I decided to write a little piece surrounding this lovely art! By @kikker-oma
💬 8 🔁 139 ❤️ 735 · Happy birthday dear sweet @adrift-in-thyme !!!!
🎉🎉🎉
I hope today is absolutely wonderful and lovely and so full of lo
Twilight was beginning to suspect that he’d been lied to, tricked, and possibly even bamboozled. He’d been so worried when he came down that embankment and saw Warriors sprawled out on the dirt that he’d assumed something must have gone horribly wrong. So when he’d asked Warrior’s what hurt and Warrior’s hand had gone to his back, Twilight had been quick to help lift the captain onto his own back, sure in his own strength to carry him back to the others who he hoped were still nearby since the monster camp’s … rather enthusiastic explosion had required a swift retreat.
He grunted a little as he readjusted Warriors’s weight on his back, holding back a lupine huff at the breathy giggle that sounded in his ear. At least his passenger at the moment didn’t feel that kicking his side was good ‘motivation’ for being slow. Warriors’s scarf caught on yet another branch, and Twilight felt a deep ache begin to bloom in his back as he stood and waited for
Warriors’s hands to untangle the length of cloth.
Warriors had the sense to at least tuck the thing between Twilight’s pelt and his front this time, in an attempt to keep it from snagging anything else. But after the first few steps once this was done Twilight could already feel it sliding out of place and sighed, resigning himself to a very long walk.
He’d managed to crest the next hill before the words he’d been holding behind clenched teeth managed to slip out.
“You certain your back is actually hurtin’ you that badly?” He had to stumble awkwardly over a stray branch his foot landed on and was wishing Warriors would offer to take his own weight at this point with no other heroes in sight.
“Oh yeah! It hurts soooo much. Woe is me.” The last addition nearly snickered under his breath sounded distinctly like Warriors was quoting someone. Who that someone might be Twilight no longer had the energy to spare.
“I should drop you.” Twilight would always have the energy to spare for a tease like that though.
Warriors went quiet at that. Then after a moment, a thanks so quiet he hardly heard it even with the captain’s face next to his ear sounded, and Twilight felt that he could carry Warriors for a little longer at least.
Still though, he thought with a bittersweet longing, he never thought he’d be wishing to carry something on his back as a Wolf, which was a lot easier to do than clutch Warriors to his back with both arms, leaving him feeling tired and awfully vulnerable as they were.
it’s not december yet but i’m feeling a little festive :)
how do nightmare and his boys celebrate giftmas?
Turned this into an excuse to make a very long post about Giftmas and Nightmare's incredibly specific holiday traditions. Plus a heavy amount of lore about Nightmare + Killer's bond, Cross' background, and Dust and Horror's relationship.
As a child, Nightmare did not celebrate any holidays at all. Sure, he was aware of them from his novels... and he could plainly see Dream being invited to parades and harvest festivals and other such events. But the villagers had a profound belief that his presence would bring negative feelings and refused to extend invites for Nightmare to attend any events meant to be joyful.
Then the apple incident happened, and Nightmare spent centuries alone.
When Killer joined him, it took many years before they grow close enough to celebrate. Nightmare hardly knew how to interact with other living creatures, and spent most of his time 'with' Killer watching him or otherwise creeping around the castle. Killer, finally free from the endless cycles and eventual solitude in his AU, slowly began to come alive; however, he still fell into bad habits of viewing himself as nothing more than a tool and being far too comfortable with a general lack of atonomy.
The longer they spent together, the more attached they became, though Nightmare didn't recognize it as affection until Killer fell so ill he nearly fell down. Nightmare hadn't loved anyone for centuries. Hadn't worried for anyone. His immense fear for Killer, combined with the internal shock of realizing he cares for him, sent Nightmare into an intense panic in an attempt to keep Killer alive.
When Killer woke, he was in what had previously been a reading room connected to Nightmare's herbal and medical storage, surrounded by vines and nestled in a bed shaped from wisteria, the flowers providing a curtain around it.
After that incident, the two were near inseperable.
It was the very next Giftmas when Killer decided to finally introduce Giftmas to Nightmare. He set up decorations, planned gifts, and strung lights around the many trees Nightmare had growing inside the castle.
Nightmare vaguely knew about Giftmas from some of his novels, but he found little interest in holiday-themed books and hadn't touched one in years. So when he left the library to find Killer decorating all the trees, Nightmare was fully convinced Killer had added this aspect to his holiday specifically to please him.
He quite liked it though... the lights, and the music, and the exorborant amount of food... and the little gifts Killer brought him... and spending the evening curled up together watching ridiculously positive films...
After that first year, every Giftmas in Nightmare's realm has been celebrated in the winter villa he had built within the woods by the sea. The building is rather immense, and houses a large central pine grown specifically for the purpose of Giftmas decoration. Most rooms have a cozy fireplace, the kitchen is set with an old wood fire oven, and there are plenty of spaces for games, movie-watching, and laying about together.
Killer is the presents guy. Nothing is more fun to him than finding as many gifts as possible to give everyone in the family. On top of that, he's obsessed with finding all sorts of new and weird decor for the villa. He also uses his carpentry skills to build one of those miniture christmas villages for the central living room, along with a host of winter themed furniture.
On the actual day, Killer doesn't really care if he receives many gifts for himself. He mainly wants to spend the day curled up with the others, watching the model trainset whirr around the miniture village as a giftmas film plays in the background. It's being with the others, feeling emotions he'd once thought long lost to him, that makes Killer's soul feel full.
Horror loves baking and cooking as a family, even if it is utter chaos. Everyone's emotions of being together... it makes everything taste much better. Killer is strictly kept on 'passing shit around' duty because he is NOT allowed near an oven. Which is fine until he gets bored and starts egging Dust or Cross on. More than once Nightmare's had to pick Killer up and hold him until they're done.
Horror's rather fond of the little details of Giftmas. Growing large poinsettias to place around the villa, helping Dust hang wreaths from the chandeliers, sifting through the library with Nightmare to pick something out to read together while the turkey's on. He's not really picky about how anything goes or looks, though. It's creating something that brings joy to the others he enjoys.
Dust loves the villa. It's small, cozy, and has an endless number of perfect places to nap. And for once, everyone wants to lay around doing nothing. Celebrating Giftmas again after so long alone... it meant a lot. It meant more when Horror pulled him into the kitchen that first year, teaching him the inns and outs of home made stuffing and honey glazed vegetables and stacks of popcorn coated in chocolate to be shaped into little wreaths. And that moment when Horror sat him on the counter and leaned in, brushing their cheeks together in a way that toed the line between familial and romantic...
Yes... Dust really enjoys Giftmas.
Dust uses his shortcutting and telekenesis to help hang decorations in absurd places. And maybe to cheat during board games once or twice. Only to make Killer lose, he swears!
Despite everything, Dust often thinks about the Angel during Giftmas. Sure, he knows the creators are out there making their lives hell, and so the Angel probably doesn't exist in most universes... but the idea of a being just for monsters... a being that doesn't want to manipulate them for their own entertainment... he quietly clings to it. Killer made him a wooden angel one year to put on the mantle in his and Horror's room at the villa. It's one of his most cherished possessions, after his scarf, his moon pin, and his ring.
Cross never had giftmas in his AU. Giftmas is a part of monster culture, which XGaster kept at the bare minimum. And since human religions weren't recreated in Xtale, there were no human holidays to enjoy either. The most they had in terms of celebrations were birthdays and a few festivals the royals hosted.
So when his first December at the castle rolls around and everyone is talking about how they're going to the villa soon for Giftmas, Cross was in a complete panic. Everyone seemed so certain about what they were doing... packing up chariots full of flowers and supplies and wrapped gifts as if it were someone's birthday. But Cross had no idea who they were supposed to be getting gifts for, or how he was supposed to help....
And he felt stupid for it.
It wasn't the first time he'd failed to understand something the others spoke of. The concept of the angel... nuzzling each other... And Cross hated the way Killer had cackled when Cross startled at Killer's purring during movie night for the first time.
So he stayed quiet. He helped pack the carriages when asked, slipped between rooms like a ghost.
As soon as they arrived at the villa, Cross practically locked himself inside the room he was given. Because this obviously wasn't a birthday, this was IMPORTANT and he was completely failing at it. He'd finally begun to warm up to everyone—even Killer after months of trying not to talk to him—and now he was going to pull some huge monster faux pas and ruin it all.
Horror was the one to finally approach him. He came into his room with a platter of shortbread cookies and one of the gifts he'd bought for Cross. At first, he assumed it was a matter of Cross missing his family. But when he looked at his eyelights, it occured to him that Cross... had no idea what any of this was.
After plenty of reassurance that he hadn't fucked anything up, and that Nightmare could take them somewhere to get gifts last minute, Horror coaxed Cross out of his room and took him to do some baking together. If no one had ever bothered to show Cross what a loving household was supposed to look like... then they'd just have to do that for him.
Cross has been fond of Giftmas every year since. He's biggest on baking and movie watching (definitely not because he likes the excuse to cuddle together). Getting gifts also feels particularly emotional after having lost everything in his AU. Cross tries to think of nice things to get the others, but often he leans towards handmade items. He's hoping to weave some blankets this year.
Error typically does not participate in Giftmas, but he has joined in some of the celebrations over the years. Most often he'll appear in the days leading up to Giftmas to drop off gifts—primarily for Nightmare. But he doesn't mind staying for Giftmas dinner or watching films. So long as no one is noisy or demands he join in the cuddle pile.
Error does like how every Giftmas is nearly the same. Similar books, similar playfighting, similar films. But he's not really part of Nightmare's family, so he prefers to keep to himself most years.
In the last 5 years, Error hasn't shown up at the castle once.
While the others don't particularly care about the details of Giftmas, Nightmare absolutely does. They WILL go to the winter villa. There WILL be star and moon themed decorations on the tree. They will bake and watch movies and read books and cuddle beside the fire because it is pleasant and a tradition now, and as a royal family they should have traditions together.
Over the years, Nightmare's worked hard with Killer to make the villa the perfect space of comfort and Giftmas vibes. He especially enjoys collecting board games to play together, and he rather likes old black and white Giftmas films. Lots of flowers and lights are an absolute must for Nightmare during Giftmas, and he likes to put little decorated saplings in everyone's rooms in addition to the main tree.
Ultimately, Nightmare uses it as a yearly excuse to spoil the boys and then pretend its all for the sake of 'tradition' and not because he loves them to pieces.
a Dukexiety Giftmas fic for @the-duke-of-nuts ! 💜💚
Summary: Some curses get tied to a person's soul. That wasn't even Remus's fault, though.
An entity inside of Remus wants to use him as a vessel to return magic to the natural world, at the cost of people's lives. It's a good thing there's still someone out there who isn't going to let him go without a fight.
WC: 5.6k || It’s on AO3!
Beta read by Ghostie! :D thank youu
@sanderssidesgiftxchange
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I’ll find you, I swear. Just wait for me.
Remus stumbled his way up the barren, jagged slopes for cover. The coarse black dirt and finer dust under his boots smelled strongly of hot iron and sulfur. In the distance, he could see many mounds lower than the one he was on smoldering against the purple haze that kept him from seeing very far.
This place was as familiar to him as home. Not nearly as pleasant..also not by much.
The whole land looked like it had burned– little life remained in it except the poor souls trapped here. Just like him. Though none of them were interested in alliance with an all but condemned, cursed tiefling, and at this point? Remus wasn’t interested in them either. He had the help he needed already.
He ended up having to crawl as his traction failed. The hill was steeper the higher he climbed and he sunk half a foot in with every step. He did not need a fall with all the fallen needle-like obsidian pillars surrounding him. Though brittle, he knew for a fact they were sharp enough to make a good temporary weapon that’d run someone made of flesh through. It had saved him in deadly encounters of desperation before.
He stubbornly pushed and dragged himself to the ring of obsidian cover at the top. He knelt in relief before gathering some of the dust in his palms and focused on it. It sparked, and a virid flame burst to life. He gritted his teeth at the migraine that flared up angrily to stop him and quickly set it down on the ground. He blew the immediately wilting fire carefully to keep it going in the thick air.
That was that done. He would make his last stand here, too tired to fight his way out like he had every other night for the majority of his life. He had no intention of ever coming back down. He’d be waiting up here, even if it felt pointless. But he’d promised he would. That wasn’t something he took lightly, but if he was gone before they showed up anyway, it wasn’t for being a damn cop-out.
Please, just stay awake as long as you can. I’ll be there, Re.
It wasn’t that he didn’t believe them, or he wouldn’t have bothered getting this far. No…Remus just didn’t expect that they’d find him by the time they arrived.
He didn’t actually think he’d be getting out of this prison realm anymore. His own cursed pseudo-magic would be the end of him.
…
Remus could see why people assumed that the ability to do magic would make life better. Had circumstances for his family been different, he knew he would have thought the same and envied those with the power.
Sorcerers that tamed and honed their chosen style of magic had a leg up in society.
Unlike wizards, who went to fancy old temples and worked shitty upkeep jobs for the privilege of memorizing verbal summon spells in dead languages, sorcerers had an innate connection to the world’s magic. Wizards had to make use of their limited discipline they had the most affinity for– a gamble based on your ancestors and where you were born and probably even what tea your mom was hooked on while she was pregnant. It was painfully calculated and slow to prevent the temporarily harnessed magic from turning on the caster. For their effort, they had access to a much broader use for magic, which came with the precision. They weren’t restricted to only what was naturally available.
Sorcerers, meanwhile, if they were connected and persuasive enough, could call on just about any force of nature to do their bidding. If the natural world accepted and liked you, it was like a magic cheat code that could make a person quite powerful on pure luck.
…the problem with being connected to nature, though, was the unforeseen ability for it to corrupt you back.
Its intrinsic influence was incredibly subtle, and the exchange for allowing you to wield it could be steep if you were not careful.
Sorcery was far less predictable and much more volatile; you were at the mercy of how it wanted to interpret your request. You were just its clueless conduit, and you’d better hope what you reached out to was benevolent or, at least, liked you.
While a person with no inherent magic could ‘borrow’ from spirits that existed in every living thing, it was not to be mistaken that you were its master. Only fools would be arrogant enough to boast that they’d tamed anything as close to true anarchy as wild magic. You would not be forgiven for that mistake even once.
A particularly nerdy wizard might relate it to trophic levels of an ecosystem: the most pure and potent magic was found within the plants and soil and rock of their world. So by the time it got to People, you’d be pressed to find a half-decent healer for a papercut in the same town as you. Not to say that magic was a particularly rare skill…most people just did not bother with the effort it took to do it right. The “right” way being through careful study and sucking at it for decades of your life.
Remus’s family…his parents, thought they could get around it. They harnessed the magic of nature with the misguidance of a shady soothsayer. He wasn’t given a choice.
He and Roman were born with strong magic abilities not seen in humans, and rarely in tieflings, of which they had some heritage.
Two children who could bend nature and perform “miracles” before they even knew what the word meant. They’d learned quickly enough. And they’d naturally been skilled at commanding it. It’s what they were told they were born to do. They were “chosen”.
It was a curse.
He and Roman had each been condemned when their parents tried to tie them to natural magic for the power they’d wield. But they’d tied their souls to the kind of spirits who loathe what humans do with their magic, and it became very clear when they got older and the “good” years were fast over.
They were only 8 when the headaches started.
Roman had just casted their usual rain spell and then collapsed in pain. Remus found the same result shortly after. Then the nightmares that brought them to this purgatory close to hell, between the living plane and the dead. A plane that would happily have them transition permanently if they let it keep them too long.
They’d been terrified, only having each other until they managed to wake up, black tears falling from their eyes. That’s how they found out, in the hours they’d been trapped, about the consequences. The lives that had been taken while they were pulled under by exhaustion.
They were locked away in sleep. The entities broke free of every binding.
They were taken far out of the town and away from most people they could reach…that had stemmed the carnage, but only just.
They were separated to try and weaken the influences feeding off of each other, but the twins fared much worse apart, both awake and asleep. It was decidedly the worst solution, when they were all each other had then.
And staying awake to prolong the inevitable only meant they’d be more tired when they got to the new plane, making escape all the harder.
They had more or less been possessed by something that could not be reasoned with. It wasn’t a person or even creature-- just a planted entity that’s only goal was to return “stolen” magic to nature. It took some poor stooges it possessed for a joyride and killed other souls that contained enough to be worth the struggle.
Remus was the only one still in the passenger seat, his body off committing mass atrocities while the ‘real’, conscious him was sub-conscious. His twin had found a sweet escape that Remus had to figure out on his own…a fiancé. Remus wasn’t sure if love really had much to do with it, or if it was some combination of Roman tripping and landing the most nerdy, obnoxiously obsessed wizard they’d ever met. He was pedantically methodical, and it just so happened their curse crossed right into the hairs of his hyperfixation. And determined Logan had been, at first from pure academic interest at solving a problem no wizard had yet. And then…something more, as Roman and him hit it off to the surprise of even them.
And somewhere between the drive to save someone he loved and maybe the determination it spurred, Roman had been freed of the curse after 12 years.
It wasn’t that Roman hadn’t tried to make it work for Remus too– the spirits just hadn’t let him slide by so easily on his brother’s cape trail. He hadn’t expected as much, anyway, and he couldn’t blame Logan for something Remus clearly was the twin lacking. It was lightning in a bottle.
Remus’d had a good run, and made it to 25 years old by some series of freak accidents and luck. No fucking thanks to their alleged parents, either, prepared to cut their losses. Their hermeticistic uncle was the only reason they survived to adulthood at all.
No one could say Remus hadn’t tried after that. But no amount of intervention from hired masters of Wizardry could unbind them.
And hey, maybe that was for the better? The last remaining people who gave a shit about him– and he could count them on what was left of his cracked horn spikes– wouldn’t have to worry if he was alive or dead anymore…because they’d have that permanent answer and could just move on already.
They could stop stressing him out by chasing after him, futilely trying to save him with their latest new solution that never worked when he just wanted them to stay away. Couldn’t he just do this one thing? He didn’t want to wake up one day and find out he— the parasite killed them.
He’d rather be dead than dealing with the shitty contagion part of his curse, but he had always been from a family of stubborn-ass tryhards.
On top of that, Remus wasn’t a fan of losing and he wasn’t going to give his sperm-donor the satisfaction of being right.
And his body was his to fuck up, not some vindictive little parasite’s.
No, if Remus died, it would unfortunately have to be circumstantial and fitting in dramatic irony to the life he lived…and not because he just gave up. He just didn’t find (in time) what his brother had found…even if he hadn’t continued alone in true isolation for long.
As the darkness pressed in at the edge of his vision, Remus grinned and resisted anyway, because he sure as hell wasn’t going quietly.
And he swore if nothing else, he’d end it here before it ever hurt the last person still trying and able to save him. He wouldn’t continue being a puppet for others.
—-
Virgil walked quickly through the darkening middle plane, using his wicker staff as a walking stick to keep moving. The staff’s trapped lightning and the raven feathers he wore in his hair and off his belt would keep any influences away from curiously trying him, which while they were only small annoyances, they would slow him down. The sky never truly was night here, but the conditions of the darker plane only got more harsh the ”later” it became. The wind that was picking up would make it entirely impossible to find Remus in the dust storm, and Remus needed him, now.
The entity was pushing to take Remus’s body for good this time, and wouldn’t let him be conscious in their world ever again. But they could still stop it…he thought. Desperately hoped. It had to work this time, or he’d lose him forever…not after they’d tried so hard for this long. He refused for this to be how it ended.
The sorcerer saw the green fire and its white smoke and picked up the pace. He hated how hard he had to try to not draw attention to his presence…he wanted to fly and get there now. He might anyway, once he was sure he’d get up there before any Hostile could cut him off.
He flew the last stretch to the top of the hill in seconds. His webbed cape billowed out as he landed and went to Remus’s side. “Re? Eyes open if you can hear me.”
Virgil knew he sounded more stressed than he wanted to, but it worked– Remus squinted at him, not really reacting for a beat.
“Vee…heyy. You made it to…my funeral. Cool. I want to hear my sappy eulogy."
Virgil shook his head. “No. You will be free of this and keep living. Let me help you…I want you to survive this, Re.”
Virgil knelt down, moving slowly. He kept eye contact, making sure Remus did not close his own and more gently than anyone had in a long time, he cupped his face, running his thumbs over Remus’s rough jawline. He pulled Remus to him protectively.
Remus allowed his face to rest against Virgil’s cool palms, and the sorcerer placed his forehead against his.
“Mm. Not much point in that, after being a terror to the land for over a decade.”
“Please…you’re good, Re. That isn’t something I say lightly.”
Remus scoffed weakly, turning his head even as it stayed pressed to Virgil’s. “I don’t care about if anyone thinks I’m ‘good’ or not. People are so ready to say someone like me deserves this curse just because of the shit my family did.”
Virgil frowned. “Those people don’t know you. You and Ro had nothing to do with their choices before you were even born.”
“Good luck telling the towns that. There are people still dead now that they mourn. Because I couldn’t keep control of my vessel.”
“That wasn’t you. You’ve been possessed, Re, you couldn’t just not sleep. A-And it’s no different from Roman, he and Lo found a new place to settle down and start fresh. They–”
“Oh, good to hear they’ve finally taken a hint. Only took them 4…5 years? They held out longer than I–”
“They’re worried about you. And you need to help me and be just as worried, because they’re with you out there now, buying me time by distracting the body-snatcher.”
Remus tried to sit up, but Virgil easily stopped him.
“What. Those insane fucking–”
“Yeah, this’s how it feels to have a family hell-bent on caring for you. What did you expect? Not like I didn’t try to run them off, but those two are somehow reinforcing each other’s stubbornness when together. Match made in a fucking forge. They’re not going away just because you told them off, so help me save you and them by letting me kill this thing once and for all!”
Remus frowned, running a hand roughly through his hair. Great. And what would happen to them if this didn’t work?
“What are you going to try that’s any different?”
“I’m going to use souldrain to isolate it and then shock it back to the aether. It’s… going to feel like I’m ripping your soul out.”
“Eh, pretty sure love is just like that sometimes.”
Virgil squinted. “…focus. And anyway, it won’t…hurt. But being separated from your vessel is gonna make you feel like you’re dying. You won’t be and you’ll have to fight the urge to struggle against me…it’ll just make it take longer and I don’t want to make you feel that any more than necessary.”
Virgil pulled up his sleeves, breathing out to try and be as clear of mind as possible.
“I’m going to bind your soul to mine long enough to kill it, then put you right back in your body. Simple. Oh… you’re also likely going to lose your magic…since it’s always been wrapped up with the…thing in your body.”
“Uh huh, got it. You’ll steal my soul, we become soulmates, the bastard in my head dies. Also never be able to go to boring monastery magic school, fine by me. Speaking of, have you gotten your certificate from mage school to perform this level of transplant on me? Where’s the scalpel?”
Virgil sighed, smirking tightly. Remus had to be delirious right now, but he had enough pity to humor his fellow tiefling. “Never went. They don’t exactly accept the morbid talents for curriculum and I wasn’t interested in the weather. Don’t worry, though, I’m naturally gifted in this kind of thing…putting the soul back is new, but how hard could it be? Now lay down.”
It was surely an improvement from a parasite crushing what made Remus him and killing everyone he knew from the contagion brewing in his lungs.
Virgil’s magic rumbled through Remus’s chest like a thunderstorm building inside him. His chest tingled with a growing static charge, anticipating a strike and it rocked through his heart. He swore it changed its beat to match the rattling in his ears and down his spine. He stayed grounded only from Virgil kneeling over him, pinning him to the cool, hard silt…maybe this would have been more enjoyable if he weren’t about to die.
“Don’t pull away. I have you,” Virgil’s voice reverberated in his skull even as Remus didn’t think he actually heard him speak. His mouth had moved, but the thunder and crackling purple light were quite distracting, sensorily. He was so focused on the light show dome building around him that he actually jumped when Virgil placed a hand on his face, glaring down at him. Remus wondered if he’d fucked up already, until he noticed his whole body was shaking.
“Fucking…let him go.”
Virgil put his other hand flat on Remus’s chest, and Remus would have made a comment about Virgil being so forward had the twisting motion of him making a fist not literally yanked the breath out of him.
Remus found he couldn’t move anymore, and something was latched onto the inside of him. And what was worse, it felt like something was very wrong about it being removed— as if Virgil were taking a part of his soul away. But he couldn’t hold onto it. He had to let it be taken from him. Virgil’s definition of pain must have been sorely misinformed. That felt like being crushed from the inside. His body thrashed involuntarily from the torment. Maybe it was better to stop. No more pain. No facing the people he’d been turned against…
“Sorry, I-I’m sorry– it’s not supposed to– just hang on to me. You don’t need it, Re. The magic…what that thing did. It’s not you. Trust me…y-you’ll still have a life without it…you’ll have your family– Ro and Janus and Logan too. Th-they’re worried about you…Ro regrets letting you leave alone. And you’ll have me. I’m not going anywhere. I see you. You won’t be alone again…not ever. Whatever that thing offered you o-or is putting in your head isn’t worth giving in to it! It’s lying to make you help it!! DON’T DO IT. Give it to me…! I swear I’m not leaving you here, you–you won’t just go back to that depressing little shack of a cabin. I won’t let you— I want to save you, but you have to let me.”
Virgil’s voice cracked from both the strain and fear of losing Remus now. “Please. Let me take you. It’s gonna be f-fine, you’ll be alright...”
‘I won’t let you go, Re!’
Remus forced his eyes to stay open as Roman, with the black tears in his eyes, reached out over Virgil’s shoulder. His voice echoed, overlapping with Virgil even though he knew it couldn’t be real. But it had been like this, 13 years ago. In a buried memory.
‘Don’t leave me…let us me save you.’
Remus stopped fighting the smoke in his lungs. It was hardly better than the sludge, but at least he could finally relax with no risk of a coughing fit unleashing a curse to those unfortunate enough to be nearest to him.
He fully gave himself over to Virgil’s magic, allowing it in to change him, and to fight the intruder with full trust that Virgil would not hurt him. He did not know where that came from…he just knew. A new fear of being electrified from the inside came unbidden. It was exciting knowing his life was in this man’s hands now. And he gave it up to them.
For a moment, an eternity, Remus suddenly didn’t feel exhausted or in any pain. He was just existing in some space, and it was incredibly peaceful. It almost lulled him to turn his mind off and just float there in the pleasant relief.
And then he was physically dropped back into being, with thoughts and a body that had been thoroughly abused and needed maintenance promptly.
“Re?? Remus, are you alright??”
“I…’m gonna lay down here now.”
The haze of orange blurred past him in slow motion and the singed peach fuzz on his neck ached as his soul tried to settle back into his body. Remus stared, shell-shocked, as Virgil’s form and the purple clouds around them in the purgatory plane flickered in his vision between bright splashes of blue magic against a softer blue sky over him. There were multiple faint, alarmed voices now that were too much to focus on any single one. His face hurt and his body felt like he’d gone diving in rocks, but that thankfully seemed to be the worst of it.
He had the passing thought that he felt dizzy, and his amazing, very hot sorcerer somehow read his mind.
Virgil lurched forward as Remus pitched hard to the side. He was disappointed that he didn’t get to see if Virgil caught him as he was out before he could tell.
——
Remus felt…warm. Not the same kind of warm that was finding himself outside in the sun when he woke up countless times before.
A soft but weighted sheet was over him, and his achy body— less pained than usual— was comfortably cradled.
Remus came to by a red-flame fire, under a boar-skin blanket. It was worrying. Had he died and gone to some good place as an apology for how shit his life had been? But then why did he still feel like shit? He was pretty sure the dead weren’t supposed to feel starving either unless that was the idea of the punishment.
He was used to waking up on the floor of some poor villager’s home or in a ditch. He never woke up in a bed…not outside of times Uncle Janus had found them collapsed somewhere and moved them back to their beds when the entity retreated.
In his confusion, he hadn’t really acknowledged there was a person combing their fingers through his hair…a little too easily. It had been hopelessly tangled last he checked, which was daily as he pulled the slick white mop of it back and around his horns. He’d thought about shaving it to eliminate the hassle.
But it felt lighter, free of the dirt that perpetually stuck to it when he gave up doing more than a rinse in the stream. He felt clean, which. No complaints from him. Just the questions of who and or how.
He realized then that he wasn’t home. He was somewhere with a lot of potted plants hanging draped overhead, and a dome skylight showed a soft grey sky and the patter of rain. They were close to the roof…a loft bed, maybe? …those were some fucking giant mushrooms growing out of the far wall. Something that wafted up around them smelled amazingly savory, too. He wanted whatever it was in his mouth immediately. His stomach chose to enthusiastically agree.
Virgil leaned over into his direct vision, peering into purple eyes that now matched his own. He looked relieved.
“Re?”
His voice was low and a familiar comfort. He wasn’t in that place anymore. He wasn’t even home.
“...Vi.”
Remus blinked sluggishly up at Virgil, who was the one holding him in this little wall nook. A little shiver ran through him and Virgil tugged the warm blanket up to Remus’s shoulders. He kinda just wanted to stay like this right now. It felt good and he wasn’t ready to be part of the world again yet.
Virgil smiled down at him, rubbing his thumb softly over Remus’s eyebrow in an adoring way. He had few interactions of anyone being soft with him. It usually didn’t last…but even once Virgil had seen him at his worst, he’d stayed. He’d been saved by this man.
“Hey. I hope you’re feeling better now?”
“...tir’d.”
“Ah, yeah, that…you crashed 2 days ago now. But you needed the sleep. It’s definitely too soon for you to be doing anything but resting.”
No arguments there. The air was comfortably cool around them, but he didn’t want to leave the blankets and this unreal bed for the foreseeable future. For all he was concerned, this was heaven. He leaned into Virgil’s hand against his face, hoping to encourage more of the hair petting.
Virgil obliged, chuckling weakly. “I’m…really glad you’re okay. Or-Or that you will be.”
There was no rush to recover after 17 years of bullshit he had to put up with. He nodded agreeably, eyes already heavy and sleep tugging at him. He had the knee-jerk reaction to resist long enough to isolate himself…but he no longer had to leave. He was curse– and magic– free, thanks to the unorthodox magic Virgil knew.
Remus was slow to process that Virgil was talking again, and clung to consciousness for a little longer.
“--was worried that…you might not…that-that I’d…”
Oh. Virgil was worrying. It took about all of Remus’s effort to drag his arm up to grab Virgil’s hand settled on his chest. He squeezed it with pitiful strength, but held Virgil’s gaze. “Saved me..’ll be fine. Rest.”
A shaky smile curled onto Virgil’s lips. He squeezed Remus’s hand back and brushed his bangs out of the way to press a kiss to his forehead. “...we’ll talk later, once you’ve caught up on sleep.”
“So in…17 years. Seems…excessive.”
Virgil looked exasperated, which was Remus’s goal– anything to change that sad expression like they’d failed and he had died. It was like Virgil still thought he’d somehow failed Remus, but Remus couldn’t puzzle out why.
Before he could begin speculating the worst, though, Virgil continued in that near-psychic way of reassuring he had. Remus was beginning to wonder if Virgil really did have a vague vibes read on his thoughts.
“Ro and Lo have stayed over the last 2 nights too. They’ll be glad to see you when you’re ready. My roommate is making lunch-slash-dinner for us. We don’t have to go down right now, though. You can stay up here and eat– We can take our time. And…maybe when you’re ready…we could talk about you staying, too. W-with us– me.”
Remus slowly grinned, even as his eyes fell shut without his permission. “Only…if we share ‘is bed. Remind me…kiss you later.”
While Virgil blushed, speechless, Remus hoped he’d get to say more soon. Maybe he’d be up in time to still get some of that food. He could get used to living like this.
----
Going outside and feeling the chilly winter air on his skin was sharply pleasant. He had finally graduated from being bedridden just in time for the first snow of the year. Patton and Logan had independently fussed at him to wear more than just a shirt and his sleeping shorts, so he’d added his mittens and some shoes.
Virgil followed him out with his hat and coat, though knew it would be a losing battle getting it on his boyfriend.
It felt strange, being outside and not feeling the tingle of magic reaching out through him to the forest around them. Asking him to do something, to reconnect it to its source. It was quiet, and he was just some tiefling guy wandering around in it. It was liberating, to be so ignored by everything around them and just able to exist. He’d never felt more a part of the world than he did now.
Remus raised his hand to command the snow to move to his whim, like second nature. It did nothing. He kicked a low pile of snow building up in the path and sent it splattering off across the icy pond. Virgil caught up to him and slid the wool hat onto his head, minding the horn holes.
“Wear your coat.”
“Don’t wanna, but I’ll gladly take that spider cloak off your hands if you wanna trade.”
Virgil sighed but surprised Remus when he actually took it off and tossed it around Remus’s shoulders. He adjusted it and clasped it over Remus’s broader shoulders.
“You’ve only just gotten out of bed arrest, do you want to go back because you get sick?”
Remus snickered fondly, knocking Virgil’s horns softly. “Aww, but then I have an excuse to lay around all day with you.”
“We can do that without you sneezing all over me t-too.”
Remus considered getting Virgil to put on his coat despite and especially because of it being oversized on his smaller frame. But it was easier to just pull him in against his chest and share the big cloak around them both. So that’s what he did, arms resting around Virgil’s shoulders. He let out a content sigh, his breath making a little cloud in the cold air.
Virgil wiggled sheepishly before settling back against him tentatively, happy to steal his warmth.
They just stood there for a while listening to the wind blowing through the trees and the leaves that still clung on to them. Snow was very slowly blanketing the yard of their little sanctuary. Remus really wanted to lay in it for the full experience.
“Re...sorry you lost your magic. I had hoped to find a way you could keep it, but…it was just so bound up to that thing and I ran out of time.”
“Eh, I don’t miss the magic. Wasn’t really mine, and I think I’ve had enough of being ‘one with nature’ my whole life. Nature’s ruthless. I mean, I can be too, but she’s cold.”
Remus cackled as Virgil elbowed him.
“Besides, now I have an excuse to bother you or Lo about what I want. Which is more snow.”
“Sorry, not that powerful.”
“Sure you are, have you tried? This place needs to look like a winter wonderland by noon.”
“I’m not snowing us in for a 5-minute joke. We’re supposed to go to the festival tomorrow.”
“After that, then.”
Before Virgil could reply, though, he realized Remus had set him up for a trap. He let out a strangled cry as Remus fell back into the far too-shallow snow in their front yard, taking Virgil down with him. The coat he was holding went sideways as Virgil flailed uselessly.
“AA– Remus!”
“What? I broke your fall!”
“Are you crazy?! You are actually trying to get a concussion, we just dragged your ass back to life.”
Remus grinned up at him as Virgil squirmed around to face him, still on top of Remus with a pout, eyes narrowed for the effect. Remus lovingly brushed the snow off of Virgil’s white hair.
“Aww, you’re cute when you’re pouting at me~”
“Then I’m about to be adorable,” Virgil deadpanned, arms folded across Remus’s chest as he settled there. “You could just ask if you want to cuddle.”
“Boring and basic. I got nauseous watching Ro sweep Logan off his feet yesterday, but I will not be out-done.”
“By dragging me down into the snow with you?”
Remus nodded enthusiastically, glad he got it. He reached over for his coat and draped it over Virgil’s back. “Mhm! Am I winning?”
Virgil cracked a smile, unable to keep up a straight face. “Yeah, sure. Careful, though, you’re bordering on cheesy romance territory.”
Remus shrugged, cupping Virgil’s face with his mittens, gazing at him with a dopey look. “I think we’ve passed the point of no return on that, so going all in.”
Virgil smiled, amused. "I'm see the family similarities."
"As long as I'm objectively hotter. Mustache."
"Yeah, dork."
Remus smiled as Virgil leaned down to assure him with a kiss, gentle and sending a pleasant electric tingle down his spine.
Virgil pressed his forehead to Remus's, and Remus felt the tingle of magic on Virgil's fingertips as they ran down his jaw to his collar.
"You're the first person who's ever trusted my magic, you know. No one else would trust me with their life like that."
"I'd hand you my soul if you asked. You're the only reason I still have it."
Virgil looked touched, expression soft.
"...I-I want you to keep it...I'll make sure it stays right where it's supposed to be for a long time."
"I'm not going anywhere, little storm."
Remus intended to stay that way by Virgil's side for a long time, too. He pulled his savior down into the wet grass with him to kiss him again until they were breathless.
