Text
Important info when requesting rise on netflix: DONâT add rise of the tmnt to more than one line at a time or you may be flagged as a bot.
Heres the link:
 https://help.netflix.com/en/titlerequest
120 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Look at the stars,
My darling baby boys
Life is strange and vast
Filled with wonders and joy
Face each new sun
With eyes clear and truth
I'm not afraid of the unknown
Because I'll face it all with you
Look to the stars
And gaze up at the moon
Even as these days pass
I'm always thinking of you
Face each new day
And keep your hope alive
I promise I'll be there soon
It won't be long 'til I'm with you
719 notes
¡
View notes
Text
finals week is killing me yâall so a healthy reminder
some things iâve learned while studying in quarantine
drink more water instead of more coffee.
weekly goals are bullshit. set yourself 3-day goals. youâll be less laid-back.
donât just mindlessly stare at words. before you start studying, know your approach to it. have a plan.
summarizing the concept in your own words is the key part of taking notes. donât just copy things down, convert them into your own way of talking, your own vocabulary, no matter how dumb and unprofessional it sounds.
donât let the âstudyblr aestheticâ fool you. studying doesnât have to be pretty. summaries and notes can be messy as long as theyâre comprehensible. you can always rewrite and reorganize them later. (honestly, you better do. and you better keep them.)
donât throw away the papers youâve solved your problems in. staple them to the fucking textbook. you need to see them constantly. cause youâll need reminders of how far youâve came, when youâre feeling discouraged.
donât be an armchair analyst for your issues. if you have an idea then act on it.
remember: the exact point where it becomes difficult, is where your growth begins. take a deep breath, and try to focus on the paragraph in front of you.
get off your high horse and understand that if youâre a zero, you wonât go to 100 in a couple of days. first, youâll need to reach 30, then from 30 to 60, and then from 60 to 90. nobody is 100 everyday. that happens very rarely.
you need to have fun everyday. you need to have peaceful time every single day. even on exam night. especially on exam night, actually. so make sure youâve studied enough so you can have some time to yourself.
once youâre on a roll and in need of some challenge to stay on track, start writing down your studying hours. tell yourself youâre not allowed to do less than 80% of what you did yesterday. whatever the hell it was, even just one hour. so if yesterday you really studied for like, say 8 hours, today your goal is to study for at least 6 and a half hours. if you canât keep up with that, make it 70%, or 60%.Â
be forgiving of yourself. be kind to yourself. even if you bounced back and lost your streak. start again. as slowly as you did before. take your time. itâs okay, you were there once you can get there again.
41K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Turns out Logan and Janus aren't the only Sides who can have paradoxical errors
7K notes
¡
View notes
Photo

#kerolunaticat #ducktales #ducktales2017 #gyrogearloose #boyd #astroboyd https://www.instagram.com/p/B_s2_MSpYpG/?igshid=r51mhgpg0kdj
368 notes
¡
View notes
Text
The Good Place really said âPeople improve when they get external love and support. How can we hold it against them, when they donât?â and "We choose to be good because of our bonds with other people" and "What matters isnât if people are good or bad. What matters is if theyâre trying to be better today than they were yesterday" and "If soulmates do exist, they aren't found, they're made" and "That knowledge [that life ends] is what gives life meaning" and "The answer is friends" and "Thatâs what the Good Place really is â itâs not even a place, really. Itâs just having enough time with the people you love" and I think that's very sexy of them
118K notes
¡
View notes
Photo
character: adopts another person, or two, or ten me, immediately falling in love:Â
98K notes
¡
View notes
Note
I know its been said Violet has two dads, will we get to meet them in canon?
Want to be very up front and honest about this: Violetâs dads are present and show up but do not play a huge role in the story thus far. As with all of our characters, we had a lot of conversations about who Violet was and what her background was and came up with this fun notion of her too enthusiastic, overly supportive dads who love being dads. We didnât really have a story built around them, but when the time came for an episode focusing on Huey and Violet in a particular situation, it made sense that they would be there (and it resulted in Matt Humphreys coming up with one of my favorite Lena lines ever). But Iâm well aware that the âqueer representation through parents and background charactersâ trope is an issue, and weâve sort of stumbled backwards into a lot of heteronormative romances in this show due to legacy characters with pre-existing relationships (Scrooge and Goldie, Donald and Daisy, Fenton and Gandra) and how many specific hoops you have to jump through to make changes to established Disney characters (Again, please read my future book). But thatâs really no excuse. Weâve done pretty well on racial diversity and representation of people with limb differences, but we really have not done enough relevant LGBTQ+ rep. We do have some themes and ideas coming up that address relevant LGBTQ+ narratives. But thereâs always opportunity for a lot more; I donât want a cop out and a cookie for saying âlook at this one thing we did!â I know this response is a bit of a bummer, but I didnât want to lead anyone on. But please believe, as Iâve said before, Iâm dedicated to being better and finding new opportunities for three dimensional representation, on this show and the next and the next.
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Fright or Flight: Chapter 4
Parings: Prinxiety // Logicality // Platonic LAMP
Story Summary: Virgil and Patton investigate the New Prince Castle, when a brutal accident kills Patton. Patton wakes as a ghost and meets friendly ghoul Roman, who has been haunting the castle for 20 years. Virgil is determined to bring Patton back to life and brings Logan, the ghost expert, to help him out. Time is quickly running out, and the four must work together to undo death. If only it was as simple as Logan made it sound.
Unknown to them, a secret entity in the castle does not plan on letting them succeed.
First Chapter  Previous Chapter
To Pattonâs surprise, he loved the woods! The chirping sounds of birds and the scurrying of fluffy critters excited him as he matched his pace to the bubbly gurgling of the creek hidden beyond the trees. It was calming and serene. Pacifying enough to get his mind off their final destination.
Virgil, on the other hand, disagreed with Pattonâs five star forest Yelp review.
âAre we there yet?â Virgil groaned, dragging his feet behind Patton.
âIf weâre quick, another half hour kiddo!â Patton chirped.
Virgil sighed dramatically, yanking his hands from his purple-patched hoodie. âWeâve been walking forever, Iâve learn the true definition of drowning in sweat, and I think every car that passes us is a ephebophilic murderer.â
âE-phe-bo-philic.â Patton perplexedly sounded out.
âA pervert who would be all too happy to find two lonesome teenagers walking alone a forested road.â Virgil explained while plunging his hands back into their homey pocket abyss. âMaybe this was a bad idea.â
Patton frowned emphatically and slowed his pace until him and Virgil were hiking side-by-side. âYouâve just had too much time to get into that silly oleâ head of yours. Weâre just fine!â Patton reassured, grinning as an idea crossed his head.
âI know! Why donât we play a game?â
Virgil raised a suspicious eyebrow at his direction. âWhat kind of game?â
âI spy! Why donât you go first?â Patton invited.
Virgil crossed his arms in resistance. Patton pulled his favorite card and shot his puppy-eyes in return. No one was too old for a bit of distracting fun! And definitely never to broody-no matter how much black his son determined on coloring himself with.
Virgil blew a raspberry into the air and shrugged, which Patton greedily took as an enthusiastic win. âI spy with my little eyesâŚsomething black.â
âRight on brand, but at least youâre trying.â Patton quippedd. âIs it the road?â
âNope.â
âYour hoodie?â Patton tried again.
âNuh-uh.â
Patton craned his neck to the sky. âThe birds?â
âWrong again, pops.â
âWell what is it?â Patton eagerly gave in.
Virgil stared at him with a deadpanned expression. âItâs what weâll see when a murderer stabs us in the back and we lose consciousness because we were so enraptured with a preschool game.
Patton ogled at Virgil, dumbfounded and disturbed. ���IâŚappreciate your imagination. But you see, Virge, the game âI Spyâ is usually about others trying to figure out what you see. You know, physically? So maybe give it another go.â
Virgil lazily eyed Patton before scanning his surroundings in relent. âI spy something red.â
âIt better not be blood this time.â Patton warned. âIs it my sock?â
Patton pointed at his long mismatched socks, one red, one yellow. Virgil shook his head.
Patton scanned his surroundings, thinking hard. Two pinpricks of light hidden in bushes caught his attention. âIs it those eyes in the trees?â
Virgil naturally shook his head before halting and snapping his head to the bundle of trees. âEyes?â
âYeah!â Pat confirmed. âI think it was a deer.â
Virgil squinted his eyes, following the direction Patton was enhtuastically pointing at. Swiftly, he took quiet steps to the cluster of evergreen.
âVirgil, donât go in there. You might spook it away!â Patton warned.
âDeer eyes glow yellow. Not red.â Virgil apprised faintly. He stepped off the broken road and shuffled through the trees, scanning the area. The entrance to the wood was spread out and bright-if there were any animals there, he would have spotted them.
Despite the beaming sun and thick hoodie, Pattonâs hand iced his skin when he briefly touched Virgilâs shoulder. âMaybe I was seeing things. Letâs just get to the castle.â
However, when Virgil met Pattonâs sky blue eyes, shrunken and unsure, he took another step deeper into the wooded area. Patton had seen something, and it wasnât an animal.
âWhoâs there?â Virgil called into the trees, omitting the tremble from his words. Â He kept one hand on his backpack as security, despite there being nothing inside that would offer protection. With the other, he motioned Patton to wait at the edge of the road, facing the sparsely spread trees. âStay where you are. Iâm going to look around. If you canât see me, call me and Iâll come back.â
Patton looked as if he wanted to argue, but then settled down and nodded. treading back until he returned on the aggregate. âBe careful, Kiddo.â
Feeling steadier knowing Patton was simultaneously safe and watching his back, Virgil hastened his pace deeper through the trees. were clustered enough for Virgil to have to watch his stepping, but spread out enough for Patton to spot glimpses of him through windows of wood. However, the deeper he stepped, the closer and thicker the trees became. Sunlight slowly became subdued from the overhead spanning of branches and leaves.
Surveying the area around him, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The dirt mushed around his Converse, adding filth to his worn-down shoes. The dark leaves idly dangled from their branches, softly swaying in the breeze like wind chimes. Chirping fell from the sky in undertones as red birds flew overhead. The red birds Patton was meant to spot.
Watchfully turning around in a circle, Virgil widened his eyes in investigation. Nothing caught his attention. Patton wasnât the type to pull pranks, but he was the type of get carried away in his imagination. About to call it quits, Virgil began to take a step back.
Without warning, two spots of red blinked in the brushes, a bright contrast from the cool tones of the forest. It was far off from where Virgil stood and it only shone for a second, but Virgil had it.
He sped off to a chase where the red light flashed, hopping over fallen logs with twisted branches that prodded his legs as he fell. It was getting darker now-the trees crowded and loftier-blocking the pastel sky. Faintly, he heard Patton calling after him in the distance.
Virgil rationally understood he could be rushing after the trick of the light or a prankster. Be that as it may, Virgilâs heart was pumping with exhilaration. What were the odds that in the forest near a possibly haunted castle, both Patton and Virgil spotted gleaming red orbs?
âIs anywhere here?â Virgil called into the woods, slowing to a stop. He hastily fished out his phone, pressing record. A small line of light pierced the wood as Virgil scanned his camera in front of him.
A sharp crack erupted from his left, abrupt and quick. Virgil swiveled to the left and held out his phone. A stick laid in the dirt, snapped in half. The black hairs on his pale arm stood up straight, each an individual sensor for any sudden sound or movement.
âIf that was you, can you give me another sign?â Virgil stood tensely, awaiting another indicator. Upon utter stillness, he suggested, âMake a leaf from the tree in front of me fall if you broke the stick.â
Virgil craned his neck upwards, scanning the leaves of the broad overhead tree. Leisurely, almost tauntingly, a single leaf unlatched itself from its twig and fluttered down gracefully. Virgil followed the movement with his phoneâs light. The narrow leaf landed on Virgilâs shoulder.
Virgil attempted to calm himself down. Not from fear, but from excitement. This was the closest he had gotten to a response affirming a self-aware entity. And the entity was communicating with him personally, manipulating responses to make their answer clear. This was a big deal! This is what Virgil expected ghost hunting to be like!
âMy name is Virgil Storme,â he introduced. âWhatâs your name?â
A soft whisper rasped, coarse and hoary. As if the voice had not been used in a long time, and it was testing out its tongue once more. Pausing deeply after each syllable, the voice croaked, âRoman. Prince.â
Roman Prince? The Roman Prince? One of the tragic victims from the New Prince Castleâs brutal murder?
Okay. Relax. As long as he didnât screw things up, this could happen.
âHello, Roman. Are you from-â Ring! Ring!
Virgil jumped as his phone violently buzzed. Pattonâs contact flashed on the phone, loudly beeping. Irritated would be an understatement as Virgil answered loudly, âWhat, Patton?â
âWhat do you mean, âwhat, Patton?ââ Patton yelled, equally loud and much more aggravated. âIâve called you at least five times! I canât see you at all. Youâve had me worried sick!â
Virgil furrowed his brow in confusion, checking his phone log. His last call had been from Remy this morning. âI have no missed calls from you. The signal must have been jacked up.â
âI donât care!â Patton cried. âYou just went running off into the middle of the forest where I canât see you. You ignore me when Iâm calling after you. You were supposed to stay in my sight.â
Virgil guiltily ran his sweaty palm through his hair. âIâm sorry for worrying you, Pat. But, I think I really got something here.â
Promising to head back, Virgil hung up and sighed at his phone. The video had stopped. At least Roman spoke before Patton called-right in the nick of time as well.
âRoman?â Virgil called. âAre you still here?â Steady silence answered Virgil. The cold weight that was brought upon the entityâs presence had lifted. The manifestation had disappeared.
Still, Virgil had a name. And a connection. Roman Prince from the New Prince Castle.
This investigation might be the one to finally unlock his answers of the paranormal. Finally, Virgil would win.
 The sun was slowly setting, casting warm hues onto the early evening sky. Remy gently hobbled up and down in his seat as they headed down the bumpy road. Soft, classical music drifted from the carâs radio.
âCan you believe it? They walked! Walked! Alone in the woods; like a couple of white guys!â
Logan shot Remy a questioning glance. âThey are a couple of white guys.â
âYeah, but Iâve practically raised Virgil-bringing him coffee and letting him inside my house at four in the morning. He should have some Hispanic blood running through his veins. Where are his street smarts?â
Logan sighed, keeping his eyes on the road. Remy and Loganâs father were relatively close. Remy knew Logan since he was a kid. When Loganâs father received a call from Remy asking for a ride, he had sent Logan to pick him up and drop him off at his shop.
Remy has been huffing about todayâs former events since Logan had arrived to pick him up. In the back of Loganâs vehicle, Remyâs sad excuse of a car was being towed. Â âIf you are so wound up about them walking to the castle, why did you grace them with your consent to proceed?â
Remy crossed his arms, pouting. âGurl, donât you think I tried to stop them? But, at the end of the day, Iâm just Virgilâs fun, sexy roommate. Iâm not the boss of him. And when Virgil sets his mind to something, he does it.â Remy pulled his hazel locks. âItâs so irritating!â
When a silence settled over the pair, Remy could feel Loganâs calculating eyes fall upon him, studying his body movement, his words. Remy shifted uncomfortably, but kept his back facing Logan as he stared out the window. Remy felt like a textbook under his gaze.
Finally, Logan seemed to reach his conclusion. Clicking his tongue, he determined, âYouâre upset.â
Remy harshly glared at Logan, feathers riled up and fuming. âNo shit, Sherlock.â
âHowever,â Logan enunciated, âI do not believe itâs because Virgil and Patton took a walk in order to arrive to their destination.â
âOh wise one, please enlighten me on how you reached that conclusion.â Remy sarcastically pleaded.
âBecause you and I know that Virgil can take care of himself-you have seen it countless of times. Additionally, the circumstances in which the are embarking on their travels is more than suitable. They left well during the earlier hours of daylight, they have all the supplies they would need for survival, and if there was any danger, they would easily be able to call you.â Logan explained, ticking down each factor on the list with a soft hit on the driving wheel.
âYou wouldnât get it.â Remy mumbled. âYou donât feel things like other people.â
âJust because I am more logical than most does not mean I donât feel.â Logan defended, voice slightly rising. âI just believe you are upset and need to see things from a different perspective-hence, my explanation.â
âYeah, okay.â Remy conceded, shooting Logan an apologetic smile. âYouâre right. Thanks for trying, nerd.â
Logan seemed perplexed as whether Remy was genuinely expressing his gratitude or if he was as the butt of another insult. It was a bit of both.
âNot to, as the saying goes, âstick my nose where it doesnât belong,â but you had mentioned having history with the New Prince Castle. Does that, perhaps, have something to do with you exaggerated concern?â
âSayings exist for a reason, Lo. I didnât have a good experience with that castle when I was younger. I just want the kid and his friend to stay safe.â
Logan took the hint and let the conversation die. Remy suddenly felt awfully tired, and he wasnât up to make small talk, and he definitely wasnât up for nerd talk, so instead he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window.
âThanks for the ride, hun.â Remy mumbled.
âYou are very welcome, Remy. Do not hesitate to give me a call if youâre in need.â
Remy pictured the New Prince Castle in his head from his childhood. Colorful and full of life. Everyone gave it their all to make the castle come to life. He wondered what the castle looked like now, aged and abandoned. Covered in dust and mold with only remnants of what it once been.
No matter how it looked now, it could not be uglier than what is used to be.
 Taglist: @suspicious-sweaters @septicstarlight
#thomas sanders#sanders sides#thomas sanders fanfic#roman sanders#virgil sanders#patton sanders#logan sanders#remy sanders#ghost story#adventure#LAMP#platonic lamp#prinxiety#logicality#deceit sanders#CALM#sanders side fic#fluff#angst
14 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Fright or Flight: Chapter 3
Parings: Prinxiety // Logicality // Platonic LAMP
Story Summary: Virgil and Patton investigate the New Prince Castle, when a brutal accident kills Patton. Patton wakes as a ghost and meets friendly ghoul Roman, who has been haunting the castle for 20 years. Virgil is determined to bring Patton back to life and brings Logan, the ghost expert, to help him out. Time is quickly running out, and the four must work together to undo death. If only it was as simple as Logan made it sound.
Unknown to them, a secret entity in the castle does not plan on letting them succeed.
First Chapter  Previous Chapter  Next Chapter
Anyone normal who did what Virgil did, especially at his age, would twist and turn at night with hellish dreams of ghouls and demons. Staring at the crooked flyer on the school hallway wall, with zombified cliques of high schoolers shoving their way around him, Virgil fantasized about being one of the common. There on the wall, the flyer advertised a poetry competition offered to any student interested.
Why was it that he could explore hallways blanketed in dark blacker than night and reach out to the dead without second thought; but when it came to contemplating a flyer, his heart hammered and his palms drowned in sweat?
Call to the unknown realm of the afterlife alone? Sure. Virgil could handle it. The mere thought of submitting his writing to a bunch of old ladies who would read thousands of entries and wouldnât even remember his name? Someone get the vomit bag ready.
A gentle nudge of his shoulder made Virgil leap four feet in the air, landing tense and uncoordinated. âGeez, Patton. Way to sneak up on a guy.â
Patton had the decency to look sheepish. âWhatâs got you all tense, Kiddo?â
âNothing.â Virgil dismissed. Patton followed Virgilâs eyes, which were still lingering on the poetry flyer.
âA poetry competition, huh?â Patton inquired, pointing out the obvious. âThat sounds right up your alley!â
Virgil would be lying if he denied he had a certain aptitude for poetry. He had started with angsty, nightmarish poems-that to this day he refused to read-and had fleshed out his skill and passion from there.
It wasnât the writing of the words that spoke to him; it was more their rhythm. Whatever he felt, he could create. A steady beat in iambic pentameter or a free style collage of metaphors and raw feeling, clashing with no sense or rhyme. Dyslexic or not, Virgilâs mind had an aptitude in passionate worded rhythm.
The thing with the power of his poetry being unlocked through the tones and wavelengths of his voice was that Virgil had to speak in order to show it. What Virgil gained through the potential strength in his words, he lacked in execution.
âPat, Iâm okay at poetry. Iâm definitely not good enough for a serious competition. Itâd be setting myself up for failure.â Virgil dismissed. Still, his eyes remained locked on the flyer.
Virgil was awful at public speaking. He could just imagine the way he would shrink into himself, quieting his words until the microphone couldnât pick it up. Silencing his message.
âYou never know if you never try.â Patton encouraged.
It wasnât certain that he would even make it to the opportunity of performance. The judges may gloss over his poem and toss it in the fiery trash pile. He wouldnât even be given a shot.
Virgil rolled his eyes shook his head irately. âIâm good.â
Patton shrugged. âIf you say so.â He proceeded to rip the flyer off of the wall, holding it gently in his hands. Maintaining innocent eye contact with Virgil, he smoothed out the rumpled edges of the flyer and lifted Virgilâs hand, twisting his palm upwards.
He dropped the flyer into Virgilâs hand, having the nerve to bat his eyes innocently with a casual stance. Meeting Virgilâs incredulous gaze, he winked. âIn case you change your mind.â
Virgil shook his head exasperatedly, lips twitching upwards. âIâll be at your house to pick you up at four. Remyâs driving us. Be ready.â
Patton mock saluted, then broke out into a freckled grin and waved goodbye.
Virgilâs house was a relatively quick walk from school. Nonetheless, the Florida heat made Virgilâs hoodie glue to his back with sweat and smudged his cheap eyeliner. By the time he got home, he had clown paint running down his flushed cheeks, which he couldnât even wipe away because of his damp, long hair affixed around his eyes. His armpit stains could serve as a swimming pool for bugs and small birds.
If there was any way to drive the unbearable temperature away, a shadowy silhouette sitting in his house was one way to do it. Virgil felt his blood run cold as ice shot up his veins, freezing his movements. His heart jutted wildly in his chest as Virgil slowly cracked open the door and wildly scanned the room.
As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Virgil spied a large cup that surely did not belong to him sitting idly next to the stranger. Sitting on the bridge of the strangerâs nose, as he sat alone in the dark room, was the outline of sunglasses.
Virgil rammed his hand into the light switch by the door with narrowly controlled rage. His blood fused from frozen to boiling as he slammed the door shut behind him.
âRemy! What the hell are you doing in my house?â
Remy give Virgil a half-witted acknowledgement, granting him a grunt. âWatching Netflix?â
Tucked in Remyâs lap was a device slightly emitting a soft glow, only visible when Remy lowered his hands from the sides of the phone. âIn the dark? In my house?â Virgil dubiously accused.
Remy shrugged. âHow else would you watch a horror movie?â
Virgilâs fury was fueled by Remyâs nonchalance. âYou absolute psycho! You donât go into peopleâs houses and sit in the dark without letting them know!â Virgil fumed. âAnd you know who watches horror movies alone in the dark? Serial killers! Is that what you are, Remy? A serial killer? Because youâre sure as hell as psycho as one!â
Remy gazed at Virgil as he ranted, mildly bored. When Virgil finished his rant, huffing and puffing for air, Remy took an exaggerated sip from his Starbucks cup, raising an eyebrow. âYou done?â
âIâll tell you what Iâm done with. Iâm done with you.â Virgil shot back.
âThank goodness! Might I hope done enough with me to not need a two hour ride to your knockoff castle?â
âYouâve sure got me thinking about it.â
âA word of advice: You shouldnât think about things.â Remy teased. âDangerous things happen when you do.â
âIâll show you what danger is if you donât carry all my things to the car and start driving in the next two minutes.â But, Virgil had begun to untense, and his words were losing spite.
âAlright, sis. You win, you win.â Remy relented, putting his hands up in mock defense. âAnd oh, by the way. Your wifi sucks ass.â
The car ride had been quiet, at least to Virgil, whose headphones were locked on his head to block out the animated chatting of Remy and Patton. Virgil focused on the journal in front of him filled with half-completed thoughts and scratched out phrases, gnawing at his pen nervously.
A persistent poking on Virgilâs shoulder snapped him out of his jumbled mindset. Patton was giving him an eager look, as if he had been requesting Virgilâs attention for a while. Virgil raised one muff off his ear, humming in acknowledgement.
âWhat you working on?â Patton asked, pointing at the rundown journal balanced on Virgilâs knee. Virgil almost instinctively shut the journal, but remembered who he was talking to. âJust some writing.â
Patton didnât probe further, and Virgil was grateful for that. But, Patton knew Virgil better than anyone. The poetry flyer weighed heavy in the supplies bag Virgil had stuffed it in last minute.
He wasnât giving the competition any serious thought. But, it felt good to write. To create a calm rhythm on paper to relax him. So why did he keep putting his work up to par with professional standards when he usually just wrote for himself?
Virgil sighed. The poetry competition was getting to his head and it should be the least thing he was focused on. Beyond the competition, there was a stronger itch that Virgil could not ignore anymore.
âPat, letâs go over it one more time. Just so that thereâs no questions when we get there.â Virgil suggested, already opening the notes app on his phone. Â
Virgil not so much saw but felt Remy roll his eyes; however, Patton nodded encouragingly.
âWeâre investigating the New Prince Castle.â Virgil broached. âIt was a family run business that gave kids a âmedieval experienceâ by giving them roles like kings or jests. The night that the family was murdered, there were five employees working.â
âThe two parents, their two sons Roman and Declan Prince, and Romanâs husband, Thomas Sanders.â Patton listed.
âRight. All five employees were murdered, but due to the remaining familyâs request for confidentiality, the details of the murder we never released to the public. What we do know is that the day the murder took place, the New Prince Castle was closed for renovations and guarded, with cameras on the outside that caught no one slipping in.â
Patton scrunched his nose in confusion. âSo they caught no one sneaking in?â
âRight.â Virgil confirmed. âWhich can mean three things. Either someone has extremely lucky; had extensive knowledge of the security cameras and the guards shifts; or our killer was already inside to begin with.
âYou think it could have been an inside job?â Patton gasped.
Abruptly, the car jerked to a stop and Virgilâs laptop hopped from his lap onto the matted floor. The car halted on an empty path that stretched forward for miles.
âWhat the hell, Remy? How about a bit of a warning next time?â
Silence echoed through the small car.
Virgil rolled his eyes and leaned forward to wave his hand in front of Remy. âHello? Earth to the maniac driver responsible for the safety of two teenagers.â
Remy snapped out of his daze, meeting Virgilâs eyes through the rearview mirror and gaving him a tight smile. âSorry, but youâre ruining my vibe. Youâd be distracted too if murder and deceit was constantly being blabbed in your ear.â
âNo oneâs telling you to listen.â Virgil retorted, settling back into his seat. When the car refused to move, Virgil kicked the driverâs seat. âDrive, Rem. We have a castle to get to.â
âSomethings are better left alone.â Remy muttered, and Virgil flipped him off in intelligent response.
Agonizingly slow, Remy pressed the accelerator until they matched their previous pace. Virgil shared a perplexed glance with Pattonâs worried one. After minutes of twitchy silence that Virgil couldnât find the source of, Patton spoke up.
âDo you think weâll get any answers?â Patton wondered hesitantly.
Virgil shrugged, grateful for the break in quiet. âMaybe.â In all honesty, every investigation made his chances feel more and more slim. Virgil hadnât caught any ground-breaking proof of the paranormal. There was voices, sounds, and unexplainable occurrences. But science freaks were stubborn. Virgil would have to catch something good-really good-to be taken seriously.
Patton cheered, âMaybe I could be your good luck charm!â
Virgil smirked in possible agreement and a more comfortable hush settled. He turned his attention to the window. The sun was bright and glared against the glass-they should make it to the castle with hours to spare.
The woods seemed to stretch on indefinitely. The trees were thick and sturdy; they formed a woody wall on both sides of the road. It both unsettled and calmed Virgil as they continued their travels.
A sudden yell broke the peace. âArgh! No, no no!â Remy exclaimed, slamming his fist on the wheel.
Virgil snapped his head away from the window worriedly. The gas engine huffed and puffed in desperation as the car slowly treaded to a halt.
âNow what?â Virgil cried. âWe werenât even talking about murder!â
No, itâs not you.â Remy ran his hand through his thick, shiny hair. âWeâre out of gas.â
âYou didnât pour gas before we left?â Patton asked.
âI could have sworn I had a full tank.â Remy mumbled, ferociously tapping the fuel gauge.
âYou should have double checked!â Virgil criticized. âWeâre in the middle of nowhere, Remy!â
âOkay, you need to take a chill pill. I can call a tow.â Remy reasoned.
âWhat about the investigation?â Patton pointed out.
Remy shrugged. âYou can just visit your haunted house next weekend.â
Virgil shook his head angrily. âNo, Remy! Next weekend is prom, and the week after that we graduate! We need-â Virgil paused, taking a deep breath. âWe need to do this now.â
Patton tapped Virgilâs shoulder and pointed at the carâs GPS map. âItâs only a few miles. We can walk.â
Remy spluttered. âOnly? Thatâs two hours of walking in these woods! Gurl, youâre crazy. Weâre calling a tow.â
As much as Virgil wanted to argue, the thought of two teenagers walking alone in the woods seemed like a clichĂŠ setup to a horror story he did not want to play part in.
âWe can make it with daylight to spare.â Patton argued. âNothing is going to happen to us. This used to be a tourist spot, remember? Nice and kid-friendly.â
âI donât know Patton.â Virgil squirmed, unresolved.
âYou stay in haunted places alone, kiddo! Taking a nice scenic stroll with your bestie is a walk in the park!â
Virgil mulled over his friendâs positive logic. âWe could do some investigation along the wayâŚâ
âAnd itâs not like weâre alone-weâll probably run into some families camping or something on the way.â Patton added helpfully.
As Virgil mulled the thought over, it seemed to make sense. He had Patton and Remy was a phone call away. The castle wasnât too far. Truly, what choice did he have? This was something Virgil and Patton had to do before graduation. As Patton had put it, it was âone last big adventure.â
âAlright.â Virgil conceded, convinced. âGet your stuff from the trunk.â
âYâall are crazy. Absolutely insane.â Â Remy blustered as Patton lifted the trunk open and Virgil stuffed his journal and laptop into his overused bag. âWhy donât you do your nerd research on somewhere spooky closer to home and Iâll drop you off there tomorrow?â
âSorry, Rem.â Virgil apologized, slamming the trunk shut affirmatively.
âHow are you getting home?â Patton asked, uncomfortably trying to balance his bag in one hand and suitcase in the other. Â âDid you even bring money to pay for a tow?â
Remy waved his hand dismissively. âI know a guy.â
Patton smiled and wrapped his arms around Remy gratefully. âBe safe, kiddo.â
Remy pat his back before untangling himself from Pattonâs grasp. âGurl, donât call me kiddo. I may not look it, but I am a dinosaur compared to you two wild cats.â
Patton stepped away to leave Virgil and his unofficial guardian some privacy. Remy huffed, crossing his arms. âIf you tell your parents I left you and your dad friend alone in the woods I will personally make sure ghosts are the least of your worries.â
Virgil mimed zipping his lips and tossing the key before stuffing his hands in his pockets. Hesitating, he asked, âRemy, youâre okay, right? Like, youâre done being weird?â
Remy chuckled, but his shoulders remained tense. âSis, Iâm gonna be honest. Do I like the thought of leaving you alone to investigate some shifty castle? Of course not. I donât mind your haunted houses or mysterious abandoned sex dungeons or whatever. But this castle?â Remy trailed off ambiguously.
Virgil squinted his eyes in contemplation. âHave you been to the castle before?â
âWhen I was a kid,â Remy explained. âIt gave meâŚâ Remy cut himself off, as if he couldnât find the right word, and shook his head distractedly, âNot good vibes.â
Virgil softly smacked Remyâs shoulder, wanting to snap the drama queen out of whatever uncanny mood had struck him. âI get you. Itâs a weird abandoned castle that used to be run by some extra family who thought it was still medieval times. Weâll be careful.â
âYeah.â Remy clapped his hands together, then smirked. âI filled my mushy quota for the next year, at least. Go on and talk to your demons or whatever.â Remy teased. âJust do me a solid and donât let me know if you find any âevidence.â That castle has got me spooked enough.â
Virgil faked giving Remyâs request some thought. âWeâll see how I feel.â
âSeriously, Virge!â Remy protested.
Virgil raised his hands in acquiescence, yielding to Remyâs chicken request. Giving Remy a final goodbye salute, he strode to where Patton was waiting and entertaining himself with kicking a pebble from foot to foot.
When Virgil arrived, Patton greeted him with a questioning eyebrow raise and a not-so-subtle glance at Remy. Virgil shrugged off his concern with a nonchalant head shake. Remy truly was odd without his coffee.
âWe should start heading now just so that weâre sure weâve got enough daylight.â Virgil determined, beginning to tread forward on the side of the road. Patton eagerly followed in suit with one last wave to their melodramatic ex-driver.
Clapping his hands giddily, Patton beamed, âNew Prince Castle, here we come!â
Taglist:
@suspicious-sweaters @septicstarlight
Special thanks to @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors for helping me out with the tag list and linking!
#thomas sanders#sander sides#thomas sanders fanfic#sanders sides fanfiction#remy sanders#patton sanders#roman sanders#logan sanders#virgil sanders#deceit sanders#LAMP#CALM#fluff#angst
4 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Sanders Sides Animation!
Iâm going to officially open up applications!
Based on a majority vote, we will choose an episode of Sanders Sides to animate/storyboard. Artists will be put into a group chat where the options will be given.
How do you become an artist?
Post a reference of your work and tag me @sosasketch. Make the title of your work âAnimation Applicationâ so I can easily find you. You have until June 23, (3 days!) to apply. Applications will close June 23, 11:59 PM, EST.
How will the work be split?
The episode will be split up into different clips. The number of clips each artist will be assigned will be equally split depending on the amount of artists we have. There will be periodical deadlines to make sure work is being done. If you cannot meet a deadline because of personal matters, contact me and weâll work it out.
How detailed do I have to be?
Obviously it is not expected of you to make a detailed, shaded, perfect animation or drawing. That would take too much time and it would overwork you. You DO, however, need to lineart you work. Coloring is appreciated but NOT NECESSARY if you donât have the time.
Can I participate if I can draw, but not animate?
Of course! You can storyboard-which I assume many animators will be doing instead of a full-fledged animation. All artists are welcomed!
What if I donât have a digital program?
There are many free digital programs you can download. If you want to do it by paper, just scan your work and send it to me. Contact me with further questions.
How much creative liberty do I have?
Almost unlimited! What do I mean by that?
-Full animation, storyboard, or anywhere in between.
-Sides can be drawn in personal style. (They donât need to look like Thomas!)
-Lip sync or no lip sync
-Detailed or simple
-Etc
Will I be given credit?
Of course! As well as being credit in the end credits, a watermark of your name or username will be added to your work. I will also link any social media you want in the credits.
Will I, Sosasketch, be participating?
Yep! Iâve been animating for a few years. You can see some of my work at the bottom of this post.
How can I help if Iâm not an artist?
Share, share, share! The more people the better. Post a link to this page on your social media or tell your friends.
This project cannot happen without enough people or dedication. If we are undermanned the project will be cancelled-Iâm not looking to overwork anyone.
The same goes for people who quit, slack, or constantly refuses to meet deadlines. Weâre a team and are all held to the same standards. If you know you wonât have the time, thatâs okay! There are no hard feelings. Donât sign up for something you cannot keep up with.
With that said, I really hope we can make this happen! Send me those applications and please share this post!
1 note
¡
View note
Text
Hey! Sorry Iâve been inactive recently, but Iâve been working on new ideas; including my new project, Tales for Trevor.
With my fundraiser Tales for Trevor, when you donate I will write you a tale. With as a little donation of $1 you can get the narrative of your fantasies personally written for you.
Click the link, donate, and send me the information/specifics of your story and Iâll have it to you asap. All proceeds go directly to The Trevor Project.
The Trevor Project is dedicated to saving the lives of LGBTQ+ young people. They offer crisis services, resources, and education and are the largest advocates for LGBTQ+ individuals.
Whether you donate or not, please repost this! Any help counts, especially when it comes to helping this lifesaving organization.
Below the donation amounts and story lengths are specified. :)

4 notes
¡
View notes
Photo

Females in Dhaka are guarded by teenage students after several girls were raped by officials of the Bangladeshi government for protesting against dangerous roads.
71K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Fright or Flight: Chapter 2
Parings: Prinxiety // Logicality // Platonic LAMP
Story Summary: Virgil and Patton investigate the New Prince Castle, when a brutal accident kills Patton. Patton wakes as a ghost and meets friendly ghoul Roman, who has been haunting the castle for 20 years. Virgil is determined to bring Patton back to life and brings Logan, the ghost expert, to help him out. Time is quickly running out, and the four must work together to undo death. If only it was as simple as Logan made it sound.
Unknown to them, a secret entity in the castle does not plan on letting them succeed.
Previous Chapter  Next ChapterÂ
When Patton first met Virgil, his last intention was to become friends with him. Virgil had built up a notorious reputation over the first few months of school, and his grades did nothing to disprove his status. Patton wasnât the type to judge a personâs character based on rumors nor looks. No one was a higher believer in the benefit of doubt than Patton! However, Virgilâs first impression did not help his case.
Virgil transferred into Pattonâs English class the second semester due to a schedule change. When the teacher stated a new team project was to be completed, Patton did not shy away from offering to be Virgilâs partner. He understood how difficult it could be being the new kid in a class full of friends and cliques.
The project was hefty, an collection of novel analyzing, essays, vocabulary, and journal entries. Patton was not looking forward to the Shakespearean project-Shakespeareâs language was alien to him. It occurred to Patton that pairing up with the soon-to-be-dropout may not have been his best idea. Nonetheless, Patton refused to be jaded.
The first day of the project, Virgil refused to touch the work.
âThereâs no way Iâm touching this project.â Virgil sneered. âEspecially about Shakespeare.â
âHuh?â Patton had not fully processed Virgilâs words. âIs it because you donât understand it?â
âSure.â
âNeither can I! I guess Shakespeare really has our brains shaken up! Maybe we can ask the teacher to go over it for us?â
The teen huffed and shook his head. Virgil laid his head on the wooden desk and his eyes slipped closed. He napped for the rest of the period.
His behavior continued for weeks. Patton had tried everything in his power to get Virgil to help him out. Pattonâs seemingly endless supply of compliments and encouraging gestures served no help.
Pattonâs mind had conjured countless excuses for Virgil since Virgil himself refused to give one. At the beginning the excuses had seemed feasible. Lack of sleep? Family issues? However, by week three, Patton was already scraping the bottom of the barrel, trying to justify Virgilâs dismissive attitude with clones and possible mind control. Virgil was no closer to lifting up a pencil, there were ten days left of the project, and Patton still understood little to nothing about Shakespeare. Patton was flying solo and time was ticking.
The final week before the project was due, Patton caught the flu.
Patton would chalk up the flu to the top three sucky sicknesses of his lifetime. His fever was raging, his skin drowning in sweat while the insides of him iced over. Patton couldnât tell when being awake ended and when sleep began. The only alarm in Pattonâs body was the churning in his gut that rushed him to the toilet.
Understandably, the project was the last thing on his mind.
Patton would not remember his Shakespeare mission until the Sunday before it was due, when he was shaking off the final remnants of the flu. The realization hit him like a train, but by the time he went flying off his bed and hurriedly logging on to his computer to check the time, Patton knew it was hopeless. There was no way he could get the project done in a few hours and counting. Not when all his energy was going into fighting of sneezes and headaches.
Patton was dejectedly scrolling through his email filled with newsletters from adoption sites and animal protection agencies when a subject line caught his eye: âEnglish Project.â Linked to the email were word documents and an audio file. Perplexedly, Patton opened the email.
From: [email protected]
Subject: English Project
Patton,
so apparently youâve been sick. class is way more quiet without you their, which is wierd.
i think i did everything you hadnât done. itâs gonna be really mispelled and confusing and shit. sorry. iâm not the best with righting. feel free to fix anything.
get well soon.
-V
p.s. sorry for acting like a jerk. i owe you a explanation monday.
Patton hugged his computer screen and laugh with relief. He had no idea why Virgil was so nervous. His ideas were brilliant. A week later, Patton would see an A in his gradebook for the Shakespeare project.
There was a reason why Patton never lost faith in people.
True to his word, the next week Virgil explained his mistreatment to Patton. Virgil struggled with dyslexia. While he was getting tutoring in overcoming his learning disability, Virgilâs writing made him incredibly insecure. His old teacher always let him work individually, but the new teacher wasnât having it. Before class, the teacher pulled him aside and told Virgil he was no different from any other student and would have to work with a partner. Virgil, determined to spite the teacher and anxious to seem like an âidiotâ in front of Patton, would pretend to sleep the whole period.
âAll your writing took was a quick grammar fix. The ideas were so good! Iâm not just saying that to say that, they actually were! I could never think of something like that.â Patton reassured enthusiastically.
Virgil flushed a bright red. âI didnât do much. Shakespeare is a lot easier to understand with audio.â
Patton listened to the audiobook of Macbeth that night. Virgil clearly wasnât giving himself enough credit.
Virgil and Patton quickly grew close once the project was done. Virgil was still quiet, snappy, moody, and detrimentally insecure, but he began to open up more as the months went on. By senior year, Patton and Virgil was joined at the hip. Two peas in a pod.
Virgil had grown a lot since freshman year.
Being joined at the hip with Virgil meant that Patton got to understand Virgil by the simplest change in body language or expression. It also meant that Patton became aquatinted with anyone close to Virgil.
Patton already had a bad feeling while Virgilâs tone had shifted on the phone the night they were chatting about yearbook quotes. Remy sending Patton a text only confirmed the ball of dread in his stomach.
Rem: pat can we talk ?
Patton: You donât even have to ask! Everything ok?
Rem: itâs about v
Rem: have you guys talked recently ? out of school
Patton: We talked last weekend. Over the phone. Why? Is Virgil fine??
Rem: idk. he came over to my house a couple nights ago at like 5 am. talked about some ghost shit.
Patton: He woke you up to talk about ghosts??(language!)
Rem: looking for affirmation that he wasnât some obsessed ghost freak. i told him nah
Rem: but tbh he kinda is obsessed
Patton: He is passionate about his ghosts! But thatâs not a bad thing.
Rem: v strongly disagrees. the whole thing about the yearbook and ghost quotes really messed with his head
Patton: I didnât mean anything bad by it! It was just an idea! I promise! Iâll apologize to him!!!
Rem: wait no thats not what im saying. no one blames u
Rem: is he doing any ghost stuff anytime soon
Patton: Yep. Heâs going to visit a castle!
Patton: Is that bad?
Rem: donât you remember last time v became paranoid abt something? he pulled some real stupid stuff just to prove ppl wrong
Patton: Yeah. I know.
Patton: Gosh now Iâm worried :(
Rem: i just dont want him doing anything heâll regret on the trip. can u justâŚidk watch out for him pls ? ik v can take care of himself. but sometimes he gets into this headspace thatâs self-destructive
Rem: tbh i dont like his ghost stuff as it is. i dont need him doing something dumb either
Patton: I understand Rem. Thatâs really sweet of you <3 <3
Patton: Iâll look out for him! I promise!!!! :-) :-)
Rem: ty. dont tell v abt this convo tho
Despite feeling uneasy about it, Patton understood Remyâs request to keep silent. Telling Virgil about their conversation would only push Virgil away and make him defensive. Itâd be impossible to look out for him.
Virgil had already given Patton a way in. Patton had to talk to Logan for Virgil and get any supplies he might need. Patton loved visiting Logan in and of itself. Maybe Logan could help him out.
Loganâs business was located near small shops clustered along the beach. It was a hotspot for tourists, where knickknacks and souvenirs were sold and expensive attractions were advertised. Patton walked along here with Virgil sometimes, stopping at the arcade or mirror maze. Patton had met some of the most interesting people in the small touristy town.
Among the attractions was a dark blue shingled building with a pointy-roofed top. Painted letters on a wooden board spelt out âAfterlife Exposed.â Patton stepped through the door and a bell gently ringed, signaling his arrival.
At the sound of the bell, a tall, dark-haired man turned around. His navy suit blended in with the darkness of the shop. The manâs lean body was captivated beautifully in the suit. Patton quickly averted his eyes, blushing furiously.
âI have been expecting you-oh. Greetings, Patton. What a surprise.â
âHi Logan!â Patton waved enthusiastically. âWho were you expecting?â
âNo one. Itâs a new rule Father has implemented. I must say it to every customer to âset the mood,â as he calls it.â Logan dragged his hand over his face exasperatedly. âI find it quite ridiculous. But business shall be business.â
Loganâs father technically owned Afterlife Exposed. But he was always hidden in the back, gathering supplies or experimenting. Logan was currently studying entrepreneurship in college in order to take over the family business someday.
âHow may I help you today, Patton?â Logan inquired, stepping around the counter to stand in front of him. He was even taller up close.
Patton filled Logan in about the New Prince Castle family murder and Virgilâs plan to investigate the castle for one of his ghost routines. Logan nodded politely the whole way through.
âI see. What an intriguing case. What exactly does he need from me?â
Patton shrugged cluelessly. âAnything you think might help, I guess.â
âWhatâs his budget?â
âA coffee and cake pop from Starbucks, if he uses his gift card.â
Logan rolled his eyes. âAnd he sent you to purchase something from here? Why, he couldnât even afford a keychain.â
âCome on, Logan! Heâs one of your most loyal customers and between us, heâs going through a rough patch. Canât you help him out? Please?â
Logan massaged his temples and sighed. âPatton, itâs just not something the business can afford to do right now. My Father and I have been dealing with a sort of rough patch as well. You and Virgil have my sincerest apologies-truly, you do.â
Patton nodded dejectedly, âI understand.â Spotting Loganâs hesitant expression and tense form, he rested a hand on Loganâs shoulder and grinned. âReally, I do. I donât blame you.â
Logan gave a small, tight-lipped smile in return. Gently shaking Pattonâs hand off his shoulder, he clasped his hands together tightly. âWell, is there anything else I can do for you?â
âIâm not too sure.â Patton pursed his lips in thought. âWell, actually. I was wondering if you could tell me the dos and donâts of ghost hunting. The yays and nays. The cats and dogs-actually no scratch that, both of those would be a yay.â
âWith all due respect, Patton, I think Virgil has got that covered.â Logan reassured. âHe must have asked me a dozen times prior to his first investigation.â
âOh yeah, I know. Itâs for me.â Patton corrected.
Logan raised an eyebrow in perplexion. Patton had never shown an interest in ghost hunting when Virgil wasnât to be found.
Patton thought quickly. âI just want to understand more. For when I talk to Virgil. Sometimes I really donât get half the explanations coming from the kiddoâs mouth.â It wasnât a lie. âJustâŚhow do you deal with ghosts?
âI see.â Logan clicked his tongue. âIâm sure Virgil could explain it to you more in depth. But, if youâre ever in doubt, chalk it up to one thing: respect. Is what youâre doing respecting the afterlife and their home? Are you portraying common courtesy? Treat them with the same respect as the living, if not more. There are exceptions, as with anything, but for the most part, that should keep you out of trouble with spirits.â
âRespect.â Patton repeated.
âYou have strong morals, Patton. If youâre concerned about involvement with the afterlife due to your closeness with Virgil, I would not worry. Lack of respect is the last of your weaknesses.â
Logan pulled out his phone from the back of his pocket. âI apologize, I must return to my work. However, if you or Virgil have any more questions, feel free to give me a call.â
Patton gushed and thanked Logan, jotting down his number. Logan flushed a gentle red and held out his hand for a handshake.
âPleasure doing business with you, Patton.â
Patton swatted Loganâs hand away and brought him in for a hug. âThank you, Logan.â
Logan awkwardly pat Patton on the back before ungracefully untangling himself from the embrace. âI was only doing my job. Now, I understand itâs none of my business, but I recommend getting some rest. You look exhausted.â
âHigh school has permanently carved bags under my eyes.â Patton shook his head defeatedly.
Logan gave an amused smirk. âYou sounded like Virgil.â
Patton beamed. âLike father, like son!â
Just as Patton was about to turn around to leave the store, something in the corner of the room glistened, catching his eye. âHey Logan? Just one more thing?â
Logan hummed at him, encouraging Patton to continue.
He pointed to the object at the corner of the room. âHow much can I get that for?â
 âWalkie-talkies. I sent you to Logan Berry, one of the smartest, most knowledgeable people about the afterlife in this town, and you come back with a Ghost Buster walkie-talkie.â Virgil grunted, dangling the toy by its antennae.
âYou can have the Casper the Ghost one instead.â
âWhat? No! Ghost Busters is better, anyway.â Virgil groaned. âThatâs not the point. How about advice? Did Logan say anything?â
âJust to respect the ghosts. Have common courtesy. Which you better be doing anyway, even without Logan telling you to do so.â
Virgil threw his hands up in exasperation and fell down into his sofa as the cushions engulfed the skinny man. âObviously I respect them! The last thing I need is coming home possessed and cursed! He knows I know that. Thatâs really all he said?â
âBesides giving us his number.â Patton confirmed. âWhich I already gave you.â
Virgil grumbled. âWhatever. One day Iâll get enough money to- wait. The walkie-talkies. Thereâs no way you could have bought them with my money, I would not have had enough. Please donât tell meâŚâ
Virgil got a glance of Pattonâs sheepish look and groaned. âPatton, we have a rule! No buying each other anything!â He buried his head in his hands. âI canât pay you back. You know that.â
âHeyâŚâ Patton took a seat next to Virgil and laid a comforting hand on his knee. âItâs okay. They werenât expensive. You donât have to pay me back.â
Virgil looked at Patton in between his fingers. His voice was muffled against his palms. âYou know how I feel about that, Pat.â
âVirgil, come on.â Patton pleaded.
Virgil shook his head. âThank you. But, you need to return them.â
Guilty silence settled among the two, but neither made a move to leave. Both were lost in their own worlds when an idea struck Patton.
He nudged Virgil. âI know a way for you to pay me back without money.â At Virgilâs unimpressed look, he protested, âSeriously! It would mean a lot more to me than whatever these walkie-talkies cost.â
âYea?â Virgil lifted his head from his hands. âWhat is it?â
Patton stared at Virgilâs stormy eyes as his heart pounded. In all honesty, this was the last thing Patton wanted to do. He was terrified. But, he thought back to the conversation he had with Remy, and the last time Virgil did something senseless unsupervised due to paranoia. âI want to go ghost hunting with you. At the New Prince Castle.â
Virgilâs jaw dropped. His eyes darted around Pattonâs face before he shook his head and gave a weak chuckle. âSure, Pat. Whatever you say.â
âNo, Iâm serious!â Patton insisted. âIâll respect the ghosts and do whatever you tell me to do!â
Virgil was dismissing Patton before he could finish his sentence. âNo, no, no. You hate ghost stories, Pat! Especially ones that are spooky and gruesome. Youâd hate ghost-hutning. Itâs dark and thereâs lots of weird noises and tons of spiders. No way. Iâm not adding more guilt to my conscience.â
Virgil made a move to get up from the sofa, but Patton refused to let the conversation drop. He grabbed Virgilâs hand and pulled him back to the seat. Virgil landed with a clumsy thump. Â
âKiddo, I know I hate all those things. Iâm sure Iâll be scared. But, youâll be there too! I love you more than I hate all those things combined.â
âPatton, we can do something else together. Go to the movies. Or bowling. Normal teen stuff.â Virgil reasoned.
Patton retorted, âBut ghost hunting is important to you.â
âItâs not that important. Itâs a simple hobby. I donât care that much about it.â Virgil cut off.
âI know, I know!â Patton quickly backtracked. âWhat I meant was that ghost-hunting has been a cool way for us to bond. It intrigues you-a perfectly normal amount-and I like seeing you happy! Just like you go walking with me along the shops by the beach even though itâs super crowded and you hate it.â
âPatton, whatâs your point?â Virgil grilled.
âMy point is I want to try this thing that you enjoy with you. Just like you try things for me. Itâs senior year, Virgil. No one hates thinking about it more than me, but we donât know what things are going to be like after high school. I want to find a husband, start a family. Maybe study veterinary science. You could have a publisher for your writing, become a famous author, and move. I want to do this with you. I want to get over my fear.â
Patton stared at Virgil hopefully and held out his hand. âWhat do you say? One more big adventure for the dynamic duo?â
Virgil stared at Patton, looked down and roughly shook his head, froze, then stared at Patton once more. Virgilâs foot rapidly tapped against the floor, creating a dizzy, distracting melody. Finally, Virgil pulled his hair and glared at Patton. âYouâll be careful?â
Patton nodded eagerly.
âAnd youâll stick with me no matter what? At all times? I want you in my sight.â
Virgil dramatically groaned, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. âI guess you can come.â
Patton shot up from his seat, whooping with joy and hopping around the sofa. âThank you, Virgil! Thank you! Weâre going to have such a great time!â
Virgil peeked one eye open and gave a soft grin. âYeah, I guess we are. Youâre sure you wanna do this?â
âNever been more sure of anything in my life besides my love for you and cats! I pinkie swear it.â
Patton and Virgil intertwined pinkies before Patton winked and let go, embracing Virgil.
âLet your moms know youâre going to be gone for the weekend.â Virgil smirked. âWe have a haunted castle to explore.â
#sanders sides#thomas sanders#sanders sides fanfiction#roman sanders#logan sanders#patton sanders#virgil sanders#remy sanders#deceit sanders#LAMP#CALM#platonic lamp#hurt/comfort#family fluff#fluff#logicality#prinxiety
7 notes
¡
View notes
Text








â¤ď¸đ§Ąđ Faith in humanity restored đđ§Ąâ¤ď¸
9K notes
¡
View notes