Character!talyn - Tumblr Posts
E.V.O.L Chapter 2 - On No!
Chapter Summary: Logan is finally done with his workday and can now retire to his living quarter upstairs. He starts reviewing his notes for the day only to find a few inconsistencies and a startling conclusion...
Warnings: Beginnings of Yandere like behavior, mentions of stalking, emotional breakdown, breaking of objects.
Pairings: One-sided analogical.
Word Count: 4k+
Chapter followed by Author’s Note then Tag List under the read more:
One track mind, one track heart.
If I fail, I'll fall apart.
Maybe it is all a test.
'Cause I feel like I'm the worst,
So I always act like I'm the best.
Logan Sumner, self proclaimed magical child prodigy and warlock extraordinaire, always had three cups of coffee throughout his typical work day. One cup before breakfast, one in the middle of lunch, and finally one after his dinner. Dr Sumner was well known in the magical community as a stickler for his routine and the outbursts that were sure to follow if anything trivial ever dared to interrupt said routine. Though the particular interruptions that had occurred earlier that day hadn’t bothered him nearly as much as they should have. Almost as if-
He tightened his lips and jerkily shook his head to rid himself of that train of thought before it could even leave the station. Instead, he steered ever sturdily and steadily forward and into his quaint dining room table’s only occupying chair. It was time for dinner, after all. He whistled out into the air of the sparsely decorated apartment atop his shop for his two wonderful and trustworthy Familiars.
Moriariy, punctual as per usual, was the first to join him. Flying in from the direction of his bedroom and landing at the other end of the table, where a small plate of little seeds and several lush fruits awaited him. His other Familiar, however, followed along at his typical slower pace. Slinking in from the direction of the stairwell and stopping beside him at the foot of the table, where a larger plate of tenderly cooked meats awaited him.
“Did you have a good run, Sheppard?” Logan asks the Valravn as he runs a gentle hand along the canine’s back.
Sheppard, who was slightly more wild in nature than the Yatagarasu, would occasionally leave the shop for the later half of their work day in order to have a refreshing romp in the nearest forest- the one just outside of Painic Park. Logan never once worried over his return, for his Familiars had never failed him before. Which is one of the many reasons he got along better with them than with his other, more humanoid peers.
The handsome pitch black wolf with scattered feathers along his form, bird’s talons as front legs, and a sharp beak perched at the end of his snout gave a tired out, low swooping nod at the query. His warlock gave him a quick pat on the head for his reply and turned away to focus on his own meal.
It was a hearty and well balanced dinner of steak and salad, yet Logan could not help but feel as though he was craving something else entirely different. Perhaps it was the usual pull towards his work he so often felt? Nodding along to the notion, he picked up his cutlery in order to dig in. One cannot think well on an empty stomach, as the saying goes. Once he began eating, his polite and surprisingly patient Familiars began to eat their own meals as well.
After dinner he immediately washes the small amount of dishes used during the day. It was best not to let them pile up too much, as he was a man that loathed disorder and messiness.
Moriarty swooped in to help place the assorted plates and glasses back on the shelves while Sheppard strode his way over to the living room to lay between Logan’s grey loveseat and the small brick fireplace. Knowing full well that that seat was where Logan would be spending the next couple of hours as he casually went over the day’s work.
Moriarty, on the other hand, would spend the time flitting between nesting on the cushion beside him, perching on the back of the loveseat, and resting himself upon Logan’s shoulder. His movements were easily predictable for Logan, who hardly ever got startled by the bird. Well, with the exception of…
The warlock pinched the bridge of his nose as he made his own way into the living room while holding his last cup of coffee of the day, sending Moriarty a look that somehow managed to be questioning, exasperated, and fond all rolled into one as he passed by him.
Why had the bird practically launched himself towards their newest client? Normally, if his Familiars invaded a strangers personal space so abruptly upon first meeting them then that meant that they saw them as a threat and were acting fast to protect their warlock. But that had apparently not been the case at all! Moriarity had....had proceeded to cuddle the darkly dressed man in an overly affectionate and quite frankly rude manner. His Familiars, as he had mentioned to the fellow, usually did not like anyone other than Logan. Only finding exception in long time acquaintances that he held a particular camaraderie with. Especially Moriarty because he was Logan’s first and therefore most bonded. The client in question, however...Had seemed to not mind at all...And had just happily soaked up the bird’s affection towards him. He had taken it all in with an alarmingly charming smile and softened voice that almost made his knees-
He falls into the loveseat, gripping the edge of the cushions with one hand and trying not to spill his fresh coffee with the other as he sits down. Anchoring his thoughts before he lets them set sail into some illusionary sunset. He needed to forget about that odd incident. He needed to start thinking straight again. He needed to get some more work done.
Don't do love, don't do friends.
I'm only after success.
Don't need a relationship.
I'll never soften my grip.
With a resolved sigh the warlock reached over to the end table beside the loveseat, placed the just barely saved cup atop it’s coaster, scooped up the couple of notebooks that were there, and began looking through his notes on all of his meetings for the day. As he read through them, however, he began to feel unnaturally antsy. He chewed on his bottom lip. He tapped his nails against the cover. He hopped his foot continuously up and down. Sensing his uneasiness, Moriarty lets out a questioning caw soon followed by Sheppard’s concerned woof.
“I’m fine.” He rasps out, “It’s just…” His eyes flicker towards the second notebook, the one now laying right beside his thigh. The one he would read second. Because he always read everything in chronological order and he would never skip around. Not for anything. Because it was very important that he remained well organized and timely in his work. So he would leave that one for later, for only after he had finished this one first. He would leave it there and he would-
Proceed to snatch it up immediately, entirely disregarding the previous notebook, which promptly and tragically fell onto the floor. Poor first notebook. Your fate belongs with the pen now.
“It’s this.” He hisses out as he flips on over to page thirty two. The beginning of his notes on his noon appointment, who had actually arrived an overwhelmingly terrible amount of one and a half hours late. Which had set him further on edge than he already was after dealing with Misses Stockbean around ten o’clock that morning, who had demanded more Ozian Poppy seeds than the original agreed amount for half the usual price. So understandably, he might have been a tad snappy towards the bloke at first but he had tried to soften at least a little bit after seeing how anxious the poor guy really was. But then, oh then, Moriarty had preceded to act entirely too strange for him which set Logan right back on edge again. After he had calmed his Familiar down with promises of extra fruits at dinner that night if he stayed quietly upstairs for the remainder of the appointment, he had finally been able to start to interview him.
Monday, September 23rd. Virgil Spurling. Age 26. Self Employed. Lives with his three adoptive parents, Thomas Proudfoot, Talyn Banes, and Joan Vivas. Only spends time with either the three of them, or his two honorary cousins Remington Sexton and Otto Toby Haggard. No living friends outside of the family. No current romantic or sexual partners. Has dark brown hair with light brown highlights. Has long bangs that fall over his eyes, sometimes almost covering them completely. Has rather stormy hazel blue eyes that almost appear violet depending on the lighting he is in. Has pronounced dark circles under his eyes- which are concerning. Has a lovely onyx teardrop piercing on his left cheek and a pair of matching dahlia piercings besides his lips. Has rounded, soft pink lips with a thinner upper lip and a thicker, more bitable lower lip and-
Wait a minute, just what kind of notes had he been taking the entire time he was conducting this interview?! He skips ahead two pages and he’s still just on the physical description section. His physical descriptions had always been more concise and to the point before now. He didn’t quite understand what had happened this time in order to change that. He skims ahead more to try and pinpoint any change or clue anywhere in all of this absurdity.
Has brushed his bangs aside and placed them beside his ear to allow me to see that he has a tattoo behind his ear, on the side of his neck, comprised of a complicated swirl of black roses and thorns. It looks like it would have been painful to get but compliments the structure of the junction between his neck and shoulder nicely. It makes one wonder if he would appreciate someone’s equally difficult yet proudly designed tattoos of assorted constellations across one’s rib cages-
Okay, just why had he started talking about his own tattoos? These notebooks weren’t for some diary-esque documentation of himself. They were for taking professional notes so that he made sure he remembered the most important details of, and information for, all of his assorted clientele. Skip ahead further!
He is surprisingly smart. He is as quick witted as he is sharp-tongued. Metaphorically, of course. Physically, his actual tongue is baby pink and soft, if the few times it has darted out to lick nervously over his lips and teeth are of any indication. He hates pick up lines. Understandable. I find them pointless as well. He. Him. He too has memorized the entire periodic table of elements and is actually fluent in using their abbreviated symbols to make multiple words. Impressive. Breathtaking-
Well at least he seemed to be finally past the physical description now. Yet those strange sentences kept popping up and intertwining themselves where they had no right to be. Even if that had been rather breathtaking at the time it still...It still didn’t explain...Skip ahead! Skip ahead!
He lost his only friend at much too young of an age. I couldn't even begin to imagine how he must feel. How I would have felt were I in his place. He deserves to be comforted and well looked after. He needs a hug. A nice long, extended hug. Perhaps, seeing as I am the only one here with him as of the moment and thusly the only person currently available to do so I could-
Woah, woah, woah. Slow down there past Logan! One should never initiate physical contact with their client without their express consent. He knew that, of course. He knew that and yet he had written...He had written far too much about himself, is what he had done. Wasn’t he supposed to be finding Virgil a suitable romantic and/or sexual partner? How could he do that if he was too busy writing about himself and what...what he wanted? And wait, he wanted? He...yearned? And just for what, exactly? Skip-
He likes poetry. Specifically gothic poetry. That is one of my many favorites as well. I have a rather extensive collection in my shop that I could share with him-
Oh Merlin.
He prefers Astronomy as well. Rather surprising, actually, given his darker appearance and habit of speaking- I had wrongly pegged him for someone much more superstitious. A nice surprise. A welcome one. He seems hyper fixated on the plethora of bird-associated constellations which is highly endearing. There is a new large telescope being currently housed in the recently opened observatory section of the Morph Museum, which is not that far of a walk from my shop. Perhaps I could take him-
Oh Merryweather.
He likes bath bombs and the hand soap that foams. He likes collecting seashells and storing little hidden trinkets in them. He likes feeling the gentler tides lap across his feet but dislikes ever actually going any further into the water unless someone he trusts is there with him. Meanwhile, I personally haven’t been out metal detecting in a while maybe I could go with-
Oh Mages of Both Old and New!
I know exactly what I want and who I want to be.
I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine.
I'm now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy.
Oh, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh!
Logan tosses the notebook back down onto the couch, a notably much safer place than the floor, and lets out a choked, broken sob. Using his hands to haphazardly tug on his hair, he somehow hopes to numb his ever spiraling thoughts like a brain freeze might do so after drinking a cold beverage too fast but it’s not working. Nothing’s working and-
And there’s a lick on one of his hands. He blinks aside a few tears he hadn’t even realized had fallen in the first place and sees that Sheppard had risen to his height by standing on his hind paws and was now trying to gently get his warlock to stop abusing his own scalp. Meanwhile, Moriarty was darting back and forth across the room, obviously trying to locate the source of Logan’s clear distress. He manages a breathy chuckle at that despite his current haggard condition and decides to wrap his arms gently around Sheppard’s feathered scuff instead.
“Really,” he praises, “What would I do without you two?”
Sheppard huffs back at him, which roughly translated to Nothing, obviously. And causes Logan to break out into a more genuine laugh this time before sinking to his knees and bringing the pup softly down with him. He evens his breathing out as Shep licks consolingly at his hands and arms. “What am I going to do, boy?” he mumbles as he uses his dress shirt’s pocket handkerchief to dab at the stray tears with one arm as he still clings to the wolf with his other. “This can’t be happening, right? It just can’t.” He gets no response at that, however, probably since the poor canine can’t entirely grasp the emotional severity of the situation.
Deciding to just toss the handkerchief into the nearest bin instead of sending it through the wash as per usual whenever he dirtied it, he finally lets go of Sheppard, stands back up, and brushes off his pants legs. Upon glancing towards the looming form of the notebook where it still lay tauntingly on the couch’s cushions, he guffaws a more strained and panicked laugh as his thought train not only takes off down the tracks but also entirely derails off course.
If you are not very careful,
Your possessions will possess you.
TV taught me how to feel,
Now real life has no appeal.
“What have I always told myself, hm?” He gestures wildy, causing Moriarty to stop his frantic searching in order to look towards him and for Sheppard to perk back up into attention as well. “What have I always told myself even way back in school? Even though other more hormonal mages always disagreed with me, what were the words I always stuck by, huh?” The two Familiars shared a brief confused look between the two of them.
Logan stops to run a hand through his hair in hopes of straightening it up a bit from it’s tousled state. “What words not only got me through school but also allowed me to reach my full potential and achieve the placement of top student?” He allows himself to take a moment to stroke a hand over each of the surfaces of all the awards aligning the top shelf of his smallest bookcase, located on the other side of the loveseat than the end table was. These were the backups of the awards he kept in his shop downstairs, just in case a particularly rowdy customer ever managed to break one. After his fingers left the “Best Little Potion Maker’s” one, he pushed himself away from the area entirely and headed swiftly towards the hallway in front of the staircase.
It has no appeal.
It has no appeal.
It has no appeal.
It has no appeal.
It has no appeal!
His ever attentive Familiars followed worriedly behind him until they stop just before the steps. He flourishes a harsh, pointed finger at the few portraits hanging on the wall there. “What words were going to eventually get me all the way to the top of Heartwish City’s very own magical community? But are now just...Just dead pipe dreams!” His two most trusted creature companions, still ever so confused by his current trail of logic, made hushed little questioning noises.
Ripping the topmost portrait off of the wall, he began to hiss his next words at it as if the object itself had managed to personally offend him. “Focus on your work. Never fall prey to your feelings. You need to be successful in life more than you need to personally engage in any inane romantic or sexual endeavors.” Merlin’s painted facade stared blankly and unchangingly back at him. In utter retaliation at the silence, he tosses it frame and all down the stairs. Upon remembering Logan’s aversion to untidiness, Sheppard slinks slowly down them to go collect the scattered remains.
Don't want cash, don't want card.
Want it fast, want it hard.
Don't need money, don't need fame.
I just want to make a change.
“Lot of good that did me, boys!” He continues to deliriously shout out, “All these years and not even so much of an inkling of said feelings and yet over the course of one idiotically ineffable day I’ve managed to gain what is essentially a childish schoolyard crush!” He managed to breathe out all in one go before slumping tiredly against the side of the stairwell.
In a Eureka! moment Moriarty begins to excitedly flit to and fro while hurriedly chirping at his warlock. Almost too fast for him to be able to sense the meaning of. “Wait, slow down a bit Mori. What are you-” More hard to decipher chirps, “Hold on, move in? What on earth gave you that idea? No, he’s not going to-” More persistent caws this time, “Well, of course we both like him, I’ve literally just now established that already and- And wait just a moment.”
He scoops the bird gently into his palms. “You liked him first, didn’t you?” One short caw confirmed a resounding Yes. for him. “Did you know, then? Could you have possibly sensed that he’s perfect for me? For us?” He stutters out a breathy laugh, “That’s what that whole debacle was about, wasn’t it?” The crow coos soothingly back up at him and gives him a love bite on the bridge of his nose. Logan releases Moriarty back into the air, along with the emotions connected to his previous outburst, and leans back to place his hands firmly on his hips while he stood proudly back up on his own two feet.
“Just look at me, behaving so ridiculously over the top for such a trivial matter. Throwing a temper tantrum even! Just what would my old professors say, if they saw me now?” He shuffles over to the other side of the hallway where a small cabinet is and opens one of the drawers. “After all, I am more than perfectly capable of handling more than one problem at a time, am I not?” There was both a cheerfully agreeable caw and howl at that, which caused him to finally smile happily again. “And besides, it might not even last all that long. Crushes and mere infatutations are usually short lived!” He rifles through the drawer’s contents until he finds another portrait that was dusty and slightly cracked in one of the upper hand corners. Shutting the drawer and striding back over to the stairwell he holds it up to see if it’ll fit in the arrangement. “Yes, this’ll do perfectly.”
I just wanna change.
I just wanna change.
I just wanna change.
I just wanna change.
I just wanna change!
“And well, if it does last longer or just so happens to escalate further, then...” He concludes as he places the portrait on the spot with a short spell to fix the hook he had broken earlier and steps back to admire the new set up, “His parents never specified that I couldn't be the one I chose for his match, now did they?” Morgan Le Fey, now sitting atop the others as if on a throne made up of the mages, gives him a subtly wicked and tilted smile in response.
He mirrors her expression for the briefest of moments before spinning on his heel and heading towards the only window on the top floor of his building. The warlock steps into his bedroom, pushes the curtains aside, and undoes the latches in the center. As he thrusts the two panes wide open, Moriarty joins his side once more.
“Ah, perfectly punctual as always, Moriarty.” he praises as the bird lands on the back of his hand before leaning in to whisper conspiratorially to him, “Before any new endeavor one embarks on in their life, they should always research properly first, yes?” After his Familiar nods in agreement he continues onwards, “And I’m sure you want to see him again soon yourself, right?” Upon realizing who his warlock was talking about, the bird fluffs up his feathers in anticipation. “Exactly, so this all makes perfect sense.” He waves away any other possible negative notions with a sweep of his hand and turns swiftly back towards the open window.
The sun was setting now. The doctor briefly recalled a time, as a kid, where he had stayed up long past his bedtime not only to see the sunset but to also test out his newest telescope. Back then, before he had properly entered into his magical schooling, he had been far more into scientific pursuits at the time. Though he still held a liking towards them now that he was older, what really currently consumed him was his work with all things magical and mythical. Though now, after today, a new beast of a subject was rounding the corner to have it’s turn eating away at his soul. Maybe, just maybe, if he was lucky enough, he could manage to take a bite out of it first.
“Alright, Moriarity, you know what you must do.” He interrupted the nostalgic scene and swung the arm the Yatagarasu was perched upon out the window and into the open picturesque evening air. His voice took on a booming echo, “Go forth and gather all that we must know, Though never your own cover you must blow.”
All three of his Familiar’s eyes flashed with the royal blue color of Logan’s magic before the third eye disappeared into the feathers of his forehead and his third leg was tucked away into the feathers of his tail. They both breathed a collective sigh of relief at another spell well cast, despite the roller coaster of emotions that they had all been through that day. Moriarty gave him one final nod in reassurance of their plan and took off into the ever changing dusk sky.
The warlock stayed by the window long enough to watch until his Familiar’s form disappeared over the horizon then set about closing and locking it back up. His other Familiar trudged upwards from the stairs, through the small apartment, and into his bedroom. Giving him a huff to announce his presence.
“Oh, you cleaned it up?” he asked the Valravn, who butted his head against his thigh, “Thank you, though I could have gotten it myself later.” A grunt followed that and he chuckled as he scratched behind the canine’s ears, “Yes, yes you're a good boy. Now let’s head to bed, shall we?” Sheppard pulled away from the affection to howl at the window. “Moriarty? He’s...running an errand. He’ll be a while.” To which he received the most pointed look a dog’s face could ever muster. He shivered as he felt the intrinsically implied Can’t hide things from me, we’re bonded. and cleared his throat to correct himself, “He’s watching over our dear new acquaintance, Virgil. Don’t worry, you’ll be able to meet him yourself soon.”
Much more satisfied by that answer, Shep hopped up onto his rightful spot at the foot of the bed. Where he settled down to wait as Logan went through his nightly routine of partially getting ready for the next work day, cleaning himself up, and changing into his pajamas.
Meanwhile, the coffee mug in the living room on the dark wooden end table still sat forgotten and untouched. Where it would no doubt remain throughout the entire night.
I'm gonna live, I'm gonna fly.
I'm gonna fail, I'm gonna die.
I'm gonna live, I'm gonna fly.
I'm gonna fail, gonna die, die, die, die.
A/N: So I’m still a dirty rotten no good procrastinator. But! Hopefully it’ll help make up for the wait just a little bit that I’ll be posting both chapters 2 and 3 in quick secession. Along with a short, one-off Creativitwins fanfic (coming soon) based off of the latest episode (SVS Part 2). Hope you’ll enjoy! ^ . ^ “”” Also, I’ll no longer be going through the original post for reblogs to add to the taglist. So if anyone wants to be added to it please dm or ask me and let me know! ;3
Tag List:
@accidental-sanders
@ren-allen
@noneed4thistbh
@virgil-the-void-kitten
@totalwhovian
@bandgeek82002-love
@allycat31415
@notalwaysthevillian
@cloudchaser7
@iamredxd
@lacrimosathedark
@idon-kno
@darkhumourandfandoms
@phangirlandkilljoy
@nikova-eve
@rebelrewriter
@chaoticpanpastelle
@simreaper98
@adroolingmaw
@corrupt-ink-denials
@all-of-them-sanders
@6-daughter-of-a-witch-6
@angelicakaiba
@blobdad
@bi-sappy
@clara-oswald-333
@friendly-neighborhood-murderer
@randomcrew
@demon-of-sparkles
@transdimentionalapocolypse
@maybe-one-day-i-will-be-okay
@dxlphmax
@aikitty
@comicsimpson
@agatheringofbees
@mediocrity-at-best
@babybunnyquake
@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes
@screechingflapbiscuitpeach
@hunter-shyreen
@randomfactscenteral
@charlineedstea
@bee-a-queen
@thatonepersonwhoshippeople
@virgil-is-baby-boi
@chocococo16
@softboisnek
@forbiddensender
@tinylightthingtrash
@andreaissy
@girl-from-pluto
@loveyousweets
@im-a-space-gay
@kai-the-person
E.V.O.L Chapter 3- Living Dead
Chapter Summary: After a bit of a rough morning, Virgil decides to visit the grave of his long dead best friend... Meanwhile, Patton has finally graduated and is ready to take on his first assignment as a newly appointed cupid!
Warnings: Beginnings of Yandere like behavior, stalking, watching other’s without them knowing, wounds, stabbing, blood.
Pairings: One-sided moxiety.
Word Count: 4k+
Chapter followed by Author’s Note then Tag List under the read more:
Everyday I feel the same.
Stuck, and I can never change.
Sucked into a black balloon.
Spat into an empty room.
The next day Virgil found himself waking before even the roosters themselves would have crowed.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and cursing his wishy washy biological clock, he wondered if it was too early to grab a bite of breakfast. He had missed dinner the previous day, after all, having been too tired from being forced to socialize for so long with someone so new. His parents would probably understand if they caught him. They always did.
He shrugged and slung one of his lighter weighted blankets over his shoulders before taking a few shaky steps away from his bed. His legs felt like jello, making it tempting to just go back to the safety of his little nest and spend all day inside of his room. But the obnoxious rumbling of his ungrateful stomach made that nearly impossible. So to the kitchen it was instead.
Virge tried his best not to step on any creaky floorboards on his way out of his room and down the stairs. If his parents weren’t already awake, then he certainly didn’t want to be the loud, fumbling asshole that actually woke them up. Heaven knows they deserved all the rest they could get. They did so much for him. And for the whole neighborhood, for that matter.
Wonder if there’s any of those blueberry bagels left. He pondered as he descended the final step.
He went past the living room and into the kitchen, where upon after he entered, Virgil was immediately met with his answer.
“You’re up early, V.” Talyn said around a mouthful of their buttery bagel, “Can’t sleep?”
“More like slept too much.” Virgil corrected as he joined them at the breakfast bar.
Talyn was a Banshee, a wailing ghost that had the ability to warn others of approaching death.Though, they usually used their glorious screeching voice for the screamo parts of their band’s songs instead. Once in a blue moon however, especially back when Virgil had done something particularly rebellious when he was a teenager, he had had the pleasure of witnessing firsthand the more negative side to their voice. Between his maddy’s booming voice and the sad puppy dog eyes his pops had sent his way-it was easy to see why his version of a ‘rebellious phase’ had been cut short.
“I’d chastise you for your poor sleeping habits but I’m honestly not one to speak myself.”
“You’re a ghost, you don’t even need to sleep.”
“And yet here we are.” They waved the hand holding the bagel, sending some crumbs flying, “With me taking afternoon naps and staying up all night like a heathen.”
“God, same.”
“We’ve rubbed off on you too much, little one.” Talyn chuckled, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Me and Joan. Why don’t you take after your papa more too?”
“Pops is too sunshiney for me, maddy. I’m half convinced he’s made of literal sunbeams at this point.” Virgil sneered out with a fond undertone as he gently lathered butter on his own bagel, “I’m more of a punk moonchild, ya’ know?”
Maddy was the affectionate nickname he had given Talyn as a kid. He was pleased to later find out that, unlike with dammy, other kids sometimes used maddy for their nonbinary parents too.
His maddy chuckled at that, patted his shoulder, then returned to devouring their own breakfast. They both sat in a comfortable, companionable silence for a while as they finished up their food and took in the morning sights through the wide kitchen window. Then as the birds started up their autumn songs and the sun started it’s slow trek over the horizon, they both got up to put away their trash and tidy their mess. As he was putting his blanket over the couch for later cuddling-while-watching-tv purposes, Virgil’s eyes unfortunately happened to land on the calendar hanging next to the entryway. The sight of a certain circled reminder of a date he had been trying to forget caused a past pain to resurface just as hot and stabbing as the first time it had ever appeared in his heart.
He reentered the kitchen with a familiar, haunting grimace. Talyn sent him a fleeting confused look before it morphed into one of understanding instead.
“It’s next week, isn’t it?” They breathed softly, “The anniversary.” Their tone held an unnecessary weight of guilt. For even though they were a Banshee, they had not been able to foresee that death. The most important one. The one that had hurt their child so much at such a young age.
“Yeah,” Virgil choked out, tears threatening to brim his eyes, “If...I’m being honest...I’m not sure if I can make it, this year.”
“Well maybe…” They bit their lip and shifted on their feet nervously, “Maybe you can just go now? It might be less pressure, if it’s not the day of.”
“I-I don’t know, maddy. I’m still kind of worn out from yesterday.”
“Ah, the matchmaker meeting. I almost forgot about that.” Talyn moved to lean back on the counter, “How did that go?”
Virge sucked in a breath, blinked away the wetness of his eyes, and thanked whatever higher power may be for the change of topic. “Terrible, I hate socializing. Also it felt like I was being hounded by a teacher with how many questions I was being asked.”
“He needs to ask questions, dear. How else would he know what you like?” They sent him a sympathetic smile that didn’t quite meet their eyes. The mood of the room was still soured by the date hanging ominously on the wall. Taunting them both with it’s ever approaching red circle.
“What I would like is to not have to go to these meetings at all.” Virgil whined. He hopped up to sit cross legged on the countertop beside his maddy. “Why’d you and dammy even talk to him anyways? I thought pops was just going through one of his romance craze phases again, but…”
“But, we all agreed it’s what’s best for you. It’s not healthy to only ever hang out with your family. You need to spread your wings, sweet little baby boy.”
“Ew, baby talk.” Virgil mimed throwing up before crossing his arms and pouting. “Why’s it gotta be some stupid dramatically set up romcom though? Can’t I just go to an online group chat for depressed-emos-anonymous or something?”
Talyn did a laugh somewhere between a giggle and a chortle at that. They playfully swiped at his shoulder. “No, you idiot. Just listen to your parents, okay? It’s time. Way past time, actually…”
“Time to what? Get some?”
“Find someone to love. Someone to...give your feelings too.”
“I give mushy lovey dovey stuff to y’all all the time!”
“Not like that, V. To…” They tapped a frustrated rhythm onto the countertop with their long, pointed nails. “To obsess over. To be attracted to and fawn over. Stuff like that.”
“To bone.”
“Virgil!”
“What? That’s the only difference, ain’t it?” He sighed as he leaned over to place his head on their shoulder. “Why can’t platonic love be enough? I've been doing just fine with just that…”
“Honey…” They let out a sigh of their own before running a reassuring hand through his hair. “That may have been enough until now, but trust me you need this.” The soothing touch of their petting almost calmed him, until- “We need this.” They ended in a strained whisper, yet unfortunately still loud enough for him to hear.
Virgil jolted away from Talyn and off the counter as if he’d been burned. “What? You’re...You’re all trying to pawn me off or something? Finally tired of me being a fucking mooch?”
“No, no- Little one, that’s not what I-”
“Well if I’m such a leech, maybe I will go hang out in the graveyard with the rest of the rotten worms.”
The tears that had pricked at his eyes earlier decided to return, yet once more he held back the flow of the damn. His eyes reddened with the strain of the repression. Still, he refused to cry around others. Weakness was an ugly shade of color to wear. He wanted to toss out all of his flaws from the closet of his inner self and go shopping for better traits. But maybe, he couldn’t help but think...he was the one that needed to be tossed out right along with them.
Got bubble wrap around my heart.
Waiting for my life to start.
But everyday it never comes.
Permanently at square one.
“Tell the others I’ll be at the church.” He snapped instead as he rounded the corner and stomped up the stairs. He no longer cared if he woke anyone else up. His body was brimming with aggravated energy and his mind was swirling with all the possible negative implications of those few simple whispered words.
The day had barely begun and he already had a massive headache.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After having haphazardly thrown on the nearest clean clothes he could find and all but running out of his house and into the nearly empty street, save for a lone old maid that was bird watching on a nearby bench, he began to make his way over to the cemetery.
On his way there he stopped by Fauna's Florals to pick up a small bouquet of soft and pale yellow roses, the flower of friendship, because that's what he had been to him- the truest friend he would probably ever have. Besides his family, of course, though they were kind of obligated to hang out with him. And he was beginning to wonder if even that reliable, familial obligation had started outstaying it’s welcome.
Miss Fauna, having noticed his red rimmed eyes, had given him a sympathetic smile and a pat on his hand as she handed over the bouquet. He shied away from the unwanted contact and thanked her in a small voice. It was the loudest one he could muster at the time.
When it's late at night-ight,
I'm so dissatisfied-ied.
The weight of an empty life-ife,
Will lessen in the moonlight.
In the light,
In the light,-light,-light.
Shooting Star Cemetery was luckily located in the next street over, making it an easy and short walk. Yet not nearly a long enough a walk to clear his head any from the raging storm it currently housed inside. The graves were all well kept and neatly aligned. The landscaping was done with care and sheer professionalism. The overall atmosphere was more bright and welcoming than one would expect a place housing the dead could ever be.
Virgil moved past the groundskeeper with quick steps, not wanting to have to engage in any conversation with the man whose smile always seemed to stretch too far over his face and whose eyes appeared to linger on his form for too long. Especially not today of all days. He thought as the conversation from earlier resurfaced in his mind. Fresh and unwanted.
His feet took him to his destination almost on autopilot. He had been visiting this particular grave at least once a year for almost seventeen years now. Of course it would be practically hardwired into his system at this point.
“Hey, buddy.” He called out wearily as he approached. Virge leaned over to place the bouquet of yellow roses directly in front of the ivory gravestone before stepping back to sit on the grass across from it.
The stone was the lightest of the ones in its row, almost basking it in an ethereal spotlight. The carvings of angels, ribbons, and roses around it’s surface only accentuated the holy glow. In the dead center, carved in looping and elegant cursive writing, was the epitaph.
It read,
“Patton Sangster:
A young Cherub bright and fair,
Taken from this world too soon.
Now he is way up there,
Dancing between the Sun and the Moon.”
Definitely more fancy and vague than most of the epitaphs around here. Virgil mused, Then again Mrs. Songster was always the poetic dreamer type.
While on the other hand, if he had a gravestone, it would probably say something like "Here lies Virgil Spurling: What an idiot" or "Virgil Spurling: Died of Depression and General Dumbassery".
He let out a long sigh and curled his legs underneath him while crossing his arms. “You wouldn’t believe the week I’ve had, Pat.” He began, “I think my parents have lost their ever loving marbles. Don’t get me wrong or anything- I love them a bunch. But I just don’t...I just don’t get why they’re doing this, ya’ know?”
“They’re insisting I see this stupid matchmaking witch doctor guy, who probably thinks I’m a loser by the way-he seemed kinda stuck up and I kept making a fool of myself as per usual. And like they want me to get hitched to some dude ASAP I guess so I can ‘spread my wings’? Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean?”
He started waving his arms around to accentuate his ranting, ”But a part of me can’t help but think they’re just trying to get rid of me. Just pawn me off to a random guy so I can be out of their hair! But they...They’ve never said or done anything like that before...They’ve always been so nice to me and so supportive and so loving so I just don’t…”
Now, in the sanctum of this empty cemetery and the equally emptily promised presence of his only friend, he finally let the tears fall quietly and slowly down his ever reddening cheeks. “I just don’t get it anymore, Patton. Nothing makes sense. It hasn’t for a long time now. Ever since...ever since high school, really. And I just…”
“I just wish you were still here.” He hissed into the morning air as he closed his eyes and let his eyes finish emptying themselves so he could hopefully return home with them dry and pretend that they had never been crying in the first place.
From several yards away the groundskeeper stole glances at the strange visitor as he worked his usual surveyal of the grounds. However, his gleaming, unwelcome eyes were not the only pair that happened to be following Virgil that day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Patton Sangster, newly appointed cupid under Eros, had just finished the last of his angelic training and was lined up with the rest of the lucky graduates about to receive their first heavenly assignments.
Finally! He cheered in his head. A chance to prove that all of his training wasn't for nothing. He may be light hearted, but he certainly wouldn't take his heavenly duties lightly. He would prove without a doubt that being soft hearted didn’t mean he was weak. Far from it in fact. He considered the overflowing love he had in his heart to be his greatest and most cherished source of strength.
Little did the little cupid know just yet, but that unbridled and passionate love of others would soon be his very downfall.
I'm living dead, dead, dead, dead.
Only alive-live-live-live.
When I pretend-tend-tend-tend.
That I have died, died, died, died, died, died.
An elder, more experienced cupid passed back and forth in front of the recruits with a golden clipboard they had summoned. Odiel, patron cupid of dark love ballads, was surprisingly the one giving the assignments to the newbies this year. He listed off each angel and their assignment with a resigned sigh and dramatic flip of the page. He went through many graduates before finally getting to Patton, which had caused the poor angel to bounce nervously on his feet.
"Patton Sangster?"
"Yes, that's me!" He nodded eagerly with a dazzling grin.
"Hm." His superior clicked his tongue before looking at his clipboard. "No official angel name given yet. No patron title earned yet."
Patton's eager expression flickered, a brief frown gracing his features before they turned back into his patton-ted steadfast smile.
"We'll just assign you to your old hometown during life, then. And see where it goes from there."
Patton gasped, bringing his hands up to cup his face. "Heartwish City?!"
Odiel pauses for a moment to check another page on their clipboard. "...Yes."
"Yay! Oh, I can't wait to see everyone again! And help them out!"
"Mhmm. Well, you will have to wait a bit more. There's still orientation to get through."
"Oh, of course." His smile turns more nervous, "Yes, sir."
And with that, the rest of the graduates were assigned before they all headed over to the orientation stadium.
The clouds are thicker and fluffier around the stadium, which is covered in red, pink, and white decorations and gold trimmings. Eros himself stands on a stage floating gently above them. Some of his more well known cupids fly beside him and his effervescent presence. They give the awaiting crowd reminders of what-to-do's and what-not-to-do's before Eros finally speaks.
"Today is the day you truly become cupids. Go forth and spread love, devotion and admiration wherever you may fly to. Prove your loyalty both to me and to my almighty mother Aphrodite. Be the best angel you can be." He intones in a booming voice accompanied by grand hand gestures. He then bows his head toward the crowd of new cupids in respect and waves them off, officially dismissing them to their new posts.
Patton, having been absolutely jittery with excitement throughout the whole orientation, immediately flaps his small, pink and blue hummingbird like wings and takes off into the early morning sky.
His flight time is shortened by both his familiarity with the destination and his newly appointed status. So much so that to any outside spectator, he would have arrived there in the bat of an eyelash.
As he glided over his old town, he spotted several people he once new. Miss Fauna was putting up a new display in front of her flower shop. Tia and Ana were putting up an ad for their speciality tea of the day. Dr Picani was leaving the Blue Fairy Therapy building while glancing at his watch. And many, many more lovely and well missed faces.
But the one he had missed most of all was currently over at the Shooting Star Cemetery, sitting criss-crossed applesauce right in front of his grave.
Sure, he hadn't seen them in over seventeen years, not since their childhood together. But he would be able to recognize that pale face and protective spirit anywhere! This was his best friend we were talking about, after all. And Patton never took his friendships lightly. So he did a spiraling turn in the air to change directions for this newfound destination. He could worry about his other duties later, he had a dear friend to visit!
He hovered over the cemetery like an excited bee hovering over a group of flowers, staying close to the sparse clouds strewn about the glorious sunrise. Not only had Virgil grown up healthily, but he had even remembered him! And was currently paying respects to his grave, apparently. He leaned forward and focused his hearing on the sounds happening down below him.
"You wouldn't believe the week I've had, Pat." Oh dear, what could have happened? Is whatever it was the reason he was visiting? "I think my parents have lost their ever loving marbles. Don’t get me wrong or anything- I love them a bunch. But I just don’t...I just don’t get why they’re doing this, ya’ know?”
What could they have possibly done? Patton remembered Virgil's parents, three queer platonic partners who had always adored their son. They were loved by the whole neighborhood and Patton himself had also enjoyed their company whenever he had visited Virgil's house for playdates and sleepovers. He couldn't imagine them ever doing anything to harm their beloved child! But, if they had hurt Virgil somehow…
“They’re insisting I see this stupid matchmaking witch doctor guy," Ohhh! A matchmaker, huh? Virgie really had grown up! It seemed like just yesterday the two of them were talking about the other boys possibly having cooties during recess. "Who probably thinks I’m a loser by the way-he seemed kinda stuck up and I kept making a fool of myself as per usual." Well that didn't seem very nice of whoever this matchmaker fellow was. Patton would never think of his assignments as losers...everyone was equally deserving of love after all!
"And like they want me to get hitched to some dude ASAP I guess so I can ‘spread my wings’? Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean?” Wait just a minute...Matchmaker...Wings...Patton was a cupid now! Duh. The solution was obvious!
Patton puffed up his chest and fluttered his wings excitedly. He could be Virgil's new, better matchmaker. And nothing would make Pat more happy than having his childhood friend being his first assignment as an official cupid. It was all falling into place so well, almost like destiny! But Virgil was talking again now, so Patton tuned back in.
”But a part of me can’t help but think they’re just trying to get rid of me. Just pawn me off to a random guy so I can be out of their hair! But they...They’ve never said or done anything like that before...They’ve always been so nice to me and so supportive and so loving so I just don’t…”
Ahhh, this was all Virgie's anxiety getting to him again. He had always been a worrywart, even back when they were kids. He guessed some things never changed, not even when it had been so many years. Back then, Patton had always tried to ease his worries and be the most supportive friend he could be. But even at his best and most empathetic, he had been far too young to quite comprehend the full depths of Virgil's emotions.
He looked back at Virgil only to find tears running down his cheeks now, marring his dark eyeshadow. Oh dear sweet Aphrodite- he was crying! “I just don’t get it anymore, Patton. Nothing makes sense. It hasn’t for a long time now. Ever since...ever since high school, really. And I just…”
Highschool? What had happened in high school? Did someone hurt his dearest friend while he wasn't there to protect him? Patton leaned even more forward and gripped the clouds nervously.
“I just wish you were still here.”
Patton froze. Only holy magic and his grip on the clouds keeping him in the air.
I lay back in a glittering mist,
And I, I think of all the men I, I could have kissed.
I haven't lived my life, I haven't lived love,
It's just a bird's eye view from, from up above.
A part of him wished he was still there too. And that same part of him wished he had been there beside Virgil through it all. Had been there in highschool to prevent whatever it was that had hurt his Virgie. Had been there to tell that rude matchmaker off for him. Had been there to give him a lesson in proper etiquette and respect towards his clients. Had been there to help his parents find a better matchmaker. And even to help Virgil pick only the best partner for a great guy like him.
He released a breath he didn't even know he was holding in the first place. But he was here now! And he could help him now!
Now filled to the brim with determination- He hurriedly fumbled to summon his bow and quiver, which he had been storing in his Grace, and pulled out a red romantic arrow from the bag. In his haste, however, he had nicked the side of his arm with the tip of it. He paused to look at the offending wound, wondering if a nick was considered the same thing as a pierce. It wasn't, right? He didn't remember them saying anything about scratches while in the heavenly academy. Oh well, it was probably nothing to worry about! It hadn't come anywhere near his heart, after all.
Besides, Patton had much more pressing matters to attend to. And a heart that needed a connection only he could create was waiting for him. A connection that would transcend the very heavens themselves! Pat would definitely find Virgil a beloved partner that could kiss his many worries away. Many, many kisses. Kisses for that kissable mouth...and soothing voice...and soft looking cheeks…and pale, elegant hands...
Patton shook his head furiously to rid himself of those lucrative thoughts. Sure, Virgil had grown up handsomely, yeah. But this was Patton's best friend he was talking about! How could he be thinking such scandalous and traitorous things? Besides, he had chosen Virgil for his very first assignment. He had to be more professional than that! He had to prove himself a worthy cupid both to Eros himself and to his fellow angels.
He moved to expertly draw his bow, with the same arrow that had previously drawn his blood, poised in the direction of the huddled figure below him. Just as he was about to finally fire, however…He heard it.
"Patton." Just a whisper. A whimper through tears. Just a mumble amidst other unintelligible cries of sorrow.
And yet it felt like a shout. A cry for help. A plea for him. It rang through Patton's ears with the force of a hurricane and knocked him off of his balance.
The arrow cracked and twisted off it's place on the bow and turned to stab through his heart.
He choked on the blood that had bubbled up into his throat and desperately pawed at the arrow lodged accidentally into his most valuable organ.
The words of one of his superior angels and teacher, Balladeil, flared up into his mind. A cupid was not meant to take a cupid's arrow. A cupid's arrow was not made to be used on a cupid.
"Oh Eros!" He cried "Oh no!"
He grabbed at the arrow and started yanking on it. Trying to pull it out of his chest. But it was being stubborn, latching onto his Grace and using that to keep ahold of him. More blood gushed from the wound only to be consumed by his Grace as it tried to heal him from the intrusion. Tears started pouring from Patton's eyes to match Virgil's.
Then, before he knew it, the arrow had melted into his heart and merged into his Grace. And the connection had been completed.
Patton stared dumbfoundedly at the clean space where it used to be for several solid minutes. The wounds were completely healed now and the blood was all gone. It was too late. He had been too late. He had failed.
He took a shaky breath and moved to collect his bow and quiver.
He stored them carefully back into his Grace.
He looked back down at Virgil, who was getting up from the ground now.
He flew slowly over the graveyard as Virgil walked hurriedly past the leering groundskeeper.
He followed Virgil silently all the way back to his home, often passing by a strange crow that happened to be on the same flight path as him.
He watched over Virgil for the rest of the day and way on into that night.
Did I really deserve it?
It happens when you're hurting.
And cut me at the surface,
Of my heart.
Of my heart-heart-heart.
A/N: Patton, you darling idiot. You would have been fine if you weren’t so clumsy. X3 Anyways, hope y’all enjoyed! The next fic I’ll post will be that Creativitwins one shot I mentioned earlier. And then it’ll be right back into the E.V.O.L au! ;3
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