him just a bit of cover, just enough hopefully.
Virgil pushed his sleeve up. He was going to dare to do this on his arm. He knew his soulmates mostly wore clothes that covered skin, but if any part of them would catch their attention, forearm was a safe bet.
Taking his thumbnail, Virgil pressed hard into his skin, dragging the nail to make a white line in his skin. The white quickly became an irritated red, but he knew from experience that the red would be gone in just a few minutes. He slowly made more lines on his skin, trying to keep his movements small so he wouldn’t be noticed.
Help
••^*^••
Remy stared at the faint red lines on his forearm as they appeared. He’d noticed around the time the H was completed, while he was changing into pajamas to sleep the day away. His curiosity quickly turned to concern as the word finished.
He grabbed a pen, scribbling onto his wrist.
How?
As he watched, waiting, the Help faded on his arm. Definitely not red pen. That… that definitely seemed worse.
In response, he got a slow and scratchy-looking number. A phone number.
Well. Remy could definitely call.
The phone rung multiple times, eventually going to voicemail, unanswered.
“Hey, this is Virgil. I missed you somehow, but just send a text or leave a message and I’ll try and get back to you later.”
Remy frowned, confused and more than a little unbelieving. Virgil?? What did Virgil have to do with this?? With one of his soulmates? But it was definitely his voice.
Virgil was supposed to be on a bus right about now, maybe even picked up already by his own soulmate. Maybe Virgil’s soulmate was nearby to Remy’s soulmate? This was all just so weird and confusing.
Remy next tried texting.
Hey, everything alright?
The response he got back alarmed him even more, though it didn’t remove any of his confusion.
Hello. He’s at the hospital. Unconscious, but stable. He was in a car accident. I’m informing his family and work through his contacts, and then turning the phone off. He won’t be able to come in for a few days.
Remy stared at the text for a long few minutes. So Virgil didn’t have his own phone. He’d never talk like that. And whoever did seemed to think that Remy was someone from his job? And he was in the hospital?!!
Remy wrote on his wrist, just under the how?
???
He didn’t have any better ideas of what to write.
There was no response. Not for a while.
Then finally.
Help
Please
Remy started looking online to see if there were any way to track someone based on just a phone number.
••^*^••
Janus didn’t know why he hadn’t considered that of course the man had a job. They’d both startled when the phone rang, and the man had cringed into the couch, rapidly throwing out any number of apologies for being called by his boss, as if Janus was going to fault him for that.
Janus had figured out something to send back, and sent it to the top few contacts on the phone just in case before turning it completely off.
What was he supposed to do now?
Surely people would begin looking for the man sooner than later. And Janus could manage to whisk him into hiding, but that would be a lot of work. And… he wasn’t sure he could handle it, emotionally. The longer this went on, the worse he felt.
He wasn’t cut out to be a kidnapper. Certainly not a kidnapper of a random handsome stranger. If he’d hated the man, perhaps he would be managing this better.
An idea was beginning to form though. An idiotic idea. A stupid, horrible, terrible, dangerous idea.
If he could get the man on his side, he wouldn’t need to hold him captive. On the other hand, if the man was absolutely against rights for people with multiple soulmates, well, it would be easier for Janus to hate him.
On the dangerous side, if the man was smart and had an ounce of self-preservation, he’d go along with everything Janus said, at least verbally, and then go straight to the police as soon as he was released.
The real question was if the danger of that outweighed the twisting in his gut every time he scared the man. Janus was way too fucking soft for this. He should’ve kept Remus here.
Janus sighed. He was an over-emotional fool.
••^*^••
Virgil was trying hard to stay calm. It wasn’t working.
His soulmate had actually called. Really and truly. And then his captor had sent some kind of message in response and had turned his phone off. Virgil hoped he’d convinced him that it was just work calling cause he was late. But he hoped more that his soulmate could actually do something with the little information.
Only one soulmate had responded to his desperate messages, but with such a short time on his skin, he wasn’t surprised that the other hadn’t noticed.
His arm tingled unpleasantly, the skin irritated and tender.
Suddenly, his captor let out a sigh. Virgil tensed as the man closed his folder and turned his attention entirely towards Virgil.
Virgil carefully sat up.
“I imagine you are aware that it is possible to have more than one soulmate,” his captor said.
A tremor ran through Virgil. Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, he wasn’t kidnapped randomly cause he witnessed the deal. He was kidnapped for having two soulmates, this was So Much Worse! And he’d gone and asked one of his soulmates for help!! They’d be pulled into this!
His captor’s lips pressed together. He continued speaking. “Having multiple soulmates is estimated to occur in 0.67% of people. Though many of those hide this fact, so the percentage may well be inaccurate.”
Virgil hesitantly nodded. He had to try and stay on this man’s good side.
“The reason it’s often a hidden fact is that society frowns heavily on those with multiple soulmates,” his captor said, emotion flickering over his face. An emotion Virgil never expected. Something like… grief?
“Many people don’t know until they run into it that there are laws restricting actions by those with multiple soulmates, particularly if it can be proven that the individual has multiple.”
Virgil actually didn’t know that. He’d heard rumors, but had always just tried to lay low himself.
“Because of societal standards, it’s incredibly hard to change these laws… through normal avenues.”
Virgil swallowed. This sounded an awful lot like telling him about illegal things. He’d be an accomplice. Maybe. He wasn’t entirely sure how that worked. But regardless, he’d never be allowed to live once he heard about illegal plans.
He couldn’t deny his curiosity, but more than that he was scared. He covered his ears with his hands.
“I-I don’t know why you’re telling me this!” Virgil blurted. “Look, good for you trying to help us, but don’t tell me illegal shit! The more you tell me the more I can tell police, and I’m not an idiot, I know you can’t just let that go. I don’t wanna end up dead, stop telling me things that’ll make me end up dead!”
He finally managed to shut himself up. He’d never intended to say all that. He glanced up at his captor’s face, expecting a scowl, or even the gun pointed at him again. But instead there was a sort of pleased shock.
“Us?”
Virgil’s face drained of blood. “N-no, I didn’t mean that. I meant to say them. Them.”
The man grinned. “You definitely said us.”
“I didn’t!” Virgil protested. “Or I didn’t mean to!”
“You have multiple soulmates,” the man said, his grin widening.
“I do not!” Virgil yelled, accidentally breaking the ‘be quiet’ rule. “I don’t! I-I-I’m normal! I’m not a—“ his voice cracked, and he swiped angrily at his eyes, which were leaking again.
The man’s expression softened. “It’s alright,” he said gently.
“It’s not!” Virgil argued. Why he was being an idiot and getting angry and upset and arguing when the man across from him had a gun he had no idea. But he couldn’t seem to help it. Feelings were rushing up from his chest, pouring out his throat. “It’s not ok! It’s never been ok! People always hate you for it and I can’t… I haven’t even met them!”
He was crying. He swiped his sleeves over his face.
“Why does everyone hate me for it? I didn’t even get to meet them. Everyone else gets to find their soulmate! Everyone else gets a happy ever after! Why do they fucking hate me so bad!?”
At some point the other man had moved from his chair across from Virgil to sitting on the couch next to him. He took the hand Virgil was tugging at his hair with, loosening his grip on the strands.
“I have multiple too,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, hard to hear over the harsh breaths stuttering out of Virgil’s mouth.
“I didn’t even get to meet them,” Virgil repeated, the words coming out in a whimper.
“You should’ve gotten to,” the man said.
The words seemed to ring in Virgil’s mind, not quite sinking in, but refusing to leave.
“You deserve to meet your soulmates,” the man said firmly. “You deserve to get to love them. To be near them. Just as much as anyone else.”
Virgil stared at him, the validation cracking a dam he’d long held within him, emotion flooding out and overwhelming his already strained system. He lurched forward, clinging for comfort to a source he never would’ve considered.
The man let him cling, even wrapped his own arms around Virgil, gently shushing him and telling him it would all be ok.
Chapter Four
Janus wasn’t sure how this had happened. But he’d held the man while he cried, and now he had another damp cloth, wiping his face.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m like this. I guess I just haven’t slept and…” the man trailed off, hugging one of Janus’s throw pillows to his stomach.
“Would you like me to take you home?” Janus asked. He hadn’t thought it through. But he didn’t regret it either. Regardless of what he chose to do next, this man didn’t deserve to be held captive and scared.
The man’s face cycled from surprise back to teary. “I don’t have one anymore.”
Janus pressed his lips together. Well, he had seen the man forcefully kicked out.
“You’re welcome to stay if you like. As a guest. I won’t force you. Or if there’s somewhere you’d like me to take you?”
The man’s face scrunched up, clearly caught between gratitude and suspicion. “Why would you do that?”
Janus gave him a small smile and a shrug. “You’re like me. If I’m going to fight for us, how could I then hurt one of us?”
“But—but I still saw your weird deal. A-and I can recognize you. I could tell the cops and— you definitely shouldn’t just let me go.”
Janus’s smile became wry. “I’ll have to take the chance that you won’t.”
The man just looked disbelieving.
Janus set down his cloth. “I won’t ask that we start over. I’ve already done more than I expect to be forgiven for. But perhaps we could try introductions? My name is Janus.”
Despite his disbelief, after a moment the man held out a hand. “Virgil.”
Janus shook it gently. “I’m glad to make your acquaintance, Virgil. Would you honor me by being my guest? If you haven’t slept, there’s a bed you’re welcome to use.”
Virgil rubbed his eyes with his sleeves. “It’s not fair to kidnap someone and then be all nice. Giving off real mixed signals.”
Janus couldn’t help chuckling. “I should not have kidnapped you. I’m truly sorry.”
Virgil shrugged. “You had to. Someone saw you doing illegal shit. This is the weird part.”
Janus kept chuckling, something traitorous in his chest doing little flips. “I’m well aware.”
Virgil blinked, slowly, and Janus could see as tiredness began beating his inhibitions.
“I think… yeah. I might take you up on the bed. Would you…” The spark of fear returned to his eyes for a moment. “Would you put the gun somewhere? Out of reach.”
Janus nodded solemnly. At some point, he would explain to Virgil that this particular gun was incapable of shooting, but this didn’t seem like the time.
Janus stood, offering a hand to help Virgil up. Virgil didn’t take his hand, but did follow as Janus directed him to the bedroom. Janus left him alone and went back to work, but he was unable to get him out of his mind.
••^*^••
Virgil curled up on the bed, feeling awkward about laying in someone else’s bedroom. The exhaustion was tugging at him far more than the awkwardness, however, and he was slowly relaxing.
His mind was still full of swirling emotions, but fear had retreated to one of the smallest. The man- Janus, was definitely still doing illegal shit, but he was trying to help people with multiple soulmates. He may have kidnapped Virgil, but looking back, about the worst thing he actually did to him was to tie him up with tape and threaten him with a gun.
Virgil frowned. Those were definitely bad things. So why was his brain trying to say they paled in comparison to what he’d said? Actions were definitely more telling than words.
But those words.
You deserve to meet your soulmates.
You deserve to get to love them. To be near them.
They’d pierced somewhere deep within Virgil, letting light and air in, allowing him to want. And now he couldn’t stop himself from wanting.
He felt he might owe Janus something deeper and more important than the kidnapping.
And his mental image of Janus had shifted from the terrifying stranger in an odd hat, and now was all warm chest and soft words. And acceptance.
They were alike. They both had multiple soulmates. Virgil had never met anyone else with multiple soulmates, at least not knowingly. Having his deepest secret not only known, but shared. It screwed up his self-protective instincts, already putting Janus as part of Us, when he should undeniably be a Them.
Virgil’s brain flitted over the idea of helping Janus, and he tried desperately to cut off that possibility entirely. He was not about to get himself into criminal business just because a handsome man was just like him and trying to help and… oh fuck he was genuinely considering it.
Virgil buried his face in the nearest pillow. This was idiotic. This was death wish levels of stupid. He should not be considering this!! He’d just been kidnapped by the man for fuck’s sake!
••^*^••
It had been nearly an hour of Remy trying to figure out how to use a phone number to track a person. He’d stumbled across more information about Virgil than the anxious man would ever be comfortable knowing could be found on the internet, but no way of tracking where his phone was at the moment.
And still the minutes kept trickling by.
There were no new messages. Remy kept his sleeve rolled up, and checked it every few minutes just in case, but nothing.
He was getting more and more concerned, both for his unknown soulmate, and for Virgil.
He had one more option, either to help him, or to convince him that everything would be fine. Janus.
Janus owed him anyway.
And if he was in the cafe wanting an alibi the night before, he was almost sure to be holed up in his house ignoring all attempts to contact him. So Remy would have to go to him.
That decided, Remy grabbed one of his emergency cold coffees from the fridge and got into his car.
Janus’s house was maybe 20 minutes away. Remy kept his sleeve pulled high, glancing away from the road on occasion in case of further messages.
He unlocks Janus’s door without bothering to knock first.
“Jay! Gotta problem here.”
Janus comes quickly around the corner, concern and alarm plain on his face. “What happened? Are you alright?”
Remy gestures to his arm. “I am, but apparently my soulmate isn’t, and it’s got some weird crazy thing to do with my friend Virgil, and you’d better have some cool illegal way to track a bitch, cause I am not used to being a worrier and I hate it!”
Janus blinked several times at the barrage of words. Remy cursed at his slow uptake. “Come on, Jay! Open your little bag of tricks and help me out here.”
Remy groaned loudly. “Yes. I’ve told you about him before. And apparently I’ve got a soulmate near him, cause I was sent his number and a message for help.”
Janus takes his hand, frowning down at his arm, bare of everything other than what he’d written himself.
There’s the sound of a door from further in the house, and Remy has only a moment to wonder who Janus has over when a very familiar figure comes around the corner.
“Remy?” Virgil asks, and then when he sees him, “Remy!”
Virgil unexpectedly runs forward and grips Remy around the waist. They hadn’t really… hugged before. So it’s strange, but Remy’s concern being suddenly relieved at seeing Virgil unhurt outweighs that. He wraps a protective arm around Virgil.
“Oh hell, nah. There’s some major explaining to do.” Seeing Janus looking guilty, Remy jabs a finger at him, sloshing the remainder of his drink inside the cup. “You. Talk. Now.”
Janus abruptly looks even more guilty.
Virgil suddenly gasped, grabbing at Remy’s arm and staring. Before Remy can explain about his soulmate’s messages, Virgil is shoving his own sleeve up, holding it close to compare.
Remy stared with wide eyes. It was Virgil. Virgil was his soulmate. One of them, anyway.
“Oh, you lied to me,” he breathed out, not genuinely upset. He understood lying about multiple soulmates. He’d done the same himself many times.
Suddenly, several things clicked together in his head, and he rounded on Janus. “What the hell did you do?!”
Janus raised both hands. “There’s a whole story to it, Rem—“
Remy stepped forward, backing Janus against a wall, using his extra few inches to loom over him. “Better start telling then.”
“I’m fine… now,” Virgil said, sounding almost defensive of Janus.
Remy’s eyebrows shot up. There was some Tea here. And he was Going to be told All of it.
After a full explanation, Remy stood above Janus, his arms crossed. Janus looked supremely guilty, as he Was.
Remy grabbed his arm, shoving the sleeve up. As he now expected, his scrawl was on Janus’s wrist as well.
“I told you we should check if we were soulmates!” He exclaimed.
Janus just stared with wide eyes, awe taking over his expression. He reached out softly to Virgil, comparing his arm to his as well.
Virgil was just looking back and forth between the two of them with shock and wonder.
“Alright babes,” Remy said authoritatively. “This is how it’s gonna go. You,” he pointed at Janus. “Are going to pull out your first aid kit and we’ll check Virgil over for any hurt he got from that asshole he used to call a roommate. Then you’re going to give us your bedroom for a nap, and treat us both to a good lunch when we wake up from a nap. After that, and only after, will we start to consider forgiving you.”
Janus grimaced, but to his credit, he knew when it wasn’t the time to argue.
“You,” he turned on Virgil. “Are going to show us everywhere that hurts. Once I’m convinced that you’re properly ok, then it’s nap time. I’ll let you make your own decisions on Janus after. As far as I’m concerned, he’s sleeping on the couch tonight and owes me about a hundred coffees.”
Janus was starting to look genuinely dejected, and Remy grabbed his collar, pulling him in for a deep kiss.
“Tonight we talk about being soulmates,” he said more gently. “And how we want to play that.”
Virgil grabbed Remy’s hand in one of his, and Janus’s with the other. His eyes were shining. He didn’t say anything, but he squeezed both their hands tightly.
Well! Discovering two of his favorite people were his soulmates. Not a bad day.
Chapter Five
~one month later~
Virgil read the paper carefully, studying each word at a time. He highlighted a line before passing it to Janus.
“This bit reads oddly.”
Janus looked at it, and his nose wrinkled. “That bit was original.”
Virgil scrunched his face up. “That’s been in the law?”
Janus shrugged, the look of disgust on his face apparent. “There’s a reason I’m changing it.”
Now that he was a full part of Janus’s operation, Virgil had been told everything. Janus was slowly taking laws and regulations, tweaking them subtly, and getting a man on the inside to swap them with the originals. That man, Patton, was married to Remus’s brother, and they had another partner named Logan who was not yet let in on illegal activity.
Change was slow. Incremental. It had to be. It couldn’t be noticed, or everything would be ruined.
But a law here tweaked to be more lenient, a regulation loosened there, and society gradually became less hostile to people with multiple soulmates. Slowly.
Virgil reached over, wrapping his fingers over Janus’s. Janus smiled at him softly, and raised his hand to his lips. Virgil watched as a small flower bloomed to existence on his knuckle, drawn by Remy.
He flushed slightly. He still wasn’t ready for the full kisses that Janus and Remy often shared, but he was certain that smaller affections like this filled his heart just as full.
Janus released his hand, going back to his work. Virgil took the paper back, continuing his own proofreading of the draft.
••^*^••
Remy often found himself drawing on his skin now. Drawings couldn’t be so easily pointed to different hands, and thus were safe to revel in. Flowers over his knuckles, hearts over his hands, larger more detailed designs covering his arms and legs.
His night shifts at the cafe were never quite so dull anymore, knowing he could send a bit of art to one of his loves. And many times, one of them would show up. With Virgil, it was often for coffee and long talks, like they had before but deeper, more tender. Janus still wanted an alibi half the time he stopped by, but now there were visits where he’d come to make out if the cafe was empty.
When his shift was over he’d head back home. Virgil was coming over in the morning. He often split his time between Remy and Janus’s houses, almost like they had a custody agreement over him.
It was difficult for Remy sometimes, adjusting to a partner who wanted to take things real slow. But Virgil’s softness and cute grumpiness was uniquely special to him, and he looked forward to the day he’d get to kiss him silly.
Despite the rough time that brought them to realize they were soulmates, none of them truly regretted it, though Janus still apologized if one of them brought up the kidnapping.
••^*^••
Janus had never felt so fulfilled.
He’d always believed strongly in the cause, knowing he was a member of the minority he fought for. But it was different somehow, having his soulmates with him.
Remy and Virgil were so similar and yet so different. Both would snark and snipe, especially as Virgil got more comfortable around him. But Virgil had a softness to him where Remy had passion. Remy had initiative where Virgil had caution. Virgil had gentleness where Remy had strength. Both so unique. Both so precious. Both somehow his. And he theirs.
He was reaping the very reward he wished to give to everyone with multiple soulmates. And it was sweet.
Janus subtly shifted position, careful not to wake either of his partners. They’d spent a late night and were now napping, leaving him the most lucky with getting to experience them laying on either side of him.
They’d started with ‘trapping’ him, each laying over one of his arms to prevent him from working, but it had quickly shifted into soft cuddles as they fell asleep. And despite his earlier protests, he didn’t truly mind in the slightest.
He wanted to buy a larger house, or at least a larger bed, as this one only barely contained them if none of them tried to roll over. He didn’t make much money, certainly not legally. So it was a rather futile dream, about as futile as his dream to one day marry them. But a man could dream.
Tagging @snowdice Since I used your Roll the Dice game to start this fic! 🥰
Warning: this is a ghost story, which means past major character death. Also warning for major homophobia by an unnamed side character.
Janus sat down next to the gravestone, careful to have the open gate to his back. He could scramble up and escape the graveyard quickly if he needed.
It usually took a bit of time, but perhaps because he was purposely watching today, in only a few minutes he saw wisps of ether floating between the gravestones. Just little bits of gray, faint against the orange sky.
The gray darkened, becoming blueish. A heavy melancholy descended on Janus.
Janus rubbed his eyes. Five times now, and he hadn’t ever managed to talk to the ghost, but the last two times as he could just start to see it tears would start pricking at his eyes and he would feel far too heavy.
“Hello?” Janus called softly.
The mist swirled. Perhaps the ghost had turned to look at him.
“Do you know me?” came the faintest of whispers.
Janus nodded, though he really didn’t have a clue who the ghost had been. “I’m here to bring you out of here. Come with me, I’ll help you.”
It had been the wrong move. The mist dissipated, leaving dew on the gravestones and a quiet sobbing sound.
Janus sighed in frustration, grabbing up his bag and stalking out of the graveyard.
••^*^••
This was the last time. If he couldn’t get through to the ghost he’d have to move on. According to his source the ghost hadn’t caused any harm, just scared people, so it would be fine to leave.
Still, Janus’s heart tugged at him. A ghost like this was kept on earth by some kind of pain. He couldn’t just leave the ghost to suffer. But he was needed. Other ghosts were hurting people, it would be far more help to everyone in general if he moved on and dealt with one of them instead.
He should give this case to someone else. It should be fine to give to a newbie, they had more time to spend and this ghost probably wouldn’t hurt them. If it did, they weren’t cut out for this job anyway.
He looked through his notebook, at the list of other hunters, hoping one would be in the area.
There.
Storm. Smart to give an alias, probably dumb to give one so obvious. Janus supposed there could be a reason for it, but he didn’t have the time or energy to care. He called the number written beside the name.
No answer.
“Hey, it’s an old college friend, I found your number in the yearbook,” Janus recorded for a voicemail, using the standard code. “I have a package to pick up in the area, but I’m out of town, and I hoped you might get it for me. Call me back if you can, I’ll call up some other friends if not.”
••^*^••
Virgil hadn’t answered when the phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number, so they didn’t get to talk to him. He had listened to the voicemail, and then immediately regretted not picking up the phone when it rang. He called back right away.
The older hunter had given him, Him, a job. His first, in fact. He’d joined the ghost hunters a few months ago, but no one had really given him anything to do. He’d been terrified that he’d screwed something up, like maybe he was supposed to ask them for jobs, not the other way around. But now he had one!
There was a ghost in the next town over. It was haunting a church graveyard, made people cry, and was shy. “You shouldn’t have to do anything too difficult,” the hunter had said. “Just get it to talk to you, find out why it sticks around, and help it pass on.”
Of course, Virgil had accepted; promised that he was the right man for the job, and he’d get it done.
But now, still giddy with excitement half an hour after the call, he had to figure out how he was supposed to actually do it.
It was almost midnight, he could probably make it out to the graveyard and try to find the ghost. The other hunter had seen the ghost earlier in the night, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t still be there.
••^*^••
Before he knew ghosts were definitely real, Virgil had liked graveyards. They were quiet, an air of heavy but soft sadness permeating them. They were full of remembrances, mingling sweet with the bitter of death.
Now that each headstone could represent a ghost, still trapped on earth by something, he understood why people were scared of them.
It would be one thing if there was a ghost that stayed around to protect her baby daughter, maybe a mother who died in childbirth, but cared so much about her baby to stay in the hazy not-life. Or if there were star-crossed lovers, died tragically and staying together as ghosts, scared to enter the afterlife and the chance of being separated.
But most ghosts stuck around out of a need for revenge. People got murdered horrifically every day, and some would rather haunt their murderer than move forward.
Virgil hoped that this ghost he was looking for was one of the former. If it was the latter, the other ghost hunter wouldn’t have said it should be no trouble, right?
He sat down in the middle of the graveyard, careful to sit between the graves, not on top of one.
And he waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Eventually he checked the time. It was past 2 am now. He had college classes tomorrow–today at 10 am. He should get some sleep at some point.
“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he whispered to the ghost. “Promise.”
••^*^••
This time Virgil brought a sleeping bag and snacks. He arrived at the churchyard around dusk. If midnight was the best time to see a ghost, dusk was second-best, and easier. He set up a nice little spot to camp out in for a few hours near the middle of the graveyard.
“Hello? I came here to meet you. You don’t have to come out if you don’t want to, but I’m here if you do.”
There was no answer, so Virgil laid back and pulled out his phone.
He was fully engrossed in scrolling social media and didn’t notice the gathering wisps of smoke.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when the ghost whispered. “People have been coming here.”
Virgil’s heart raced, and he intentionally took in a deep, slow breath before answering. He didn’t want to scare away the ghost.
“We’ve been looking for you.”
He couldn’t see much of the ghost, just a foggy patch a few gravestones away. There was no semblance of a mouth when the ghost whispered again. “Do you know me?”
Virgil shook his head. “No.”
A wave of disappointment so strong it made tears rise in his eyes washed over him. This had to be the ghost’s doing, and it probably was also what the ghost was feeling. Virgil spoke again, too fast, desperate to get the words across before the ghost left.
“But I’d like to know you!”
The ghost made a strange sound, or perhaps it was wind, as the fog was blown away.
Virgil didn’t see any other hints of the ghost that night. Or the night after. Or the night after that.
••^*^••
He should find something more about the ghost. If he researched everyone who was buried in that cemetery, he might find something. If he could just call the ghost by name, perhaps it would convince it to stay long enough to talk.
Virgil walked through the entire graveyard, writing down all the names from the headstones. There were 483, with 67 of them being so eroded by time and weather he couldn’t reliably guess at what the name was.
It was a start.
Over the next three weeks, he researched every single name. Old newspapers, extensive googling, even a book or two written by town residents, he did everything he could to learn. He went back to the graveyard every night, calling names, but with no luck.
The closer he got to the end of the list, the less he believed that he’d get anywhere with it.
Finally, he’d reached the last name.
Nothing.
He tried calling again the names of the people who’d had mysterious or traumatic deaths. Still nothing.
He’d seen wisps a few times, but he’d never been as close as he was that second night.
“I’m trying.” He said, to the air, not sure the ghost was even listening. “I’m trying to figure out who you are. I want to get to know you. I want to help you.”
No response.
Virgil unrolled his sleeping bag. This time he was staying here overnight.
••^*^••
“Hey, hey buddy, what’re you doing sleeping out here?” A loud voice accompanied by a hand shaking Virgil’s shoulder woke him up.
“Wha-? Oh, sorry. I probably should’ve checked with the church before sleeping here.”
The man who woke him was older, with a large white beard and concern in his eyes. “Did you get kicked out of your house or something? The back door is unlocked at night, we let people sleep on the pews if they’re that hard up.”
“Oh, no, I um… I was hoping to see the ghost…” Virgil only had to fake a part of the embarrassment. Normal people didn’t believe in ghosts. He was hoping to come across as someone a little too into the supernatural, a little weird, but harmless.
The old man though sighed heavily. “Look, he’s just sad and stuck here, leave him alone. He doesn’t bother anyone, wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“You know him?!” Virgil exclaimed.
“Get your stuff up. I’ll tell you the story if you promise I won’t find you out here anymore.”
Virgil could definitely be more subtle about visiting the graveyard, especially if he didn’t fall asleep. “Promise.”
The man led him out of the graveyard, and Virgil saw that he had a lawnmower and other yard care items.
“Rumor is, there was a kid way back when, fell in love with the pastor’s kid. The paster didn’t like it, and locked him in the graveyard. Somehow, he couldn’t get out, and wasted away inside. He’s buried under the tree in the back, and they say his ghost still can’t figure out how to get out of the churchyard. I’ve seen him, a few times, but he just wanders around, doesn’t mess with anything, and he only appears every few months.”
“Do you know what the ghost’s name was?” Virgil asked.
The man shook his head. “Nah, it was way back. Now go on and go home. I’m sure you have better things to do than hang out in an old church.”
Virgil walked far enough away the man couldn’t see him anymore, and then doubled back to his car. He had a story at least, maybe he could find out more.
••^*^••
The best he could find was an obituary. But it held a name.
Patton Sanders, after committing heresy, passed away in the churchyard last Tuesday. He will be missed by his great aunt, Emilia Levine, as he joins his parents today and is buried under the tulip poplar beside their graves.
Virgil couldn’t be positive that it was the correct person, but dying in the churchyard and being buried under the tree both matched. It was a better lead than he’d had yet.
Other than the obituary though, there weren't any news stories about Patton Sanders, not even a birth announcement. Virgil did learn that Patton’s parents either died or disappeared when he was young, leaving Patton to be raised by his great aunt, who had lived in town. She also passed away, five years after Patton did, though she died at the age of 89. Come to think of it, Virgil hadn’t seen anywhere the age Patton had been when he died.
Was this enough? When the ghost asked again, could Virgil say he knew him? He knew a little. But maybe then the ghost would talk to him, and he’d learn more, and he would certainly know him then. That is, if the ghost was, in fact, the ghost of Patton Sanders.
••^*^••
Virgil sat under the tree where Patton had been buried, wearing dark clothing so he wouldn’t be spotted by any people this time around.
“Hello? Patton? Are you here?”
Fog filled up the graveyard faster than it ever had yet, practically confirming that the ghost was Patton. A thick mist shape approached Virgil, and as it did he broke out in a cold sweat. The air grew heavy and almost thick in his lungs.
“You know me?” The ghost asked, his voice deeper and rougher than before.
It looked as if someone poured water over the figure, and washed away all the mist, leaving behind a silvery outline of a teenager, his eyes filled with tears. He stepped forward, falling into Virgil’s arms, clinging to him tightly.
If he hadn’t looked so very sad, Virgil might have been scared by the ghost launching himself at him. But Patton just clung to him, his cold form remarkably physical, despite being difficult to see clearly. Virgil hugged him back.
“I thought everyone had forgotten me,” Patton said tearfully. “Even Roman didn’t come back to visit.”
Virgil didn’t know quite what to say. “I’m here now,” he finally said. He wasn’t anyone important to Patton, but it still seemed to comfort him.
Patton’s cold, ghostly body trembled in Virgil’s arms.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Virgil asked.
“Will you still remember me?” Patton asked. “Promise you won’t leave me alone again.”
“I promise.” Virgil said immediately, confidently. “No matter what happened, I’ll still come back and remember you.”
Patton relaxed against him, seeming to gain weight. He felt more solid and heavy, maybe even a little less cold.
“I was fifteen.”
A pang struck Virgil’s heart. Only fifteen. He’d been so very young.
“I lived with aunt Emilia, and we would go to church a lot. I met Roman here. He was mostly fixing things up, or doing the yard work, and he would always do the best he could, and make things perfect and pretty. A-and he was really pretty too.”
Virgil couldn’t see it quite, on Patton’s ghostly face, but he imagined that if Patton were capable of it he’d be blushing.
“I liked Roman, and helped him out a lot with his chores. His dad was always hard on him. We were friends for a long time, and then… one day, he was feeling down, and I just— just gave him a kiss on his forehead.”
Patton was certainly blushing now.
“And Roman looked up at me, all surprised, but he was happy too, he didn’t think I was weird for kissing him, and I think I’ll remember that look on his face forever.
“We started kissing more after that, in secret, of course, and we… I’m pretty sure we fell in love. Or I did, anyway. But one day his dad saw us…”
Patton chilled at least ten degrees, and Virgil tried not to start shivering.
“He told me I was… he said I belonged in the churchyard, and I could stay there myself or he’d shoot me and bury me there.”
Tears, partly his own, but partially not, slipped down Virgil’s face.
“I thought, if I stayed in here, someone might bring me things. Food, or blankets, or new clothes… but no one ever did. I saw Roman once, from a distance, cause his dad kept him far away mostly, and I called to him, but he wouldn’t turn around. Eventually, everyone forgot me…
“I died on a Sunday, but they didn’t even find me till two days later.”
Virgil spoke hoarsely, tears running down his face. “They should’ve helped you. They should’ve— You didn’t do anything wrong!”
Patton closer. “Are you sure? I… did kiss a boy…”
Virgil held Patton’s face in his hands. “I’m so sure. You did nothing wrong, Patton. You were a kid who fell in love. All those other people were wrong, completely!”
Patton’s face scrunched up, and he buried it in Virgil’s chest, bawling.
Virgil rubbed Patton’s back, and let him cry.
••^*^••
Virgil came back several more nights after that night, mostly to coax happier stories out of Patton, and tell stories of his own.
Over just those few days, Patton grew firmer, more visible, and he was only slightly cold to the touch anymore.
“Hey, Patton,” Virgil said. “Would you be ok if I shared your story? Then more people would know you, and I’m sure they would honor your memory.”
“You’d make sure I’m remembered?” Patton whispered, his eyes shining with awe and gratitude.
“I would,” Virgil said sincerely. “You’ll be remembered, and not only that, they’ll be angry for you, they’ll cry for you.”
A tear ran down Patton’s cheek, but instead of the air feeling heavy, it felt light.
“And if something like what happened to you ever happens again, I’ll stop it. I swear.”
Patton looked shimmery around the edges, and he reached out for Virgil’s hand. His hands felt less solid than they had been.
“Thank you, Virgil!”
He was becoming less and less corporeal, the edges of his body fuzzing and turning back to mist.
He was passing on.
Virgil hugged Patton, trying to hold onto him even as he knew it was inevitable at this point. “I’ll do it, Patton. I promise. I promise.”
Patton shimmered out of existence in his arms.
“Thank you.”
Virgil was left in a truly empty graveyard.
He’d done it. He’d helped a ghost pass on. But he didn’t feel the triumph he’d expected. It was a mixture of happiness and sorrow so intense it poured out of him in tears.
A land full of fairies and magic, selkies, dragons, curses and blessings. Incredible and beautiful. But humans don't like to share their land and home with those unlike themselves. The ways in which they fight back are many and varied, and often subtle, but they do fight back. Except for some, who revel in the strange and the new, and embrace the wonders of a world beyond themselves.
1: "Sabotaging an already-rigged game is valid, right?"
2: “Shouldn’t have done that — Now you’re cursed.”
3: “Hey, I’m at the grocery store, do you want some tiny pumpkins?”
4: “If I die, I’m haunting you.”
5: “Alone and lonely.”
6: Virgil may have been dead for centuries, but this is still HIS house, and he doesn’t approve of new people trying to move in
7: “Wake me up from this nightmare!”
8: Someone is a werewolf but instead of turning into a wolf they are a cute doggo? and their friend finds out and ends up petting them.
9: “No, you’re not allowed to put me down.”
10: “Do you want cinnamon in your apple cider?”
11: You take your younger sibling trick or treating in a short cut through the cemetery but don’t realize the full moon turns your costumes into real superpowers until the sun rises.
12: Borrowers roasting marshmallows over a candle
13: A Badly Mangled Lesson
14: Tragically Disconnected
15: Guilt: It’ll eat you alive
16: “The weather is getting cold, therefore cuddle me.”
In which Virgil has taken lessons on how to demand affection: Masterpost
Virgil wants affection. And has been trying hard to learn how to get it. Finally he tries, and has far more success than he ever guessed he would have.
After Virgil’s success, others decide to try their luck too.
In which Virgil has taken lessons on how to demand affection: Part Six, Janus.
Virgil Roman Patton Remus Logan
Janus had been swamped in work. With all the affection flying around, the inner workings of Thomas’s mind were shifting. Which meant a lot of hidden things uncovered and some open things hidden, and some things he’d had to hide and then reveal multiple times now. He was exhausted.
It was that, above all the other reasons, that made him first consider demanding affection himself. He was relatively certain he could finagle and guilt his way into being spoiled for a day.
It just… would open doors if he did.
With Virgil and then Roman, it was just a kiss. Then he’d seen how Patton had been acting, and opened himself up a bit more. Then Remus managed to sneak upstairs. And with Logan he’d spent a whole, admittedly pleasant, hour. But for him to ask them for affection, even weaseling it out of them, it would break the separation between the ‘dark’ and ‘light’ side completely. He could tell already, the door at the top of the stairs would vanish, make the mindscape more cohesive.
In his opinion, it would be good for Thomas. But his opinion wasn’t necessarily the one that mattered. What mattered most was Thomas’s opinion. They all had gone rearranging his mind with this affection business, and Thomas could be either loving or hating it.
If he decided he wanted it, he would have to talk to Thomas first to be sure it would be ok.
— — —
Janus appeared in the kitchen while Thomas was making himself some breakfast.
“Oh! Janus. Are you here for the affection thing too?”
Janus waved at him to continue his cooking. “In a way. I wanted to talk with you about the effects of the requests for affection.”
Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Ok?”
“You know we’ve been asking affection from each other and from you as well. I’m sure you’ve noticed that as a result you’ve become a lot more… comfortable, with the aspects of yourself you previously considered to be dark.”
Thomas frowned in thought. “Yeah… I guess I have… I’m, not sure that that’s a bad thing though, or maybe it is, cause you’re coming to talk to me about it—“
Thomas was about to spiral into anxiety, so Janus held up a hand to stop him. “It’s not bad unless you think it is. If you’re content with it as it is, it could be a good thing. If you’re upset by it, it could be a bad thing.”
Thomas, still frowning, nodded. “What if I just want to see where it goes?”
Janus leaned against the counter. He gave Thomas a slow smirk. “I can’t tell you everything.”
Thomas huffed a short laugh. He set his bowl aside and held out his arms. “But you’ll be around while I figure things out.”
Something about those words slammed into Janus in such a strangely soft way. Despite bringing up problems and not offering a solution, he was accepted, wanted, counted on. Thomas was offering him a hug.
He stepped forward tentatively, and Thomas met him halfway, holding him safe and secure.
— — —
Janus flopped onto the foot of Virgil’s bed. “You owe me. You and your affection, making so much work, now you have to be nice to me.”
He almost hadn’t expected it to work. He thought Virgil might shove him off, yell at him to leave, perhaps he’d even be scared by Janus’s sudden appearance.
But instead Virgil snorted. “You could ask like a normal person, you know.” He flipped a corner of his blanket over Janus.
Janus made his way up to the head of the bed, stealing one of Virgil’s pillows.
Virgil took his hat in retribution, setting it on his own head. Janus hissed half-heartedly, and Virgil hissed right back.
Virgil ended up letting Janus nap there, and even scritched gently at his scalp while he dozed.
— — —
Roman looked shocked to see Janus lounging on the couch.
Janus slowly waved, smirking.
“What are you doing up here?” Roman asked, clearly suspicious.
Janus rolled his eyes in a way he knew was infuriating. “What were you doing downstairs?”
Roman blinked. “Oh. Ok then.”
It was Janus’s turn to be shocked. Roman stood down just from that?? Virgil he could understand, their history had both good and bad to pull from, but Roman?
“You want, like, a hug?” Roman asked, holding his arms out.
Janus just stared at him, unconsciously pulling his legs in closer.
Roman raised his hands. “Hey, it’s ok if you don’t, I just figured, if you were here for affection, I might as well offer.”
Janus was still processing that Roman was not only no longer suspicious, but also offering affection without the slightest bit of coercion.
“Perhaps… you’d prefer a kiss, like you gave to me?”
Janus really wanted for time to pause until he could make sense of everything. But it didn’t, the relentless thing, so he just nodded silently to Roman, not yet capable of forming an answer.
Roman came close, swooping off Janus’s hat with a flourish, and gently kissed his forehead.
Janus’s mind fuzzed over.
— — —
He still hadn’t figured it out when Patton came in the room later. He was just staring at his hat in his lap.
“Hey there, Jan, Roman said you were around,” Patton said cheerfully.
“You all really are open to us being here,” Janus murmured.
Patton’s face went from cheerful to serious, and he sat down next to Janus. “Yes, we are. I know there’s been an awful lot of division between us all, and I’m sure we’ll still hurt each other’s feelings sometimes, but I’m actually hopeful that we can all get along together now. I’d like that a lot.”
The door to the stairs, replacing the door to the closet in this facsimile of Thomas’s living room, vanished.
Janus stared at the doorframe. Gone. Passage between the ‘dark’ and ‘light’ side now completely open.
There were feelings crowding in at his chest, and he couldn’t parse them.
“Can I give you a hug?” Patton asked.
Janus silently nodded, reaching out and letting Patton hold him.
— — —
Janus knocked at Logan’s door.
“Come in,” Logan said from inside.
Janus went inside, carefully shutting the door behind himself.
“Oh, Janus. Interesting to see you here.”
“Can I stay a while?” Janus asked. “I have… a lot to think about.”
Logan’s forehead creased in worry, but he nodded. “Would you be open to talking about it?”
Janus sat on the edge of the bed, one hand idly scratching at his scales. “The door between the dark and light side disappeared.”
Logan nodded slowly and seriously. “Do you consider that to be a good or bad thing?”
Janus was suddenly reminded of his conversation with Thomas. “I don’t know. But it scares me not to know.”
“I can relate to that fear.”
Janus looked up at Logan, hoping for an answer.
“There are many things I don’t know that scare me. But I have you all to face them with me. If something does turn out to be harmful, I know I have people on my side that will help me.”
“But you’ll be around while I figure things out.”
Janus nodded, his eyes starting to well with tears for no reason.
Logan pulled a blanket out of a basket and tucked it around Janus’s shoulders. “If the change become overwhelming to you, my room is open.”
“Thank you,” Janus said, his voice shaky.
— — —
“Remus, would you stay with me tonight? If you don’t mind, I would appreciate some company.”
Remus, who’d been about to leave and go to bed, stopped immediately. “No problem, Janny, I’d love to stay.”
Remus wiggled his way under the covers, latching onto Janus and holding him in a close cuddle. “Are you doing alright?”
Janus nodded, hugging Remus back. “A lot has changed. I feel like I’ve lost my footing, and instead of falling I was caught by five pairs of hands. But now I have to trust them not to drop me.”
Remus nuzzled into Janus’s hair. “We won’t let you fall, Janus.”
Janus gripped tight. “Thank you.”
Remus chuckled. “Virgie sure did a big thing, didn’t he?”
“Much larger than I think anyone would’ve guessed,” Janus agreed.
“I think it’ll be a good thing though,” Remus said. “I mean, I’ve gotten loads of hugs and cuddles out of it already.”
Janus smiled, relaxing into Remus’s hold. “I’m glad for you. Do you know your brother tried to copy my forehead kiss?”
Remus laughed. “Bet he’s not half as good at it.”
Janus huffed a small laugh. “There’s not much to be ‘good’ at.”
“Of course there is! And you’re the best.” Remus asserted.
In which Virgil has taken lessons on how to demand affection: Part Five, Logan.
Virgil Roman Patton Remus Janus
Logan had been aware of the ‘Demanding Affection Lessons’. Patton had consulted him before even suggesting them to Virgil, and Logan had agreed that they might be useful. Though to be honest, he’d thought at the time that the ultimate result of the lessons would be a closer relationship between Virgil and Patton, and perhaps Virgil would become more vocal about his needs and wants.
He hadn’t expected the nervous request that day in the kitchen. It had caught him off guard, and he’d asked Virgil to repeat himself, even though he had heard it the first time. He could hardly believe Virgil was requesting affection from him, and though he did indeed feel affectionately towards Virgil, his attempt to fulfill the request had been, even in his own eyes, paltry.
But even more he hadn’t expected the way that Virgil’s requests for affection would spread amongst the other sides. Roman, Patton, even Remus had come up to ask for affection.
As he always did when confronted with something he hadn’t anticipated, he began collecting data. Even before Remus, but especially now that he had joined, Logan could confirm that the effect of the requests for affection was nothing but positive. General moods had improved, relationships between them all had been significantly strengthened, collaborative efforts to tackle problems had increased massively, and perhaps most important, Thomas was happier.
It was a logical move for Logan to also request affection from the other sides. The benefits were clear.
However.
He did not want to subject himself to five hugs. And that would also likely not have the same benefits. He would need to ask for things he wanted. He was just concerned that if he did so, he would be rejected. His requests would take more time than a simple hug. The other sides were busy themselves, and didn’t want to take time out of their days to do him favors.
But he could see from his data the benefits that were possible. The possible improvements to Thomas’s life. Even the potential improvements to his own. How could he squander all of that by not asking?
— — —
Patton was the safest first option. Not only because he was most likely to say yes, but also because he frequently cooked.
“Patton?” Logan said, beginning to understand more Virgil’s hesitance in asking.
“Yeah?” Patton said, looking up from his craft with a smile.
Logan held out a paper on which he’d listed approximate measurements and times. “I… would like to request… for you to make me a toast with Crofters. To me i-it would be affection.” Despite his previous rehearsing in the mirror, he still didn’t manage to make it through the request without stumbling.
Patton looked at the paper curiously. “Oh. Oh, I get it! Of course I will, Lo!”
Relief swept over him more powerfully than Logan had anticipated, and he needed to sit down. “Thank you, Patton.”
Patton gave him one of those soft looks, like he did when he wanted to hug someone, but he didn’t hug Logan, just stood up, looking again at the paper. “I’ll be right back!”
That toast Patton returned with seemed like the best one Logan had ever eaten.
— — —
With a grown confidence, Logan knocked on Roman’s door.
“Come in!”
Logan entered and held out a paper to Roman. “I have a request.”
Roman frowned at the paper a minute. “Chores?”
“Not exactly,” Logan said, knowing he’d tailored this request exactly to Roman. He pulled out his flash card to be sure of the correct term. “Those are indeed chores that need doing, but my request if for you to ‘gamify’ them. It would be as a favor to me, as… as affection.”
Roman’s head cocked to the side, and he silently mouthed ‘affection?’. Similarly to Patton, the meaning seemed to hit him all at once. “Oh! Oh, well yeah. I can definitely do that. I can’t promise that my games will work, Thomas might still leave the things undone, but I can definitely make games for the chores.”
Logan smiled, something fizzy feeling welling up in his chest. “Thank you, Roman.”
Roman grinned. “Anytime, Specs.”
— — —
With Virgil, he could text. It was relieving, not to have to ask in person.
Logan: I have a favor to ask
Virgil: ?
Logan: Have you heard the term ‘body doubling’?
Virgil: yeah, I’ve come across it once or twice
Logan: Would you be willing to come into my room and engage in your own activities while I do my work? It would be received as a form of affection.
Virgil: pfft, you all are such copycats. But yeah, totally, I’ll be over in a minute.
Sure enough, there was a soft knock at the door a few minutes later, and Virgil came in with two cups of tea. “Pat said we need to be hydrated.”
Logan smiled and nodded.
Virgil set one of the cups on Logan’s desk, and then slid down the wall with his own just beyond the desk, setting the cup on the floor next to him and pulling out his phone.
Despite Virgil being the embodiment of anxiety, it felt like a peace settled over the room.
Logan: Thank you.
Virgil: no prob 💜
— — —
Remus would be… interesting to ask. But Logan wanted to ask him before he asked Janus. For one reason, if things went poorly, he had one side left with whom he expected them to go well. For another, Remus was easier to find. Janus’s job required a lot of hiding away and working in the deeper parts of Thomas’s mind, and while he could often be found in his room, it was by no means a guarantee.
Almost the moment he walked into the downstairs living room he heard a snort.
“What, Mr. No-Feelings came for hugs too?”
“No actually, I have a request for a different type of affection.”
Remus popped up from behind the couch, streaked with a… substance. “Oh?”
“There are a few subjects in which I am interested, apart from my role as Thomas’s Logic and Curiosity. I wanted to ask if you would be willing to help mold the imagination in such a way that I can pursue those interests.”
Remus shrugged. “I mean, I probably won’t make it exactly accurate, but I’m game for helping you out. Why’d you ask me though? Why not Goody-Two-Shoes upstairs?”
Logan smiled slightly. “I believe some of the subjects would be of interest to you as well.” He held out a paper to Remus.
Remus’s expression went from curious, to intrigued, to nearly gleeful. “Oh hell yeah! Come on, Nerdy Wolverine! We’re doing this Now!”
— — —
It was his third attempt. Logan knocked on the door to Janus’s room.
Rather than saying ‘come in’, Janus opened the door, looking rather haggard.
Logan blinked. If he’d intended to ask anything else, he would have immediately regretted his request.
“Yes?” Janus said, leaning against the doorframe.
“I had come to ask… You are well known to be skilled at self-care, I had wanted to join you. It would be received as affection, and, perhaps it might be good for you at the moment as well.”
Janus gave him a half-hearted glare. “I’m fine.” His face smoothed out. “But yes, that would be nice.”
Logan helped set up, glad for the both of them to be able to relax in a hot bath and have a few hours of rest and pampering.
“If you ever want,” Logan offered. “I would be open to returning favors and affection.”
Janus just hummed noncommittally. “I appreciate the offer.”
— — —
He was going to have to be blunt. And clear.
He rose up in the bedroom. “Thomas, I have something to ask you.”
Thomas startled. “Ah! Logan! Geez, you could give me a little warning.”
“Apologies,” Logan said, feeling slightly deflated. “But I do have something to ask.”
“Yeah, of course,” Thomas said, pushing himself up to a sitting position. “What’s up?”
Logan offered a paper to Thomas. “I am continuing the requests for affection, however affection towards me would look different than it would towards others sides. I would greatly appreciate it if you would choose one of these healthy habits and commit to pursuing it, put it on a schedule and act on it regularly.”
Thomas studied the list.
“Additionally, Roman has created games associated with each of these, to make it easier to remember and complete.”
“Wow, Logan, this is really well thought out,” Thomas said, still looking at the paper. “I mean, I’d definitely need your help to stick with it, but sure, I’ll pick one of these.”
A broad smile invaded Logan’s face. “Of course I will be helping.”
In which Virgil has taken lessons on how to demand affection: Part Four, Remus.
Virgil Roman Patton Logan Janus
Warning for Remus-y metaphors relating to gore and indirect references to less than sfw things.
Remus had barely realized someone was in the room when Virgil had yelled “Remus! Affection!” Almost exactly the same as he had when they’d been kids. Though back then he hadn’t used words like affection, he’d grin and fling his arms out and call for a hug, or a spin, or a squish, or whatever he wanted.
Remus wasn’t one for nostalgia most of the time. He lived in the present, and loved or hated it as the situation presented itself. But in that moment it had swamped him entirely.
He’d hugged Virgil tight. “Haven’t seen you in ages, Stormy!”
But after that, Virgil had gone upstairs again. It made sense, he lived there now. But still.
And then other light sides had come down, oddly enough also asking for hugs. But. If they were coming down. Remus could go up.
— — —
But there was one person he obviously had to go to first.
Remus burst in the door as quietly as he could, which basically meant it didn’t bang too hard on the wall, and he flipped himself across Janus’s lap, knocking over a bottle of oily liquid.
Janus, used to his sudden and often riotous entrances, ignored the spilled liquid other than to sigh at the bottle and vanish it so it couldn’t spill any more. “Hello, Remus.”
Remus wiggled into a comfier position and grinned. “I wanted to spend time with you, do the whole ‘Affection!’ thing.”
Janus smiled back, and then a little spark of mischief gleamed in his eyes. He set a gloved hand on Remus’s face. Licking his hand didn’t do much when he had his gloves on, so Remus made a grab for the edge of the glove. Janus swatted his hand away, a playful grin growing on his face.
Remus knew to be careful and not let things get to the blood drawn level, but he loved this game, and soon he and Janus were tumbling off the bed, nearly wrestling.
— — —
Now that Janus was sound asleep, successfully exhausted and not paying attention anymore, Remus snuck out and went upstairs.
Obviously he knew who he wanted first.
He also knew he had to be a little sneaky. If he burst the door open up here, he’d be swarmed by angry sides, and… that might actually be fun. No. First came Virgil, then came angry sides.
He tried the handle, a bit surprised it wasn’t locked.
Virgil let out a little shriek when he saw someone entering. He always did get real antsy late at night.
Virgil scrambled for the light, and when it turned on he looked very pale. Oops. “Remus!”
Remus tried a wild grin.
Virgil threw a pillow at his head. “What are you doing in here?! You’re awful, you scared me! You— how are you up here?”
Remus shrugged. His energy and craze had abandoned him, probably mostly used up wrestling with Janus earlier, but still, traitorous. He was feeling, ugh, normal emotions. “I missed you too.”
Virgil blinked, several emotions Remus didn’t bother to try decoding crossing his face. Finally he looked down at his bed and patted beside him. “If you’re mostly clean you can share.”
There came that nostalgia feeling again. Remus hated it, it always made him feel like a piece of him had been ripped out all over again. And at the same time, he felt an intense longing.
Soon he had a double armful of spiderchild again. It was going to hurt more than a bucketful of his own guts when he had to leave.
— — —
Remus plopped himself in the middle of the couch in the living room. Virgil liked to sleep in, and as much as Remus wanted to stay and hold shadowling, he knew he would have less of the feelings that hurt if he didn’t have to see Virgil watching him leave. Letting him leave.
“Remus?” Logan asked curiously. “What are you doing here?”
Double damn that it was him first. Roman would have screamed and he could have dealt with all three sides at once.
Remus wiggled suggestively. “I’m here for affection~”
Logan’s nose wrinkled and he rolled his eyes, walking away. But after three steps he stopped.
“I would not be willing to provide what you’re insinuating,” Logan said. “But if your request is genuine, I would be willing to negotiate a way in which I can fulfill it.”
Remus blinked. Really? Even after Roman and Patton both had come for hugs out of the blue, he’d never suspected any of them would be willing to give affection to him, especially not to negotiate it.
Logan turned back to him, a bit cautious, but seeming to be sincere.
Remus’s brain spun the wheel of ‘goody-two-shoes approved but still kinda fun activities’, and landed on one. “What if we made slime and dyed it red and brown until it looks like congealed blood.”
Logan nodded slowly, considering. “Provided you assist in cleanup after, I would be willing to participate in that.”
Remus was still more than a little stunned, and his answering smile was barely even crazy.
— — —
As he had previously predicted, the moment Roman saw Remus, probably especially since he was next to Logan and they both had red slime at least up to their elbows, Roman screamed.
“What happened?!!”
Logan winced at the loud yell. It was a good thing Virgil’s room was soundproof or he would definitely be racing down here in a panic.
“Roman, please, it is far too early for such noise. Remus asked if I would make slime with him and I agreed.”
“It’s… slime?” Roman asked, nearly breathless, a sword having summoned into his hand and now clattering to the floor.
“Wanna join?” Remus offered, holding his slime filled hand above his head so it would drip in his hair and down his face like a headwound.
Roman took a few more seconds to just stare and breathe heavily. “I guess,” he said finally.
Roman was more fun than Logan, cause he was more willing to pretend the slime was blood, and when Remus threw a handful at his chest, he fell back with a groan, bemoaning his death at the traitorous hands of his evil brother. Remus climbed onto the table to gloat, covered in the blood of his enemies, at having finally made the ultimate betrayal. The kingdom would now be his!
— — —
He had to go back downstairs now. Janus and Virgil would wake up anytime, and he’d already helped clean up the red that had gone everywhere.
It had been… fun. He wouldn’t like to hold himself back so far all the time, but he could see why Virgil stayed up here.
“Well, I’ll get out of your hair,” he said to Patton, who’d followed him to the door. The awful sappy painful emotions were starting already. He just wanted them done with. He’d drown himself in the imagination. Fire and blood and sex and insanity.
“You know, especially if you give us a little heads up first, we’d be happy to have you visit again,” Patton said, his voice serious, genuine, not overly happy in his polite lies.
Remus wasn’t standing on the ground anymore, it had fallen out from under him. He reached out, and Patton caught him in a tight hug before he could float away.
There were tears on his face, catching in his mustache.
“I’m sorry…” Patton said, holding him tight and safe.
Remus clung to him.
— — —
I won’t bother you now, you have plans. But if those plans are ever R-rated, you know where to find me.
—Remus
Thomas looked over the note several times. Maybe… sometime, he could look back over his list of video games. Pick one he usually wouldn’t.
In which Virgil has taken lessons on how to demand affection: Part Three, Patton.
Virgil Roman Remus Logan Janus
Patton was nearly heartbroken. He’d given Virgil ‘lessons’ on how to ask for affection, trying to help him get over his anxiety a little. And he’d thought that it was just anxiety that he was helping.
But then when Virgil had finally tried it out with him he’d looked so worried, like if Patton had said no he might cry. And then Roman, bright, lively, Roman, had asked and he’d looked like he also was bracing for Patton to say no.
Two of his kiddos had been scared to ask for affection.
That could Not be allowed to keep going. He would give them All the affection they could want, and freely too!
— — —
Virgil was sitting on a beanbag doing something on his phone.
“Hi, Virge!” Patton said cheerfully, and too loudly, judging by Virgil’s jump.
“… hi.” Virgil said, setting down his phone. “I didn’t forget something we’re supposed to do, did I?”
“No, I just wanted to offer you a hug!”
Virgil’s face softened, the confusion fading. “Sure.” He held out his arms and Patton leaned down to give him a big hug.
— — —
Roman was carefully painting something, using his tiny paintbrush, so Patton knew he’d have to be careful not to startle him.
“Hey, Ro,” he said quietly.
Roman’s head did a movement, but his eyes didn’t leave the paper until he’d finished the stroke and set his paintbrush down.
He grinned at Patton. “What’s up, Popstar?”
“I wanted to offer hugs!” Patton said, holding his arms wide.
Roman’s smile got all bright, and he practically swooped Patton up in the hug, spinning them both around.
— — —
Patton knocked on Logan’s door.
“Come in,” Logan said, his voice muffled.
Patton opened the door, noting that Logan must be in a good mood today, cause the lights were all the way on. If he was stressed, he’d work with just a lamp and his star stickers for light.
“I’m giving everybody hugs!” Patton said cheerfully.
Logan nodded, considering for a moment before he stood up and let Patton hug him. Now that he thought about it, it was pretty rarely that he hugged Logan. He really needed to show off his affection for them all more often!
“Is this a continuation of the trend of asking for affection?” Logan asked.
“I guess so,” Patton said, wondering if it really was a trend, and how far it would go.
— — —
“Are you here for hugs too?” Remus asked. “You guys are all coming down out of nowhere for hugs.”
Patton shrugged and chuckled awkwardly. “Guess so.”
Remus promptly tackled him in a tight hug. Patton hugged back. He was surprised that he actually… liked it.
— — —
“You know, you’ve broken the trend,” Janus said smoothly, before Patton had a chance to say anything.
“I… what?”
Janus’s eyes seemed to trap Patton’s gaze where he couldn’t look away. “They’ve been asking for affection, whereas you’ve offered it. Surely you need some yourself.”
“Oh… no, I’m really good, I get plenty just from giving it to all of you guys, I—“ Patton’s words cut off as Janus set a finger over his mouth.
“You are just as in need of affection directed towards you as anyone else.”
It was a very long moment before Patton conceded with a small nod.
“You appreciate hugs?” Janus asked, just to confirm, as he wrapped Patton up gently in too many arms.
Patton nodded into his shoulder, a nice feeling growing in his chest, but somehow one that made him almost want to cry.
Janus pressed a kiss to his temple, and a tear slipped down Patton’s cheek.
— — —
“Hey Thomas,” Patton said, feeling more like a kid than a dad. “Can I sit with you?”
Thomas nodded immediately, looking worried. “Is anything wrong?”
Patton sat down next to him and leaned against him. “I’m just having a sad day.”
Thomas wrapped Patton up in a hug. “I’m glad you came to me. Sad days are good for sitting and cuddling.”
Patton nodded, relaxing into his arms. “Thank you.”
In which Virgil has taken lessons on how to demand affection: Part Two, Roman.
Virgil Patton Remus Logan Janus
“Roman!”
Roman had swung around, startled at the sudden call. What was wrong?
But Virgil had looked suddenly hesitant. “Ah. Affection… please.”
A sudden rush of intense warmth rose up inside Roman. Virgil wanted his attention, his affection, it was such a sudden and powerful reassurance that he was liked, was wanted.
Roman grabbed Virgil’s hands and pulled him into the stream of creativity. “Do you want to see what I’ve been working on?”
And then Virgil had smiled, and said “Absolutely,” like it was something he really did want to be involved in. The world practically sparkled all afternoon.
— — —
The question was, could Roman do that?
Patton was the safest, by far, to try on. And he’d know, if Patton refused him, not to try again.
For once, he was at a loss for a new nickname. “Pat?”
Patton looked up from his puzzle and beamed. “Yeah?”
“Would you… could I have… affection?” He hated that the final word came out almost whispered and squeaky.
But instead of smiling, Patton looked almost sad. “Oh, Roman, anytime, every time!” He held out his arms, and Roman practically fell into them.
— — —
This was so much harder than he’d thought. It wasn’t like Logan liked him, and then on top of that Roman couldn’t seem to ever follow Logan’s schedules.
But… he thought back to how the world had sparkled with Virgil, and the soft reassurance with Patton. And he wanted.
If he wasn’t so much of a coward he would’ve knocked already.
Logan opened the door before Roman could gather the courage, and jerked back. “Roman! Apologies, you startled me. Did you need something?”
Yes.
How had Virgil managed to do this?
“Could I have affection?” Roman blurted out, all of him wanting nothing more than to just sink out.
Logan set a hand on Roman’s shoulder, gripping gently. “I am unsure how to best express affection towards you… would you like to come in? I have a, ah, fanfiction, that I would be willing to share with you. Or perhaps you could advise me on how would be better to express affection to you?”
Roman’s eyes prickled, and his throat felt like it was closing up. “That… actually sounds amazing.”
— — —
Now this was entirely new ground. With the sheer wealth of affection showered on him so far by the light sides, Roman felt bolstered enough to attempt it, but it was still chancy.
Remus stopped what he was doing and looked at Roman, confusion plain on his face and in the tilt of his head. “What’re you doing down here?”
“I… actually came looking for,” well now it sounded almost dumb. “Affection?”
Remus’ confusion deepened. Then he shrugged. “Alright.”
Roman staggered back as he was suddenly grabbed in a tight hug. He didn’t know he was capable of feeling a genuine positive feeling around the dark sides, but this was actually really nice.
— — —
He’d always thought Deceit was, well, evil. They didn’t like each other. But Roman knew well how it felt to be left out of something for ‘obvious’ reasons that sometimes weren’t as true as they were assumed to be. And maybe he was also greedy to want affection from every side.
But here he was, standing again in the dark side.
Janus looked up from his book, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m… looking for affection,” Roman said, feeling awkward, but managing to ask clearly at least.
Janus’s eyebrow went up higher. But he stood, and walked over to Roman. One hand tipped Roman’s chin up, and then Janus leaned in and gently kissed his forehead, right above the bridge of his nose. Roman felt frozen in place, and his eyes closed.
When he opened them, Janus was gone.
He was definitely going to ask for that again.
— — —
He talked to Thomas all the time! Why was this time so hard??
“Roman? You ok, bud?” Thomas asked.
“I came to ask for affection?” Roman managed, not quite able to meet Thomas’s eyes. How could he, asking for favors when he couldn’t even keep up with what Thomas asked of him?
But Thomas went and grinned, all happily. “I don’t know what this is, but I’m loving it, come on!”
Roman was wrapped up in a hug.
“Do you want to make something with me?” Thomas asked. “Or would you want to do something a bit more mindless? Creating might be a bit too much like work.”
Roman squeezed Thomas tightly, almost overcome. He loved Thomas, loved all of them, so much!
In which Virgil has taken lessons on how to demand affection
Roman Patton Remus Logan Janus
“Affection.” Virgil said, holding his arms out and biting down on his lip, his vision going a bit blurry as the many ways he could be rejected swarmed through his mind one after the other. Especially with such a dumb way of asking, he could have at least made it an actual request, but he’d just barely managed to force it out at all and—
“Aww, kiddo, of course!” Patton said gently, hugging Virgil tightly and rocking the two of them back and forth.
Virgil sagged into the hug, hiding his face in Patton’s shoulder. “Was that ok?”
Patton squeezed him for a moment. “It was great, kiddo. I’m always open to give you hugs.”
Virgil squeezed Patton back. “Thanks.”
- - -
“Um…” it was harder this time. Logan wasn’t even looking at him, buttering and spreading jelly on his toast. If Virgil wasn’t fast Logan would finish and walk away. “Affection?”
“I’m sorry, were you addressing me?” Logan asked, turning to give Virgil his attention.
Virgil nodded silently.
“What was it you said? I wasn’t paying enough attention to hear it.”
Darn, he had to do it again. Virgil held out his arms slightly, trying to push past the freezing-up feeling overwhelming him. “Affection,” he managed to squeak out.
Logan blinked. “I see.” He reached out and set a hand on Virgil’s head, ruffling his hair slowly. “I do indeed think of you affectionately, though it is often difficult for me to express.”
A smile tugged at Virgil’s mouth, surprising warmth blooming in his chest. “Thanks, L.”
- - -
He had to catch Roman’s attention, Roman was flitting from activity to activity, his attention scattered and whirling.
He was going to have to yell. Or not yell, that sounded harsh. But speak loudly.
“Roman!”
Roman spun around, looking startled. Ugh, why did Virgil have such a knack for screwing things up even before they started? His “ah, affection, please,” was much quieter and more hesitant.
But Roman grinned, his face lighting up, and he grabbed both of Virgil’s hands, spinning them both in a circle. “Do you want to see what I’ve been working on?” He asked excitedly.
Virgil grinned back, swept up in Roman’s exuberance. “Absolutely.”
- - -
Now Remus was a lot easier. He was very open, and would just as cheerfully reject Virgil’s request as he would accept it. Even if his answer was no, Virgil didn’t really have anything to fear.
Virgil opened his arms. “Remus, affection!”
Remus practically tackled him, wrapping him with both his arms and his tentacles in a bear hug. “Haven’t seen you in ages, Stormy!”
A happy laugh bubbled up in Virgil’s chest. “I missed this.”
- - -
Virgil felt very small and hesitant. After all the hurt between them, did he really dare ask?
But after how nice it was with Remus… he’d been missing Janus a lot more intensely.
Virgil knocked on the door softly.
When Janus opened the door, he didn’t say anything. His expression was completely neutral, other than a little surprise.
Virgil shifted back and forth. “A-affection?” He said, his voice coming out in a stuttering half-whisper. He couldn’t meet Janus’s eyes.
Two hands took hold of his, and two more cupped his face, gently tipping it up to look at Janus. His eyes had gone all soft, though his face was still mostly neutral. He leaned in and pressed a short kiss to Virgil’s forehead.
Virgil’s chin wobbled, and he pushed forward, grabbing Janus in a hug. After a moment, six arms wrapped around him, holding him tight.
- - -
Virgil felt most awkward this time. Janus had been harder, but this felt more awkward and strange. His previous successes though helped him feel more confident that he at least wouldn’t be rejected harshly.
He rose up in Thomas’s living room.
“Oh hey, Virge! What’s up?” Thomas was watching something, but paused it to give Virgil his attention.
“I… I wanted… affection.”
Thomas looked like he was restraining himself from cooing, which Virgil appreciated. “Sure thing! Come sit here.” He patted the couch next to him.
Virgil still felt awkward, but came and sat down next to him. Thomas slung an arm around his shoulders, pulling him flush with his side. “Wanna watch with me? We can keep watching this or you can pick something.”
Virgil grinned crookedly, relaxing somewhat against Thomas. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”
Roman tossed another paper to the ground angrily. There was only three lines and a scrap of a sentence on it before it was rejected this time.
Thomas wanted to create. More than that, Roman wanted to create. So why couldn’t he?!
Perhaps he was just trying something wrong. Maybe a song. That was it. A song would be perfect. He loved to sing!
He stood up so abruptly he nearly knocked the chair over, puffing his chest out and taking in a deep breath, ready to wow the world with… what? The air deflated like a sad balloon as he tried and failed to choose a song.
The scraps of energy he’d been hoarding fizzled out.
Roman flung himself onto his bed, tears pricking his eyes as Thomas gave up and went to do something else. He’d tried so hard!
For nothing.
Nothing successful anyway.
Roman groaned into the mattress. He felt awful. He hated failing Thomas, but it seemed he was doing it more and more often recently.
He was dying of shame and misery and he needed assistance.
He dragged himself to his feet and shambled out into the common area, spotting Patton watching reruns on the couch, and flopping onto the couch with his head in Patton’s lap.
“Oh hey, kiddo,” Patton said sympathetically. “Having a hard day?”
Roman smushed his face into Patton’s stomach. “I’m a failure.”
“No… hey, you aren’t,” Patton said, petting Roman’s hair. “You’re our amazing creative prince, and I’m sure whatever is being hard will work out soon.”
Roman wasn’t sure he believed it. But the hair petting was nice. So he didn’t answer. And was very grateful that Patton didn’t push.
Someone else walked into the room, with an air of stuffiness and the kind of boring that was ‘class’. Logan. Roman didn’t look up, pouting against Patton’s shirt. He felt bad, he didn’t want to get into arguments.
Logan sank out, and pretty soon Roman could pick up on the fussing at Thomas. He was surprised that Logan was backing him up, saying there’s no way Roman would be able to produce unless Thomas got his life together. He appreciated it. A little. Part of him felt even worse that he’d failed Thomas and gotten him yelled at.
A sudden chill of ‘emo’ invaded the room hesitantly.
“Hey, I don’t want to pressure, but it’s been a while, and Thomas wanted me to remind everyone that he wants to post regularly.”
Roman’s face scrunched up, emotion roaring through him. He didn’t want to yell. “I know,” he mumbled, trying not to let his voice crack.
Virgil sat just past Roman’s feet, the couch dipping and shifting him slightly. The slight shift made him him slightly more uncomfortable, and it all just kept adding up, and he didn’t want to cry in front of them. Patton could probably feel dampness already, and Roman could only pray he’d keep the secret.
The air smelled like ink and highlighters again when Logan got back.
He was standing somewhere behind Roman’s back, and set a hand on Roman’s shoulder.
“We’re all for you, kiddo,” Patton said gently.
Roman could feel Virgil stiffen just before he smelled the stink and heard a cough that was somehow smooth.
“Patton’s telling the truth,” Janus said. “It’s ok for you to take a break. If you don’t… it’s possible a burn out is in the future.”
“But it’s not ok!” Roman said, his voice cracking miserably. “Thomas needs me!”
“He needs you to Not burn out!” Remus yelled, surprisingly earnest. “If he needs ‘content’ so bad, I’ll Give it to him!”
“He needs stuff good enough to make money from!” Roman protested, turning out to face them, even with his face tearstained.
“Or he could make money another way,” Logan said. “He has other skills. Perhaps it’s time for him to utilize those, and give you the break you deserve.”
“I…” he did need a break. But he didn’t want one. He wanted to create. Wanted his creations to come fast and easy and useful and… “I don’t want to be unimportant.”
“You’ll never be unimportant. Never.” Virgil promised.
“But if Thomas does something else for a job, what will he even need me for?” Roman asked.
There was silence for a moment. A moment far too long, as Roman’s heart sank.
“You’ll be his refuge,” Janus said. “When Logan has led him through all that’s healthy and successful, and he’s tired and needs a rest, a way to rejuvenate, that’s where you’ll be.”
“But I can’t even do that now, and he’s giving me so much of the energy,” Roman said, more tears slipping down his face.
“You’re on the verge of what could be a burnout,” Logan said quietly.
“You don’t know that!” Roman wanted to say, but instead what came out was, “I don’t want to be!”
He couldn’t stop from breaking down anymore, despite his audience.
They gathered silently closer, and Roman was wrapped in a slow group hug.
“We’re all in this together,” Patton whispered. “We’re here for you. And we’ll make it through this.”
Elora, a woman with wings, is trying to make a magic harp. She’s distracted by students causing problems in the school library she works in, and also by a beautiful woman named Asha who seems to really like her. But then things get to be a bit more confusing with a boy who actually isn't a student, and strange behavior from a wizard's cat.
The original unedited chapters are available on Kofi, and you’ll need to be supporting me at $5 a month to access them.
Why I’m asking for paid supporters
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
You can buy the ebook for $2.99, or listen to me read it for free!
About half the first chapter is also available as a sample 😊
The afternoon sun streamed through the window into her little attic room, warming it pleasantly and making the whole room feel bright and airy. It was a small room, but she’d made it hers, breaking up the wooden boards of the floors and walls with cream and pink, curtains and bedspread acquired over years of small wages and meticulous hand sewing.
Elora tucked her wings in close, not wanting to ruin the magic she was working with a stray feather or breeze. She’d been working on this for too long to ruin it now. Not now when it was so close. Just five more strings.
She took the braid, carefully woven of seven strands of long golden hair, just exactly as long as she needed. The hair had been a gift. She’d asked for it, but that made it no less a gift, as no payment had been asked in return. She tied one end very carefully at the top of the harp, pulling it taut, but not too tight, and fastened the other end.
Very gently, she plucked each string she had so far, soft, sweet tones filling her little space. She listened carefully, tuning the new one to the right note.
“Elora!” a familiar voice called, and she quickly threw her blanket over the unfinished harp, dusting her hands off on her apron as if there were evidence on them that might show what she’d been doing.
She ran out of the room, shutting the door very quietly and turning to the side, so it would look more like she had been passing by, not that she’d been inside.
“Coming!” Elora called, trying to hit that tone between eager-to-please and calm, without guilt over having been away from her place.
“Oh good, I’ve been looking for you for ages. You’re needed in the library.” The matron of the first-year class said a bit sternly as Elora reached her.
Elora hid her worry. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll go there right away.”
If it was first-years, they’d probably gone and made a mess of all the books. Again. It seemed no one properly respected the library until they’d been studying at least a full year. But since the school accepted new students yearly, Elora had to deal with an assortment of people that believed ’student’ meant they didn’t have to clean up behind themselves.
Well, it was at least possible that she could get another gift for finishing the harp. She’d have used her own hair, but it was too short, a pale tan-colored fluff more like down than hair anymore, and wasn’t good for any but the first few, smallest strings, even after braiding. And anyway, the magic she was trying to imbue the harp with always seemed to work best with a variety of gifts.
She ran down into the library, her wings fanning out for balance and tucking in so she could get through the door. She didn’t expect someone to be standing directly in front of the door, and her wings shot instinctively to brake, one of them smacking into the door, and making it bang against the wall very loudly.
She winced as every eye in the room was drawn to her abrupt entrance. She really shouldn’t have tried to run in.
The man she’d nearly crashed into was a wizard, old with long robes and thick glasses. He was a frequent visitor of the library, sometimes staying for hours at a time. His eyes were wide, blinking at her with a hand on his chest.
She tucked her wings in quickly, with a very small, “Sorry.”
“She’s cursed…” one of the first-years murmured.
Elora fluffed up in indignation, looking around the wizard to try to see who had said it. “It’s a blessing!”
The man set a hand on her head, which, on top of everything else, seemed incredibly condescending. “It’s alright, dear, they’re young and foolish.”
“Yes,” she bit out. “They are.”
She walked off into the shelves of books, leaving them all behind. Of course there was a wave of whispers as she left their line of sight, but she genuinely didn’t want to hear them.
Her cheeks burned with both embarrassment and anger, and she avoided the eyes of anyone she could see, just picking up books and scrolls that were out of place and collecting them onto the cart, ready for putting away later, when there were less rude people milling around the library.
They left her alone for a while, which she appreciated, still upset that they whispered and judged her, but glad that they at least had enough sense not to bother her directly.
She carried another armful of books back to the cart, and there was a boy standing beside it, watching her silently. She ignored him, stubbornly keeping her gaze averted for several trips back and forth, but finally the cart was full, and she frowned rather grumpily at him.
“What?”
He looked down and shuffled awkwardly. He was young, younger than most first-years that were accepted, with curly black hair and dark skin that contrasted with the light gray of the first-year robes. “Sorry, it can wait if you’re busy.”
Elora sighed and made an effort to relax her frown. “No, go ahead. What is it?”
He lifted the book in his arms. “This references the chronicles of Iphior, and I wanted to try and find them.”
Elora thought for a moment. “Ahhhh, I remember. That one always used to catch me too. Iphior went and called what is more technically a diary his ‘chronicles’. Since they don’t record any historical events, only his own experiments and home-made spells and various musings, they aren’t categorized by the library with the other chronicles. Look in the personal writings shelves, it’ll be under C or I.”
The boy nodded, his expression empty other than a politeness he seemed to exude. “Thank you. Are you a student here too then?”
Elora blinked, and nearly blushed. “Oh. Ah, no, I’m not. But since I work in the library I’m allowed to read the books. And the chronicles of Iphior are pretty well-known.” She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “For all your teachers will tell you he was eccentric and dangerously experimental, he’s influenced many great users of magic.”
The boy nodded again, slowly, his dark eyes wide.
Not able to resist, Elora lowered her tone further, leaning in a bit more. “Often, experimenting on your own will get you better results than the kinds of spells they teach you in class. But you didn’t hear that from me.”
He nodded a third time, his face solemn, but a spark of curiosity plain in his eyes.
Elora stood straight again and grinned. “Well, off you go. If you can’t find it after a while, come back and I’ll help you.”
He scurried off, heading right for the correct section.
Elora went back to her book-collecting feeling much better than she had previously.
Making a Magic Harp is now Available for Purchase!!!
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It’s $2.99 on Smashbooks, and hopefully available in other places soon!
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1098875
Elora, a woman with wings, is trying to make a magic harp. She’s distracted by students causing problems in the school library she works in,
Elora, who’s been blessed (or perhaps cursed) with wings, works in a library at a school teaching magic. Though the magic is very dangerous, and she certainly doesn’t have any training, she’s trying to make a magical harp.
Though her creating is hindered by her job, and also by meeting an extremely pretty woman named Asha.
And then the students start trying to do their own experiments with magic, which are not going well. One of the students isn't actually a student, and the wizard's cat has been hanging around him a lot. The library gets trashed more than once, and when Elora tries to report the students to the teachers she ends up chased across the school and getting hurt. Which is a bad thing, particularly because having bruises on her face is awfully embarrassing when she's trying to meet up with Asha for a picnic dinner.
She ends up telling Asha all about her harp that she's making, and Asha helps her to finish it. But then it won't make a sound. Or at least, not a harp-like sound.
Content Warnings:
Mentions of vomit, bones, and death. Mild injury. Food. Magic spells that turn people into animals.
Still did, though his love had been dampened by the way in which he was currently seeing them.
He watched out the window, or rather, screen, but it was made to show the outside of the ship, and thinking of it as a window was oddly comforting. A bit of something close to home.
A lump grew in his throat at the thought of home, pressing against the collar. He forced himself back to a neutral, tugging the collar away from the front of his throat as far as it would go. A brief flicker of anger replaced the nostalgia. Anger at the collar, at his own inability to remove it, at the monsters that had forced it onto him, at his own complacency now that it was on.
He didn’t have it as bad as some other humans did, he was well aware. All the collar did was teleport him to the location of the person holding the remote. Granted, it was unpleasant and incredibly disorienting, but nothing like the near-torture he’d heard was the more common method of keeping humans captive.
The captain of the ship was smart in choosing Logan, as far as the welfare of the ship went.
“You’re invested in your own survival,” He’d said through the translators. “If the ship goes down, you’ll go with it. If you sabotage the ship and try to escape on a pod, I can get you back to me immediately, and you’ll meet the same fate as you intended for us. It’s in your best interests to cooperate and to bond with the crew.”
Well, Logan could agree that it was in his best interests to cooperate. But no one could make him get attached to anyone. And no one could stop him from making little problems.
Like ignoring the insistent, “Human, where are you? Human!” that was coming from his communicator.
The window dissolved in front of him, and Logan felt abruptly as if he were on the world’s worst rollercoaster for several seconds. It took him a minute to register the angry captain now in front of him. He was yelling something, but not through the communicator, so Logan couldn’t understand what. And he was far too dizzy and almost nauseous to pay attention even if it was understandable.
He shook his head slowly from side to side and up and down once, hoping to clear the vertigo somewhat.
“You must come when called!” The communicator translated. “Or at least answer!”
Logan stubbornly remained silent, the dizziness gradually clearing.
For an alien that looked more like a slime monster than anything with a real face, the captain still managed to look extremely displeased. Not that Logan cared.
“There are ------ trailing our ship,” the captain said, one of his words not translating properly. “We need to go faster or we’ll get boarded.”
Ok, maybe Logan did care.
“Humans are supposed to be good at making ships go faster, fix it.”
Logan frowned. “I’ve been here three days,” he said into the communicator. “I hardly know how anything in the ship works, much less how to improve any of its functions!”
“I’ve studied humans, I know better than that, fix it.” The captain said shortly.
Logan opened his mouth to protest, but the room around him dissolved, the horrible spinning sensation back. His legs gave out and he dropped onto the floor in a different place.
He swallowed hard, his stomach threatening to upend itself.
“And they call you deathworlders,” someone scoffed. “A transporter has you on your knees.”
Beyond his sick feelings, and the anger at being mocked, he caught onto that plural reference. Was there another human on the ship?
In addition, there were apparently multiple remotes to the teleporter around his throat, which ruined his plan of trying to steal or fight the captain for the one.
He slowly sat up, his head still spinning. He hoped that his body would eventually grow accustomed to the teleportation and the dizziness would stop being so awful.
There was a chittering sound beside him that the translator didn’t attempt to process. He turned to see an alien that would likely be very tall if it wasn’t on all fours. It was very thin, with long arms and legs, which ended in smooth nubs, without hands or feet. The front two, which Logan thought of as arms, though the alien probably would have a different name for them, seemed to be perforated along the last six inches. As Logan watched, one of them was extended towards him slowly, and something softer could be seen on the inside. It was able to be extruded through the holes, and was likely the way in which the alien could grasp things.
He backed away from the limb before it could touch him, and the alien also backed away a step, making a low woody sounding whistle, like air blown over a jug. It’s head looked rather moth-like, with antenna that curled and straightened, and large eyes.
The alien seemed sentient, though Logan was confused that the translator wasn’t picking up on its speech.
Until he saw a very familiar collar, only around their waist. They were also captive then. And possibly, though it disappointed his hopes of meeting another human, they were the other deathworlder, also affected poorly by the teleportation.
The strange attempted touch then, could have potentially been intended as comfort or aid.
“You’ve been sitting long enough, get this ship to move faster,” the other alien in the room grumbled.
Logan glared. “How am I even supposed to do that?” He snapped. “I don’t have training or experience, I don’t know what half this stuff is and I can’t read your labels!”
“You can either fix it now, or we can teleport you between here and the captain until you do.” The alien's tone was disgusting and wet, and Logan was glad he could focus on the robot sound of the translator as his stomach lurched again.
He could try.
If nothing else, he might learn some new things and be able to convince them that he really wasn’t able to just do things he’d never tried before.
The room was smaller than he would’ve expected, presuming he was in a kind of engine room. Around the edges of the room were a number of bins, holding substances ranging from powders to liquids.
In the center of the room was a glass tube that went from floor to ceiling, and seemed to be filled with a glowing crystal stalagmite. From the top of the tube dripped some kind of liquid, and at the bottom it flowed out in small pipes, glowing the same as the crystal and possibly converted into fuel.
He could assume that with all of the powders and liquids that there was a chemical reaction causing the substance to obtain the glowing quality and become fuel. But what that was, and how to know what was safe to change about it, he had no idea.
“Well?” The alien, whom he now assumed to be what served as the ship’s engineer, asked.
He was making so many assumptions, and still was barely anywhere. They could all be wrong.
“Explain to me how it works,” Logan said. “Then I’ll try to ‘fix’ it.”
The alien made an unpleasant sound that the translator interpreted as a sigh. “This is a ——-, the liquid is a mixture of ——, ——, ——-, and ——, but it could be made with any of the ——— family instead of the ———, or you could replace the ———- with ——— for better efficiency at different energy levels. We also have several forms of ———-, which ought to make more potent fuel for higher speeds, but every time we’ve tried the ———- smokes and explodes and there’s residue in the tubing for several rotations which puts us at a standstill.”
Logan grimaced. He had a very small idea of what was being said based on gestures, but he’d much prefer to have names and details. It seemed this was a very large and dangerous version of chemistry experiments, with no textbook, and his only advice coming from someone who hadn’t studied.
Well, there was the other ‘deathworlder’ in the room. He could only hope they knew something about any of this. Though the difficulty in communication might make that knowledge impossible to access.
He turned towards them anyway. “Can you understand me at all?”
They made another low whistling sound, followed by chittering. One arm waved, with… could he call them fingers? gesturing towards Logan.
He hoped desperately that he could consider that to be a yes.
“What would you do in—“
The engineer’s communicator interrupted him. “We thought we’d have a few more rotations but they’re closing in, has the human done anything yet?”
“No,” the engineer said. “It’s just staring at everything.”
“Well get it to hurry!”
The other ‘deathworlder’ made a long series of noises, pointing at one bin in particular and then at a place where it seemed the not-yet-fuel liquid was.
It was a foolish thing. A very foolish thing. But Logan took a scoop from the bin and dumped the powder into the liquid.
It bubbled and fizzed on contact, sending up thick clouds of a dark blue smoke.
An alarm blared.
The ship lurched, knocking them all to the ground.
And then the new ingredient actually hit the crystal, and there was a loud, high pitched ringing.
Logan covered his ears and shut his eyes, feeling like a weight was pressing him to the floor.
Everything was spinning, and loud, and then it was loud in a very different, but no less painful way.
“Protect me!” The captain shrieked.
There was a pained, screeching scream.
Logan was shoved, but he was barely aware of which direction, let alone what he was supposed to do about any of it.
Something grabbed onto his shoulders, and he flailed, hitting and kicking indiscriminately. Something burned on his side, and he kicked into something much more solid, sending a throbbing pain up his leg.
Everything was noise and pain and lights and movement and he didn’t understand any of it!
Logan struck out blindly at anything that came near him.
He thought he’d backed into a wall, but something must’ve been behind him, and it hit him hard over the head. He dropped to the floor, tears swimming in his eyes and blurring everything even further.
Everything dissolved around him and he was falling, spinning, dropping, tossed.
He was grateful more than anything when unconsciousness took him.
•^*^••
He woke slowly, feeling hazy and heavy. It was quiet, and not too bright, nothing was touching him. So he didn’t bother to open his eyes, just laying still.
He wasn’t dead at least.
Probably the pirates had attacked. Definitely he’d ruined the ship he’d been on.
The question was, was being with pirates any better than living on a ruined ship with aliens that considered him to be some kind of hyper-intelligent slave?
Or perhaps the question was, where was he now?
He forced his eyes open.
He was in a relatively large, empty room. The floor and walls seemed bare, though patched, not all of a single material.
He pushed himself up. There was a loud skittering noise away from him, and he yelped, flinging himself away clumsily.
He turned, and saw the other deathworlder, front legs shaking and making a rattling noise. He wasn’t sure if it was a fear response, a method of communication, or even some kind of threat display.
“It’s alright,” he said quietly, backing up a little farther.
The other alien didn’t try to come close again, so he figured it was mostly likely not interested in threatening him. There wasn’t an echo of his words in an alien language though, and he patted his shoulder to discover that the translator had been taken. His hand went to his throat, disappointed to find that they’d left the collar.
It was still there on the other alien also. They were both still prisoners then, wherever they were.
Looking around, it seemed that they were in an empty cargo space, rather than a proper holding cell, so there was a slightly greater possibility of escape.
There was that low whistling sound again. Logan was certain it was meant as a form of communication.
He tried whistling back, as low as he was capable of.
The alien chittered and shook its legs again, but Logan couldn’t tell even if it was a positive or negative reaction.
“I… don’t know how to talk with you,” he said, keeping his tone low and calm. He sat in a comfortable, loose position, hoping to get across the calm in his tone and posture. “But I’d like to try. I’m not sure what anything you’re doing means, and it’s possible you’re in the same situation. I’m hoping that you have more knowledge of humans than I do of your kind, and that you’ll be able to make better inferences than I’m currently capable of.”
The alien cocked its head to the side, watching him as he spoke. It took a tentative step forward on its spindly legs, and then propped itself on three, holding the fourth out to him.
Logan eyed the appendage. The softer inside substance was filling the holes, making it appear to have small bumps, rather than holes. He held out a hand to it, but didn’t try to touch.
The alien bumped the end of its leg into Logan’s palm.
That seemed… good? Perhaps this was a greeting similar to a handshake?
Logan very gently grasped the end of the appendage, the softer inside substance feeling cool to the touch, and almost like a stiff putty, whereas the harder outer shell felt very smooth and rigid, similar to metal, but light.
The alien retracted their arm, and then looked between their arm and his hand. The inner substance reformed, pressing out from several holes into a clear attempt at fingers. It seemed to be fully controlled by the alien, and moveable, albeit much more slowly than Logan could move his own fingers.
“That’s very impressive,” Logan said.
The alien chittered back at him.
Perhaps they could get somewhere through a kind of charades.
•^*^••
“I think that’s all we can carry,” Roman said, looking over the wreckage.
“We can hold more, we aren’t full yet,” Remus protested, still sad that some of the ship’s inhabitants had taken the escape pods. Aside from the power crystal, which was far too unstable to take, they were the best value on the little ship.
“The whole 3rd cargo bay is empty for the two deathworlders, we’re full.” Roman insisted.
“Oh. Forgot about them. Well, if we can hold ‘em, they might be enough to make it worth it.”
“If we can refill,” Roman grumbled. “I was expecting usable power from this ship.”
It had really been a not-very-great raid. They’d lost Aide, and Bill, and Rahgezis, and hadn’t even gotten much of anything good out of it.
And the deathworlders were far too grumpy to join the crew. If they’d had enough room they would’ve separated them, but he just took away the translators and hoped they weren’t already pack-bonded, and wouldn’t become so. Two single deathworlders were bad enough, two together? Their ship would be a wreck from the inside out.
They needed to give them a rotation or two to calm down, try and have a talk, and then drop them off at the nearest Embassy and get away before bad things happened.
Maybe the Embassy would even pay them for handing over deathworlders. Or maybe they’d arrest them for being pirates.
But without Rahgezis, Remus didn’t want to attempt anything on the black market with such a high demand as deathworlders.
And the teleportation bands should make it a little easier on them. They were super old, and no one in their right mind would use them, except as a practical joke, or a way of keeping enemies too off balance to attack. The ones on the two of them had been fused closed, rather than the usual buckle, so he felt more safe trying to hold the deathworlders than he would otherwise.
They’d only found one remote, but Inshes was already working on making a second.
“I’m going to see if the Scraascik is on any registries,” Roman said. “And I’ll check for the Human, but that’s less likely.”
Remus nodded. “I’ll handle getting us moving again. If they’re awake, maybe you could see about dropping some food into the cargo bay.”
“Yeah, I’ll try.” Roman sighed.
Remus set a claw on Roman’s back. Roman grumbled, leaning into Remus’s side, and then went off to do his research.
It’d been a hard day for both of them.
•^*^••
They’d managed to exchange names… sort of. The alien’s name was two notes, whistled lower than Logan was capable of, and likewise there was no way of the alien being able to pronounce the word Logan.
But the alien made a deep, almost resonant sound, that was as close as it seemed they could get to anything involving vocal cords. And that was their version of Logan.
Logan considered the two note sound, and came up with a slightly similar-sounding name. Virgil.
Neither of their names for each other were really very similar to their actual names, but they were able to understand each other, and that was what mattered.
As it turned out, Virgil was stronger than he was at pushing things, or hitting, but they couldn’t pull with any strength.
Logan was focusing his attention on the door, and had been so far unsuccessful in prying it open. It was solidly locked, and the lock seemed to only be on the other side of the door. Which likely meant that this room was detachable from the rest of the ship, in case of emergency or danger.
“Virgil.” Logan said, and Virgil turned to look at him from the patch on the wall they’d been inspecting.
Logan hit the door with his palm, his arm straight, in an imitation of the way he’d seen Virgil hit some of the patches, trying to break them. “Hit here.” He pointed at Virgil, and then at a spot where he suspected the lock was.
Virgil made a chittering sound and shambled over.
Logan again mimicked the strike, and then pointed at Virgil.
Virgil got into position. They were able to balance on three legs and rock their whole body weight forward to strike that small point their arm hit with all their strength and weight together.
They tried three times, but the door held firm.
Logan was impressed that they did not seem hurt by the attempt. Their exoskeleton must be very strong indeed. Which was possibly a part of why they were considered a deathworlder.
Logan wondered what their home planet was like.
The door suddenly opened, an alien clearly holding up one of the remotes to the teleporters.
Virgil backed away, turning and running to the other end of the room.
The alien spoke into a small microphone, which translated. “I brought food. Don’t come near me.”
The alien’s body looked almost bear-like, but with longer legs, clearly bipedal. They were only about half the size of a bear though. The fur also was shorter and sparser, and a very reddish kind of brown. The hands looked more useful than a bear’s paws as well. The head though was very unlike a bear’s. Logan didn’t know what to compare it to.
The alien was wearing clothes, which Logan had learned was entirely optional to most aliens, in bright reds and goldish yellows.
Perhaps this meant that this particular alien was more… Logan hesitated to say civilized. He scarcely knew anything about aliens, and could hardly make such judgements about them. Still, he believed he had a bit more chance reasoning with this one.
“Let us out of here,” he said, grateful that the translator picked it up and interpreted it.
“No.”
“We will leave you alone, we will not harm the ship. Let us go,” Logan said calmly but firmly.
The alien again said no, pushing in a tray of what could be food into the room with their foot, already starting to close the door.
“Wait!” Logan said, stepping forward.
The alien jumped, and pushed the button on the remote.
It didn’t seem to affect Logan, but instead Virgil was teleported close to the door. Virgil stumbled, falling against the wall and letting out what could only be described as a scream.
The alien who had delivered food looked even more scared now, and quickly shut the door. Logan pushed through his shock and alarm to try to open the door before it could be locked, but he was too late.
Virgil slumped to the ground, scream fading to a whistling wheeze.
As bad as the teleportation felt to him, Logan was scared that Virgil was being injured by it. Perhaps on the inside, where they were softer. Or perhaps it put too much strain on their rigid exoskeleton.
Was there anything he could do? He didn’t have any idea about what Virgil could need for medical care, and he didn’t want an attempt at comfort to be construed as an attack, especially while Virgil was vulnerable.
He knelt close to Virgil, a bit farther than an arm's length.
“Virgil?”
Virgil’s eyes opened, and from this close Logan could see the differentiation between pupil and iris. Virgil’s eyes were moving back and forth, like Logan had seen before in children who’d been spun in circles. He was likely still extremely disoriented then.
Virgil lifted one arm and waved it around slowly. It knocked into Logan’s shoulder lightly, and Virgil kept tapping it against his shoulders and head. Logan allowed it without complaint, guessing that it was grounding to Virgil, being able to verify that Logan was in one place and not moving, not spinning.
Virgil gradually steadied, taking their arm back.
Logan wished he had a way to ask ‘are you ok?’, but he didn’t. The best he had was, “Virgil?”
The whistle-clack he got in return seemed more positive than negative, though he had no way of accurately judging alien tones.
“Logan.”
Logan nodded, as it seemed the correct response.
Virgil pointed towards the nearly-forgotten tray, and Logan went to get it. Virgil struggled to their feet, looking something like a very large baby deer first trying to stand. If Logan had to guess, Virgil’s kind didn’t frequently sit or lie down.
The tray had a number of small round roll-like things that Logan was now accustomed to seeing. They were similar to banana bread in texture, but the taste was salty and rather bitter. When he’d asked, he’d been told that they were the standard in rations as they kept for a long time, and held an array of nutrients that was sufficient for the basic needs of a majority of species.
He suspected that he would require some greens or fruit if he continued eating these primarily, but he hadn’t seen any anywhere, only these.
Virgil stood over him and leaned down as much as they seemed easily capable of, which still left their head several feet above the ground. Logan was just wondering if they would need assistance to eat when a very long tongue, or perhaps proboscis, unrolled from their mouth and curled around one of the rolls, pulling it up into their mouth.
“What do you eat natively?” Logan wondered aloud. “And do you need water?”
There was a pitcher of water and two small cups. Logan poured one cup full and held it out to Virgil.
Virgil seemed to still be chewing, however, and incapable of drinking while doing so. Or perhaps they didn’t require water. Though, now that Logan was watching, he didn’t believe they were chewing at all. Certainly there was no jaw movement. They could be massaging the food with their tongue, and have particularly effective saliva perhaps.
Logan started eating a roll, setting Virgil’s cup down and filling the other for himself.
A minute later Virgil’s tongue unrolled again and drained the cup, seemingly effective as a massive straw.
“You really are fascinating,” Logan said softly. “Were we not in such a situation I would love to learn more about you.”
Virgil responded with a series of clicks and whistles.
“As it is though, we probably ought to attempt an escape. They haven’t tried to get anything from us, which makes me think they intend on trafficking us further. Most likely they don’t have the power to force us into work like the last ship did, so I think, despite the danger, that this will be our best chance. Of course, the danger is greater for you, the teleportation seems to hurt you much more than it does me.” Logan thought for a while. “I think our best bet would be to try forcing our way out the door the next time it opens. Perhaps one of us could knock the remote away. It is enlightening to know that the remote only works on one of us at a time.”
Logan sighed. “Of course we don’t know when or if they’ll enter again. It’s possible we’ll be held here until we reach wherever we’re going.”
Virgil made a low, soft whistle.
Logan laid on his back. “I can’t even properly ask you for your partnership. It’s infuriating to not be able to succeed at anything I attempt. There’s such a wealth of knowledge that is necessary, and I have no idea of any of it. Nor a way of learning, save through painful experience. I can’t become complacent, I have to effect change, but I never know when my efforts will be simply overturned.”
Virgil nudged his arm with their own.
Logan turned to look at them. Virgil chittered at him, bobbing up and down on their legs.
“What is it?”
“Logan.” Virgil said, still bobbing up and down.
Logan sat up. “I don’t understand.”
Virgil tapped his legs with their arm. “Logan.”
Logan stood up. “Is this what you want? Oh. If you don’t lay down to sleep, you must’ve been concerned when I did. I’ll have to sleep sometime though, and surely you’ve been exposed to aliens that lay down to sleep.”
But rather than relaxing, as Logan would assume Virgil would do if they were concerned, Virgil stepped closer, almost over Logan. Their antenna tilted towards him.
“Oh I see, this would be how you would confirm that I’m healthy, by feeling with your antenna, yes?” Logan remained still, unsurprised when there was a soft touch on his head.
But he was not at all expecting the sudden mental image of himself tackling the alien who’d delivered the food. It was so vivid it was as if he was already doing it, seeing the door open, tackling the alien, smashing the remote, and running forward to climb onto Virgil’s back as Virgil ran them both through the hallway.
Logan jerked back, falling on his butt. “What was that?! You have telepathy??”
Virgil made a movement that could be best described as a shrug.
Logan stood up again, reaching his hand out, battling his speed from excitement in an attempt not to scare Virgil. “Can we do it again?”
Virgil brushed his hand with their antenna, and the same scene flashed before his mind’s eye.
“Yes, yes I’ll do that! Can you understand my answer?”
Virgil made a whistle that Logan was almost certain was affirmative.
Logan paced back and forth excitedly, thinking out loud. “So you can communicate with me even if I can’t communicate with you well. And you very much want my partnership in escaping. We have a plan now. And a form of communication. Virgil, this is amazing!”
Virgil made an almost trilling noise.
•^*^••
“No, it hurt the Scraascik,” Roman said, already changing the ship’s course. “We can’t hold them safely, we have to get to the Embassy.”
“We didn’t even ask them to join us yet!” Remus protested.
“Would you join a strange crew after they hurt you?” Roman retorted, sending a message to the engine room to increase speed.
“Well what about the other one?”
“Remus. It won’t work.” Roman glared at him. “I don’t want to take chances with deathworlders.”
Remus sighed. “Fine. But let me try talking to them before we get there.”
Roman’s face went hard. “You have until we arrive,” he finally conceded.
Remus hurried down to the cargo bay.
He burst the door open, and it slammed shut behind him. Both deathworlders jolted, staring at him.
He then realized that he’d entirely forgotten the remote and the duplicate, and also that he was locked in a room with two deathworlders.
Well, there was a reason people joked he was addicted to adrenaline.
“Hello!” He said, waving. “I’m wondering if you’ll join my crew.”
The human moved first, standing up to a height decently taller than Remus was. And the Scraascik was even larger.
Perhaps he really was in serious danger.
“We just want to leave,” the human said, sounding rather threatening.
Probably telling them about the plan to hand them over to the Embassy then wasn’t a good idea until he was sure that he wasn’t in attack distance anymore. “You can, leave with us. Join our crew and you can adventure with us, raid ships, explore planets!”
“We want to leave alone,” the human said firmly.
“We? So… you bonded then? I guess that rumor is true, deathworlders all really do bond super fast.”
The human bared its teeth at him. “I will not be bonding to your crew based on your desires. I will not remain here, I want to leave. We want to leave.”
The Scraascik agreed in some of the most heavily accented Common Remus had ever heard. No wonder the translators hadn’t picked up any of his yelling when they’d boarded the ship. He’d probably need a translator to touch his antenna, but good luck getting a Scraascik to let anything touch their antenna.
“So you won’t even consider it?” Remus asked, not yet daunted.
“You’ve essentially kidnapped us, and both can and have hurt us! Why would I consider it?”
Yikes, the human sounded angry.
“Well we didn’t mean to hurt you, really, it’s not meant to be that bad. And we only kidnapped you from other kidnappers, and also I can’t hurt you cause I forgot the remote.”
The two deathworlders looked at each other, and Remus knew he really had gone and shoved his whole fist in his mouth. The human shifted position to a much more threatening crouch, as if it was going to pounce on him.
Remus held his arms out, claws at the ready. He might not have a hope of winning against deathworlders, but he could certainly make himself a pain of a target.
“I know I’m a pirate, but this was supposed to be just a talk,” Remus said, wondering if he’d be able to hit the communicator in time and if rescue was possible. Violent deathworlders in an enclosed space was not something he wanted his crew walking into, even for a rescue.
“It’s not much of a talk when we don’t have a say,” the human said, looking more and more threatening every second.
Iaoth , he wanted this human on his crew.
“Of course you have a say!” Remus said. “Name it, what position do you want, what pay, days off, I’ll give you whatever room in the ship you want as your quarters.”
“I fundamentally disagree with joining people that would knowingly traffic other people,” the human growled.
And then it leapt forward.
Remus yelped, swiping at the human and hitting the communicator with his other hand. “Roman!”
He was tackled to the ground, and the Scraascik pinned one arm while the human sat on his middle and held his other arm down.
“Remus?!” Roman’s voice came through the communicator.
“Let us go,” the human growled. “Once we’re out we’ll let them go.”
There was a tremor to the floor that Remus recognized. Roman must have been overloading the engine, they’d arrived and were docking.
“Is Remus ok?” Roman asked, sounding terrified.
“I’m fine, just a little stuck,” Remus said, trying to not sound scared so Roman wouldn’t get even more worried. “Laying under a deathworlder~ not quite as fun as I always imagined.”
Roman made a sound somewhere between a sob and laugh. “I’m coming to let you out. Don’t hurt him. Please.”
Remus was honestly a bit surprised that he was only pinned. The human was leaking blood from its shoulder and across its chest where Remus’s swipe had connected, but it hadn’t retaliated.
“Hurry,” the human said coldly.
The communicator turned off, and Remus had a strong suspicion Roman was calling the Embassy to have guards outside the ship when the cargo hold was opened.
“You sure you don’t want to join us?” Remus asked. “I know it won’t look like it from your end, but we don’t traffic, we take from ships we attack, but we’d either let them join us or take them to the authorities, we don’t just continue the traffic. And we could use people like you, you could help us take down so many more ships.”
The Scraascik leaned harder on his arm, and Remus grimaced.
“What would the authorities do?” The human asked.
“Uhhhh… well with the Scraascik, probably drop him back on his own planet, or with a Scraascik colony. Your planet though is still restricted, so they’d probably keep you until it’s opened.”
The human’s face contorted into something that did not look good for Remus.
“We’re on our way there, aren’t we?”
Remus wasn’t sure he dared lie, not when he was pinned to the ground with two very angry-seeming deathworlders over him. “Yeah.”
The human hit the communicator. “Listen.”
“I’m listening,” Roman said warily.
“Don’t open the cargo hold,” the human ordered. “You’re a pirate ship. You have smaller ships for scavenging, yes?”
“…yes.”
“Give us one.”
There was a long pause from Roman.
“Put food and fuel and translators in it,” the human said firmly. “We’re taking this one with us until we’re safely inside.”
This was probably wrecking Roman’s plans. There would be authorities involved and now no deathworlders to give them.
“Alright,” Roman said.
•^*^••
The door to the cargo hold was opened. Logan had the bear-alien in a tight hold, and Virgil was above them, looking like they were ready to strike out at anything that got within range.
They managed to walk along the halls until they reached the smaller ship. Logan had no idea how he was going to fly it, but it was the biggest chance by far that he’d had yet.
He shoved the bear alien away and slammed the door shut.
Virgil went immediately to the pilot’s seat, and Logan was amazed to see that there were places in the ceiling that fit their antenna. Soon there was a fast and loud humming, and the tiny ship lurched into motion.
•^*^••
Patton was being sent, since they didn’t really believe that there could be a Human and a Scraascik on the cobbled-together ship that had docked. So it was just him and Janus.
Janus wrapped his long tail around the back of Patton’s neck for balance as Patton walked back and forth, waiting for the ship to open its cargo bay.
It sure was taking a long time. They’d seemed so rushed when they called, but now they just wouldn’t open.
And then there was an engine powering up.
A teeny little scavenging ship took off from the bigger one, flying off. Patton scanned it, alarmed to see that there was indeed a Scraascik and a Human signature on board.
“Hey! Hey wait!”
He pulled out his radio, quickly setting it to the bigger ship’s frequency. “Let me in and go after them! We can’t let a Human go flying around unattended!”
“If they don’t let us in fast, go take the SC Meteor,” Janus said.
Patton wasn’t too surprised when the ship started undocking without answering him.
“We’ll get them!” He yelled, running for the Meteor.
