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delimeful · 9 months ago

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how easy you are to need (redux) (7)

warnings: misunderstandings, feeling trapped, unhealthy thoughts about an assumed situation, death and injury mention, discussion of debts, unreliable narrator, virgil horribly misinterpreting yet another normal conversation, literally embarrassing levels of thick-headedness

Letting his guard down around the humans was far, far easier than it should have been.

He still eased his defenses down slowly, bit by bit, of course, he wasn’t a complete fool. An understanding between him and Patton didn’t necessarily mean that the others felt the same.

They were humans, not shifters, after all, and while he could see the shape of a pack in their closeness, that didn’t mean he could assume the same principles would apply. They all took on equal responsibilities in maintaining and protecting their home, and none of the three had shown any particular indication that they were a designated envoy, meant to speak for the entire pack.

Frankly, with it only being the three of them, a lack of envoy wouldn’t have been too surprising even if they had been shifters. Some smaller packs forewent assigned roles, rotating them as needed, or were close-knit enough that they essentially acted as one whole, any individual able to speak for the pack.

The humans loved to bicker, though, and it would have been like a slap in the face to trust in Patton’s promise and then have them argue about it right in front of him. Instead, Virgil tested the firmness of the new ground he’d been offered with slow, tentative steps, like a deer crossing over a frozen lake. Better to take his time and test the ice than plunge right through.

Irritatingly, the humans made it far too easy for him to forget how precarious his standing was.

Even the simplest of interactions seemed to please them. When he’d responded to Patton’s friendly greeting for the first time, the morning after their midnight conversation, the human’s expression had lit up like a lightning bug at dusk. When he’d finally answered one of Logan’s questions during a meal, the scholar had blinked a few times in quiet surprise before smiling in a way that made his entire face look softer. When he’d pursed his lips and snapped out a sharp retort to something annoying Roman had said, the hunter hadn’t hesitated to needle him right back with friendly delight, the same as he did with the other two.

They were keeping him trapped here, because they were human and they knew better than to let a monster roam free in the woods around their home, but they didn’t want a starved prisoner or a ticket to easy riches. They wanted to offer him comfort and belonging in the time that he had left.

He’d saved them, and they were repaying it in the only way they could afford to.

It was pathetic, how relieved he felt. How genuinely grateful he was for the simple fact that he wasn’t being forced to relive the unending torment of his first imprisonment. How such basic offerings of food and warmth and companionship made it possible to ignore or even briefly forget about the executioner’s axe hoisted over his head.

He’d been on his own for a long time. Returning to that solitude would be its own kind of death, a slow and painful relearning of what it meant to be alone. He knew this, but tried not to dwell on it. He’d survived it once before, and he would again. Better to endure the loneliness than lose the safety of isolation.

So, he forced himself to keep focusing on methods of escape, on the ways this slowly-growing camaraderie would offer lapses in security, on the new freedoms he could take advantage of, and didn’t think about what he would do afterwards.

With this goal in mind, he immediately decided to test his luck by poking his nose where it didn’t belong.

He’d regained some mobility after another week of healing, though he kept his walking pace to a slow shuffle out of caution, and the humans still tended to hover like agitated honeybees whenever he was on his feet for too long. The cabin was small enough that he had mapped out most of it within a day or two, and now he approached the only room he hadn’t yet entered or peered into.

When he pushed the door of Logan’s workspace open, the human’s head snapped up immediately, wearing the beginnings of a frown. Once he saw that it was Virgil who stood in the doorway, though, the displeased turn of his lips faded away, replaced by eyebrows raised in intrigue.

“Hello,” he said, voice polite despite the interruption. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Of the three of them, Logan had been the most respectful in his formality, and so Virgil impulsively tested the bounds of that patience by not answering right away, instead letting his gaze drift over the room and its contents.

There were far more plants scattered about than he’d expected, though perhaps he should have expected as much from the dedication Logan tended his garden with. Pots of different shapes and sizes were settled on every inch of the window ledges, and planters hung from shelves and hooks on the ceiling alike. There was an entire corner of the room dedicated to racks of drying herbs and flowers, both wild and homegrown, which lent the room a pleasant dusty floral smell that almost covered up the sting of ink and chemicals.

There was a table against one wall, the shelves around it packed full with bottles of miscellaneous ingredients, all of them labeled in neat handwriting. The table itself was covered in neatly-organized supplies, with protective sigils carefully carved into the outer edge of the wood, keeping any experimentation contained. It stank less than he’d thought it would, for human magecraft, but then he hadn’t yet seen Logan doing any of the typical dissection and harvesting of supernatural creatures, either.

After the full moon, it would have the bitter tang of magic made through unwilling sacrifice, the distant preserved rot of bottled blood. Virgil would recognize the stench of post-harvest ingredients anywhere. Not that he’d be there to smell it, at that point. He forcibly pulled his attention away.

The last section of the room was less orderly than the rest, primarily due to the heaps of books that were stacked and shoved wherever there was space. Logan’s desk was the only semi-clear spot, and even that had a few precarious book towers sitting atop or alongside it. It was also covered in stacks of parchment, with lines and lines of writing or intricate diagrams sketched on the paper.

Logan sat behind it, still awaiting a response, those keen eyes watching him right back.

There was no sign of the lodestone for the ward around the cabin at first glance. He had known better than to think it would be that easy, though.

He hadn’t known that he would actually get this far, assuming that they wouldn’t want their magic prisoner sticking his nose in the most likely place to find a way out of their wards. Even Roman and Patton didn’t tend to disturb Logan too often when he was working in this space, so he’d assumed he’d only get a few moments to glance around at best.

“You haven’t been to the leyline crossing,” he said, because the silence had begun to grow awkward and he’d panicked and they really hadn’t, even though it was well past the usual time of the month they went.

Logan’s stare sharpened, which was probably a bad sign, but he only stood up to clear the books off of a second chair, and gestured for him to sit.

This had been a bad idea. Virgil slunk forward with extreme reluctance and sat.

“We haven’t,” Logan answered affirmatively as he returned to his seat, adjusting his spectacles. “It didn’t seem wise to venture into the woods, seeing as that is where the bear headed, last we saw it.”

That was… a really good reason, actually. Virgil shuddered at even the idea of them running into that creature again in the dead of night, without him to help.

“I take it that you’ve been familiar with us for a while, then, since you know of our routine offerings?” Logan continued, sounding more curious than angry.

Virgil froze up, regardless. He should have known better than to hope he could make it through a conversation without giving anything away. He hadn’t even managed to make it through the first sentence.

“I am not upset,” Logan offered, glancing down at the open book before him in a gesture that seemed designed to give Virgil a moment to breathe. “On the contrary, I am… rather relieved, to have my suspicions confirmed.”

“Relieved?” Virgil echoed dubiously, his voice a low croak. It tended to go raspy and hoarse if he wasn’t focusing on speaking, probably the result of not using his human vocal cords to speak to anyone in literal years.

“Indeed,” Logan answered. “I will admit, my initial impression of you was made hastily. We had never seen you before, and yet you didn’t hesitate to defend us, and you earned a significant injury in the process. It was worrying to unexpectedly incur such a debt.”

Virgil managed to shove aside his embarrassment in favor of confusion. It was strange to mention a debt, especially one owed to a shifter. Humans didn’t consider shifters worth trading with in any fashion, in his experience, and even other supernatural beings knew that wolves weren’t fond of holding debts or grudges. Really, the way Logan spoke about it sounded more like…

“You see, I was aware that it is rather rare for a shifter to reveal themself to humans for any length of time, as I’m sure you know, and I was also aware that the fair folk are often deft hands at taking on wild shapes of their own, particularly when interacting with humans, so…” Logan trailed off, looking a bit flustered at the admission.

“You thought I was fae,” Virgil completed the thought, feeling a bit taken aback at the idea. He certainly would have done a fair bit more against that bear if he’d had the sort of natural power that faeries so often courted.

Of course, things also would have turned out a lot worse for the humans if he’d been a fae, more likely than not. Humans who had fallen under the attention of one of the fair folk frequently met an unfortunate end because of it. Whether the faery in question was maliciously fixated or lovingly obsessed, the human would be lucky to come out irrevocably changed. They’d be lucky to come out alive at all.

“It was a working hypothesis,” Logan said primly, turning a page in his book despite the fact that he almost definitely hadn’t been reading while they spoke. “It was disproven easily enough, and so my precautions weren’t needed in the first place, but seeing as my haste has gotten me and those around me in trouble before, I thought it best to perform them anyhow.”

Precautions? Patton had said that Virgil saved his life, if not all of theirs. To the fae, a life debt like that could only be paid off one way, whether they’d been tricked into it or not.

Oh. He had wondered why Logan had been so uncharacteristically careless before, carrying an agitated and injured shifter back with its teeth only a handspan from his neck. If Virgil had been fae, if he’d chosen differently and torn out Logan’s throat, that would have been the end of any debt between him and the others. A life paid for a life owed.

“Did you run that plan by the others, first?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer.

Logan waved a hand dismissively, not bothering to pretend at regret. “They traveled out here on my behalf, in the first place. To let them suffer for my mistakes would be a poor repayment.”

From what he knew of them, Virgil thought Patton and Roman would disagree. Loudly.

“…Right,” said Virgil, in his most dubious tone. “On your behalf?”

“I’m cursed,” Logan explained shortly. “I don’t have the constitution required to perform magework without damaging my health. It was intended to make me choose between my health and my passion, but I was willing to give up neither, and found a third option: proximity to powerful natural magic, which would prevent spellwork from being as taxing.”

“Huh.” It was a clever solution. Logan might have been the one to propose their solution to Virgil, too. Offering a shifter a peaceful last few weeks certainly wasn’t an option he would have expected from any normal humans.

Right. He’d almost forgotten that his plan had been to push against the boundaries of his cage, to force them to acknowledge that he was stuck here, to remind himself that no amount of kind company was worth the pain of how this month would inevitably end.

“Well, you don’t owe me anything,” he said, a little too sharply. “And in that case, there’s no point in me staying.”

Logan sat up straight, posture stiffening as he frowned. “You’re still far from healed. I understand why you don’t wish to shift, but surely, leaving is a bad idea for the same reason?”

There it was. In the end, that was the biggest flaw in the arrangement the humans had come up with. If Virgil attacked them or tried to leave, they’d be forced to kill him immediately. He would lose, but so would they; killing him in his human form would make his corpse far, far less valuable.

“You’re only making things more difficult on yourself,” Virgil told him, crossing his arms as tightly as he could without jarring his wound. “I’m not fae. There’s no worth in being hospitable to me.”

It certainly wasn’t going to convince him to stop trying to escape. He might be pathetic, but he wasn’t that��pathetic. Honestly, it’d probably be easier for everyone if they just cut their losses and killed him now.

Logan closed his book, folded his hands over it, and met Virgil’s eyes squarely. “We offered you our hospitality because we wanted to. It is freely given, no matter the ease or difficulty involved.”

Virgil couldn’t help the way his eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. That implied that they would keep on offering him this kindness even if he did get caught attempting to escape.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t ever been truly punished for that first desperate sprint to the wards, had he? None of the things he’d believed to be threats or punishments had ever panned out the way he’d assumed. Ultimately, they hadn’t so much as directly scolded him about the escape attempt, as though the act was hardly surprising. He hadn’t been drugged, and he still wasn’t guarded.

He couldn’t be certain unless he got caught again, but… the signs were all there. They were confident enough in their cage to indulge him even when he was caught gnawing at the bars. They were underestimating him.

“Don’t blame me if you regret it later,” he said dismissively, but he couldn’t help the disbelieving half smile creeping onto his lips.

Logan returned his smile with an encouraging one of his own, apparently unfazed by Virgil’s renewed determination. “I very much doubt I will.”

He snorted and left the human to his work, not cowed at all by the arrogance. Logan could doubt all he liked. Virgil had beaten much worse odds before.

#tss fanfic #sanders sides fic #ts virgil #ts logan #werewolf au #my writing #writing #heyatnr #how easy you are to need redux #if there was a drinking game where you took a shot for every miscommunication in my fics #this one would 100% be the one that killed you the quickest i think #anyways this one goes out to those who sent the incredibly kind asks ive recently received and not yet had time to answer #thanks for everyone's patience <3

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princessnijireiki · 3 days ago

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every time I try sugar free food I am reminded, with horror, how much of a sweet tooth a lot of Americans have

#ts nasty y'all #diet coke tastes like it's brining you. don't drink that.#full sugar soda's not much better but it doesn't taste... like that #food

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edupunkn00b · 7 months ago

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Taking Care of You

Written for @tsspromptmonth's Sleepy Bean Fanfic Cafe for @brainlicking. Prompt: Magic au with vampires, darkly romantic tone, Virgil/Patton ship, hiding a fatal injury, only one bed but the one bed is a coffin. - Rated M - WC: 3806

Since their beginning, Patton had spoiled Virgil rotten. Homemade cookies every birthday. Horror movie marathons on their anniversary. 'I won't be too scared as long as you stay close.' Tinctures and luck charms when he got anxious about a gallery opening.

Soft lips and firm, gentle hands anytime he needed extra affection.

None of it was one-sided, either. Virgil took care of Patton, too. Sitting up with him for two days straight after his parents died, drying his tears and holding him tight after he'd finally drifted off to sleep. Helping him move in to the big old house in the woods his parents had left him. Staying with him until after he'd finished all the cleansing rituals.

So there was little surprise when, the night of his attack, Virgil had found himself staggering up to Patton's doorstep, blood-sticky fingers clutching the wounds at his neck. He'd just managed to brush against the doorbell when he dropped to the hand-woven mat in a heap. He was out before Patton could even answer the door.

Patton later told him how he'd dressed his wounds and changed him out of his torn and blood-soaked clothes. "Your skin was so cold," he'd whispered, warm fingers curled through his hair. "But you were still breathing, so I bundled you up and stayed close."

Unmoving and barely breathing, Virgil had slept for three days and three nights. When the sun had set at the start of the fourth night, Virgil was woken by the sound of Patton's heart pounding in his ears. The hot, salty scent of blood heavy in the air. Wrapped in the glorious heat of Patton's arms and only barely conscious, Virgil had mouthed weakly at the bit of flesh peeking out from the collar of his fluffy sweater.

A sharp canine grazing against his own tongue broke the spell long enough for Virgil to flee. He pushed himself out of Patton's embrace and out of the room. As he leapt over the banister to the floor below, he tried to convince himself he couldn't hear Patton calling him over the sound of his own ragged breathing.

Barefoot and clad in borrowed pajamas and a hoodie too short for his frame, Virgil didn't stop running until the dawn cut its bright pink gash along the horizon. He spent his first full day as a vampire hiding from the sun on the edges of a junkyard downtown.

Two years passed before Virgil had gained enough control to risk seeing him again.

It was winter again, and the early dusk granted him a better chance of seeing Patton outside, gathering birch bark or syrup. Or maybe even filling the racoon feeders for the night. After only a few hours tucked into the crook of a large yew, carefully upwind of the house and the salted caramel scent of his old love, Virgil was soon rewarded for his patience. A puff of steam followed Patton as he bounced down the path, empty bucket in hand. He whistled to himself and, likely, in warning to any of the more skittish night creatures who might have begun to creep out of the daytime refuges.

Like him.

When Patton was a dozen paces or so away, Virgil stood and spoke from the shadows. "Pat?" he called into the night.

Patton jumped at the sudden sound, pounding heart deafening to Virgil's ears. It slowed quickly, though, as he turned, peering into the darkness. "Vee?" he asked, voice shaking. But not in fear. He sounded… hopeful. "Vee, is that you?"

Virgil stepped out from under the yew's boughs and into the thin moonlight above. "It's me, Pat."

"You came back," he said simply, setting down the pail and stepping closer.

The wind shifted, filling Virgil's lungs with sugar and sage, earth and blood. Shuddering, he nodded. "I… I hope that's alright. I can… I can go."

"Don't you dare, Mister!" Patton marched forward, arms outstretched. He stopped just shy of touching him. "Is it alright if I hug you?" he asked, softer.

"Y—you want to?" Hands shoved in his overcoat pockets, Virgil fought the instinct to grab him and pull him close and… But it wasn't blood lust pushing forward. Afraid of his own hunger, he'd fed as soon as the sky grew dark. He didn't need to feed. He needed his love in his arms again.

"Of course I do!" Closing the distance, Patton fell into his arms, squeezing him tight with that old unexpected strength. "I've missed you so much, Vee."

He held him stiffly at first, but as the heat of Patton's body soaked into his skin, Virgil curled over him, opening his coat and wrapping it around both of them. "I… I can't keep you warm," he murmured into his hair. Patton's breath, his touch burned, warming him to the core. Virgil didn't want to think about how uncomfortable his own ice-cold skin must feel to him.

But Patton smiled up at him, cheeks reddened with the cold and tears sparkling in his eyelashes. He took Virgil's hand and pressed it against his own chest. "You keep me warm right here." Drawing closer, Patton reached up with his other hand and cupped Virgil's cheek.

Unable to resist the heat of his palm, Virgil let his eyes fall closed and covered Patton's hot hand with his own. Frigid lips grazed the bared skin between Patton's gloves and sleeve. Pulse point throbbing beneath paper-thin skin. Head bowed and shaking, Virgil pressed a slow kiss against wrist. The barest tip of his tongue darted out, seared against Patton's flesh, but he kept his teeth safely behind his lips.

Patton never moved away. Virgil opened his eyes, bracing himself for the expected frozen terror in Patton's face. Instead he smiled up at him.

"You're not afraid of me?" Virgil whispered.

"Of course not," Patton said said as though no other answer was even possible. Letting go of only one hand, he stooped to pick up the still-empty pail and threaded their fingers together. He gave his hand a little tug. "Will you come ho—come inside with me?"

Nodding, Virgil let himself be led back to Patton's house.

Patton had left the heavy door on the latch, just as he always used to. As he pushed it open with one hand, cozy firelight, the scents of drying herbs and simmering soup spilled out into the dark night. Virgil paused on the doorstep, tracing the rust-colored stained bell in its frame. And the protections runes carved into its shape.

Following his gaze, Patton hummed and reached out his hand, "You needn't worry," he said. "It's safe for you to come in, it always has been."

Virgil accepted his hand and closed his eyes before stepping inside. Patton spoke the truth. "How long have you known?" he finally asked. A vampire did not simply saunter into a mage's home on the technicality of an open invitation, let alone a mage as skilled as Patton.

Stomping the snow from his boots, Patton shrugged, thoughtful. "Really, as… as soon as I saw you that night." He watched Virgil loosen his scarf, the immortal scars clearly visible just below his jaw. "There are scarce other ways to get puncture wounds like that. And…" He looked down then, straightening their boots over the fireplace grate. "You still had you sire's blood on your mouth," he added slowly. "There was no question you would turn."

"But if… if you knew…" Virgil's head swam and he fumbled with the collar of his overcoat. Patton surged forward, gently disentangling him from the damp wool. "Pat, when I woke, you were in my arms. If you knew I'd turn…" With his thumb and forefinger, he nudged up Patton's chin so he'd meet his eyes. "Why would you put yourself in danger like that?"

"Oh, Vee." Smiling, Patton lowered his head and kissed Virgil's fingers before meeting his eyes again. "I knew you couldn't hurt me, besides…" he said with a little shrug as he peeled off his coat. "You needed someone to take care of you. Oh—" Hugging the coat to his chest in one arm, Patton brushed his hand down Virgil's back. "You're wearing my hoodie."

Turning, Virgil held Patton's hand to his still heart and nodded. "I… I was wearing it when…" Patton's eyes shone, glossy with tears. Virgil didn't realize he was also crying until Patton reached up and brushed away a tear from his face.

"I'm glad you kept it."

"You kept me warm," Virgil whispered.

As though suddenly feeling the frigid damp from his coat, Patton stroked his cheek and quickly hung the sopping wool by the fire. Then he took Virgil's hand and pulled him to the foot of the stairs. "I have something to show you."

Patton brought him to his bedroom. "You've… made some changes."

Nodding, Patton looked proudly around the room. Where once the big poster bed had dominated the space, it was now pushed into one corner, just under the window. Patton had brought up the long wooden table from the dining room, as well as several bookcases from various parts of the house. Every surface was covered with potions and vials and the supplies of his craft. A heavy, ancient tome lay open in the center of the table, a basket of scrolls sat underneath. Fragrant herbs hung drying from the windows and only slightly overpowered by the heavy, wet smell of fungi media.

"I've made it my workshop," Patton pulled him closer to a large flask left bubbling over a heat source Virgil couldn't identify. "A few of these require… frequent monitoring. And I—" He shrugged and looked up at Virgil, blood blooming just under his skin as he blushed. "I slept better being able to keep watch."

"What are you…" One end of the table was consumed by a detailed map of the entire region, held flat with Patton's ritual candles and a heavy crystal wrapped in a braided cord. The map was covered in tiny, dated marks. "You've been scrying for me," he said more than asked.

Patton's hand hovered over the crystal, its energy buzzing through the air. He nodded.

Then Virgil's eyes fell on the open page of the grimoire. To sceald a vampyre, Þu þearfast mod and garleac. Virgil stepped back, dropping Patton's hand. "Are you… are you trying to cure me?"

Eyes wide and mouth falling open into a little 'oh,' Patton shook his head. He rushed forward and grasped Virgil's hand in both of his, gently tugging him closer to the table. "No! No, I don't want to change you," he said, pointing to the Old English. "I want to keep you safe. It's protection charm. For you," he added.

"For me?" Virgil repeated dumbly. "Not… against me?"

"Never," Patton whispered. "It'll help hide you from Hunters." He shook his head again and drew closer. "I don't want to change you, just… take care of you."

Virgil's arms wrapped around him almost automatically and Patton looked up at him, breath sweet and hot as it fanned over his face. Patton's heartbeat filled the silence, thrumming against Virgil's chest as he closed the final distance between them. Face turned up, Patton licked his lips, tiny pink tongue darting out. "Kiss me?" he whispered.

"I—" Every reason why he shouldn't, every sensible thought about keeping his distance from the soft, living warmth of his skin and flesh and blood was pushed away by those whispered words. A soft growl pushed up from his throat and Patton surged up to meet him. Patton's fingers—gloriously burning hot fingers—threaded behind Virgil's neck and pulled him down into a kiss.

Patton had never given up hope, but to be honest, when the bright colors of autumn had turned cold and wet with winter for the second year, his hope of ever seeing Virgil again had begun to grow terribly thin. Tracking his movements with the crystal, seeing him move from day to day helped to reassure him his love was still alive… well vapirically alive, at least. It hurt to see him never come closer than a few miles. But even in the dark that awful night, he'd seen the terror in Virgil's eyes as he'd pushed him away. He knew Virgil wasn't staying away because he wanted to. Merely because he thought he had to.

So Patton had held on to his hope, and poured his worry and his love into finding a way to try to keep him safe, to try to take care of him even from afar. Once he'd perfected the charm, he planned to take his map and seek Virgil out. But for all his hope, he'd never dared dream that Virgil would return to him first.

Skin cold as stone but as soft as ever, Virgil was finally here, in his arms. Tears salted their kiss, and Virgil trembled against him. Patton held him closer, relishing the familiar taste of his mouth, tracing the sharp edges of his new teeth. Far too quickly, Virgil gently broke away, his first shaky smile of the night curling up his lips.

"Will you stay?" For the night, for his life, for as long as Virgil wanted, that's what Patton wanted, too.

Long, cool fingers carded through his hair. "I… I need certain things," he muttered, bowing his head until their foreheads touched. "I… I would need…"

"You'll need to feed," Patton said plainly. "And you'll need a coffin at night," Patton nodded, grinning when Virgil looked back at him with surprise. "With soil from… well," he glanced outside. "From here."

"But how—" Together, their eyes fell on the old grimoire Patton had bartered for from the wizened couple on the other edge of the woods. "Oh."

"Will you stay?" Patton asked again, hope bubbling in his chest at the return of Virgil's smile.

He answered him with a kiss.

Patton's days soon fell into a pattern. All through that winter and for much of the spring, he would sleep when Virgil slept, then wake at the first owl's hoot of the evening. Most days, hungry days, Virgil insisted he slept alone, but some days… Those days after good nights when he'd found enough willing and generous to share a bit of their blood. Or hunting nights when Virgil found someone whose only goal was to hurt others, those days Virgil would open his arms and invite Patton to sleep with him.

As summer approached and the days grew longer, even those glorious times left Patton restless partway through Virgil's slumber and he would spend part of the day working on his potions. The protection charm worked flawlessly, rendering Virgil nearly undetectable to Hunters until he was safely out of their range. He had several new ideas to try, and the long, sunny days granted him plenty of time to both rest and work, researching, gathering herbs, crushing and mixing.

It had been a particularly productive day and Patton was startled by the owl outside his window. He'd never managed to make his way to bed. With a little laugh, he chewed some ginseng for a boost, then raced down to the cellar to greet Virgil when he woke.

"'Morning, Moonlight," he murmured, cool hands soothing over his sunburned cheeks. He'd spent a several hours hunting for green sunflower seeds and his face bore the proof.

"Good morning, love," Patton whispered back, leaning in for a kiss.

Sitting up, Virgil pressed his face into Patton's curls. "You've been outside today. You smell like the sun."

The longing in Virgil's voice was unmistakable and Patton held him tighter. "I've been working on something. A surprise for you, if it works."

"You always have the best surprises," he murmured, lips close to his ear. Virgil's head dipped lower, cool breath against his neck. A low growl rumbled in his chest and he pushed back, trembling. "I… I need—"

Giving Virgil a bit more space, Patton nodded but still offered his hand to help him up. "I'll be here when you return."

Virgil stared at his hand, moonlight glinting off the hint of teeth behind parted lips. He accepted the help, then dashed upstairs and outside.

Patton watched him go, then slowly followed him out of the cellar and to the kitchen. He made himself breakfast then returned to his work. The seeds were ready and so was he, gathering the remaining roots and the chanterelles he'd kept in quarantine under his bed. This potion took a careful hand and precise measurements, both in the preparation and to keep the draught safe and palatable for Virgil.

If the grimoire was right, the Sun's Dew would grant Virgil the time in the sun he so clearly craved.

Mind on his task and heart out in the woods, seeking a meal, Patton sprinkled the hulled seeds into his cauldron. He counted as they fell, then set down the mortar to press what remained.

He'd miscounted.

The potion bubbled, foam rising up to the lip of the cauldron and spilling out onto the table. Patton moved quickly to sop up the hot broth but the mixture was faster. It touched the flask of birchwood and exploded.

Sun kissed and still warm from the summer's day, Patton smelled of ginseng and fire and life. Blood thundered in his veins, a taste Virgil wished he could forget. A few desperate nights, when he'd returned weakened and starved from an unsuccessful hunt, he'd succumbed to sweet Patton's freely given flesh. Succumbed to his need and drank. He didn't feed much from him, more often than he should, less often than he longed to. Far less often Patton offered.

But this was a lucky—if short—night and Virgil escaped temptation. After several hours and with the scent of dawn in the air, he was finally sated by a common hunter he'd been tracking for three long weeks. Long enough to know with certainty the earth would not miss the tread of his boots on her soil.

Nor would his battered wife.

Virgil raced the sun home, crossing the threshold just as the first birdsong flitted out from the lake. He closed the door behind him with a sigh, greeting Patton's relieved smile with a laugh. "Yes, I know I cut that a little too close for comfort," he said, moving to his side once he'd finished drawing the long, heavy curtains over the front room's windows.

Patton blinked up at him with tired eyes, already dressed for bed. "You'll be more careful next time?"

Virgil nodded solemnly. "You have my word," he murmured, drawing his love close. He froze at Patton's tiny wince. "Have I hurt you?"

"No! No, of course not," Patton smiled, easing into the embrace. "I'm a little stiff from hunching over my workbench." They stood quietly together, listening to the whip-poor-wills outside.

With the warmth of the sun in his arms, his recent feed thrumming through his veins, Virgil hummed, a peace he'd been missing finally clicking into place. His head grew heavy and he rested his cheek against the top of Patton's head.

"You must be tired," Patton whispered, his own voice fatigued. "Would it be alright if I joined you tonight?"

"Please," Virgil murmured back, head bowed to meet his eyes. Sad clouds passed over Patton's eyes and Virgil leaned in for a soft kiss. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Nodding, Patton laid his head on his shoulder. "It will make tonight special."

That night's dreams were filled with blood.

Rich, salty, and hot. Under the blinding moonlight, Virgil waded through a steaming lake. He washed his face and hands in it, breathing in the life and strength of it.

The owl's cry woke him. In the complete blackness of his closed coffin, Patton was still curled close, head pillowed on his shoulder. He'd spent the whole slumber in his arms, a sweet gift on these long summer days. "Good morning, Moonlight," he whispered, pressing kisses into his hair. The scent of his blood was thick in the air, rising up from him with a fervor Virgil was not accustomed to in all but his deepest hunger. Patton drowsed, shifting weakly in his arms. "Moonlight?"

"Hm, love," he mumbled, head heavy against his chest.

Leaning as far back as the tiny space would allow, Virgil brushed the backs of his fingers over Patton's cheek.

His skin felt cool.

One arm cradling him close, Virgil pushed up, throwing open the lid to his coffin. He let it clatter to the floor, the ember's glow illuminating the sticky blood covering his hand. "No! No, I couldn't, I—" Virgil licked his lips, dry and tasteless. No, it hadn't been him. "Moonlight? Pat!" Holding him close, Virgil leapt out and settled Patton in front of the cellar furnace.

His shirt and sleep pants were soaked through with blood, as were Virgil's own clothes. But his neck and wrists were clean of wounds. "I'm sorry," Virgil muttered and, hands shaking, tore open his shirt.

Gashes littered the soft skin of his chest and belly, one angry and long, curling around just below his ribs. "Pat? Pat, what's happened?" Virgil looked up and saw Patton watching him past half-closed lids.

"I made a mistake," he whispered, voice horribly thin. "I… I couldn't heal it. I tried, I…" He shook his head once, eyes slipping shut.

"No!" Virgil roared, grabbing Patton's shoulders, "No, you can't just die, you—"

Jostled into half-consciousness, Patton's eyes half-opened again. "I'm sorry I couldn't take care of you."

"No, no no no no no!" Virgil shook his head, copper and salt making his head spin. "No, but I can take care of you. Pat? Pat, listen to me," he shook him again, willing him to stay alert long enough to say yes. "Please? Let me take care of you. All you need to do is drink."

"Drink?" he asked, so quiet Virgil had to lean down to hear.

Biting his own wrist, Virgil nodded, offering the wound. "Please," he whispered. Without a heart to pump it, his blood flowed slowly, a single drop welling at the edge of the wound.

Patton blinked up at him, each fall so slow Virgil feared it was the last. Finally, he parted his lips, soft pink tongue lapping at Virgil's skin.

"That's it, Moonlight, just like that," Virgil urged, a new warmth filling his chest as Patton's tentative movements turned purposeful and he drank in earnest. "Just like that."

Patton paused, head falling back against his arm, so Virgil stretched out next to him in front of the furnace. He pulled him close and raised his wrist to Patton's mouth again. "That's it, Moonlight. Now we can take care of each other."

Breaking away, lips and tongue rose red, Patton smiled weakly up at him. "Forever."

#sanders sides #ts patton #ts virgil #patton sanders #virgil sanders #mage!patton #vampire!virgil #magic au #vampire au #blink and you miss it background (and unnamed) loceit #cw blood drinking #cw undeath #it's a vampire fic‚ y'all and rated M for a reason #moxiety

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dikdikpronouncedxylophone · 1 year ago

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Logan: Hangovers come from neurological death. Janus: But it's not... bad. Just a little neurological death.

#sanders sides #sanders sides incorrect quotes #tw drinking #tw alchohol mention #janus sanders #ts janus #logan sanders #ts logan

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oacest · 7 months ago

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August 1994 - The Word - CCTV footage of Liam's fight in the Dry Bar

#40 G&Ts lmao #if he had 40 drinks and was still standing the bar should be investigated #ours #liam

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ratshells · 1 year ago

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IM SORRY “hostile and threatening messages”??

So you’re upset about how things are handled and you think the way to solve it is by telling folks to die?? Y’all didn’t think to… y’know not do that… because that shit makes people not want to work on stuff. Which will further delay the game that you claim to love so much.

Cause I get the whole outrage about the patreon thing BUT there are ways to voice your concerns that don’t involve threats on people’s lives. I KNOW you wouldn’t want that shit being said to you in you were in their position and idk you’re highkey ruining shit for everyone else when y’all pull shit like this. It’s not cute and it will NOT solve your problems.

#imagine actively telling game devs to kms #like you do realize they can cancel this shit and fuck yall over worse #we can use nice words to talk to people doing services!#or maybe you just dont see them as people and want to talk to them any type of way #anyways learn basic compassion and drink some water #ts game #touchstarved game

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atopvisenyashill · 10 months ago

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IF YOU LIKE THIS ASOIAF CHARACTER, I THINK YOU’LL LIKE THIS FARSCAPE CHARACTER

i did a “all gays” thing for my birthday last year but i was too lazy this year. instead here is my opinion of farscape & asoiaf characters, comparing characters i think are similar.

if you like theon greyjoy…i think you’ll like john crichton (he’s the main character).

Conga Line Of Trauma

Very loose grip on reality

Struggles with choosing between the family he’s been kidnapped into and the family he was born into

Top Two best story arcs about male victims of sexual trauma imo

Copes by imagining himself as a character in a story rather than face his reality

Pathetic wet cat of a man

if you like jaime lannister…i think you’ll like aeryn sun

theyre hot shit and everyone knows it even though they hate it - the ☀️ radiant aeryn sun☀️ and “was there ever a man as beautiful and terrible”

Well known for being good at their job (which is killing people)

Idealist that got that idealism beaten out of them

constantly repressing emotions

an arc that is very romance centered but atypical as a traditional romance

if you like brienne and/or sandor…i think you’ll like ka d’argo.

Young, experienced but not too experienced military type

Struggles with idealism and what being a soldier/knight should mean

Not forthcoming about backstory

Struggles with temper

Cool And Important Weapon And Mount

Considered mindlessly violent by many

Very weird about romance and sex

if you like catelyn stark…i think you’ll like pa’u zotah zhaan

religious and maternal

pacifist tendencies but also will cut a bitch if pressed

Infamous for being unpleasant

Traumatic death scenes

Questionable relationship with the concept of dying and staying dead

MILFs

if you like sansa and arya stark…i think you’ll like chiana

Their Series’ Hottest It Girls

Idolizes rebellion leading older brother (who ultimately abandons her in favor of his rebellion)

Desperate for family

Holds emotions close, but highly emotional

Taste for finer things in life

Baby of the group

Struggles with grief and anger

Spunky go getter

Questionable taste in romantic relationships

if you like tyrion lannister….i think you’ll like scorpius

mother died birthing him and he struggles with this immensely

tormented by a crazy ruthless woman in power

feels betrayed by a lover of a lower social status just trying to get by and gets real violent over it

The Anti Villain - has very good reasons to be insane but holy shit is he insane

Always survives despite all odds against him

If you like Joffrey Baratheon…I think you’ll like Dominar Rygel XVI (hear me out!)

Absolute ruler who faces civil war

Wildly misogynistic weirdo

Weak grasp on morality

Turned into a violent, selfish asshole as a trauma response

Hates women yet his deepest, most profound and intimate relationships are with a woman he’s not even fucking

Remains selfish and violent throughout the story but also, if you talk shit about him i will throw hands

if you like samwell tarly…i think you’ll like Pilot.

Couple of sweet fools

Underrated for being a bad ass

Intimate relationship with a Very Cool Lady From A Bad Situation (gilly/moya. moya is a living ship btw).

Just wants to be a nerd and hang with his gf (again, gilly and moya)

Doesn’t believe in himself the way he should

if you like stannis baratheon…i think you’ll like bailar crais.

Is he a hero? is he a villain? is he an anti villain? is he an anti hero? you decide!

loses his everloving mind after his brother dies

sad traumatic childhood backstory

an arc focused on what service and leadership means

[SPOILER REDACTED]

HE thinks he’s the straight man in a circle of freaks and he thinks this while being objectively the biggest freak there

and last but not least let’s go to my babies!!!!

if you like bran stark…i think you’ll like stark.

Overwhelming magical abilities

Connects magically in intimate, voyeuristic ways

Potentially unkillable

Considered a sweetie by Local MILF (his mom/zhaan)

Struggles processing a personal loss

A narrative focus on the importance of bodily autonomy

Doesn’t have as much screentime/page time as he deserves

#anyways happy birthday to me #valyrianscrolls #farscape #getting on my soap box #obviously there’s several big characters missing from both sides but i didn’t want to force any comparisons #farscape is also a lot funnier but when it’s serious it’s SERIOUS and arguably george is underrated for being p funny #also if u think i make everyone gay and trans in asoiaf farscape was my gateway drug #best example of this is the first time john & aeryn have sex. and it’s john in his feelings & scared & wants comfort.#we don’t see them fuck you just see him sit next to her and very sadly kiss her shoulder and up her neck & aeryn returns the kiss.#way sexier than actually seeing it tbh. then three seasons later there’s a mirror of this. aeryn is drinking & upset & wants comfort.#and kisses john’s shoulder and up his neck and remembers the first time. i was like eight when i watched this it blew my mind akskdk #long post for ts

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