Sanders Sides Oneshots and Short Stories

The Manifestor // pt.1

Not requested.

Ship(s): Platonic LAMP+T

Category: Action?? idk lmao

Warnings: Wound descriptions

Summary: When Thomas is in life-threatening situations, his Sides can manifest in the real world, separate of his influence. This attracts unwanted attention.

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Crunch.

The screech of metal on metal, the copper tang of blood and fumes permeating the air. A scream rings out.

"Patton!" someone shouts, only halfway manifested but panic still shines in his eyes. He is dressed in a black and purple hoodie, with something like eyeshadow smeared beneath his eyes.

Another joins him, identical apart from the blue polo shirt and grey cardigan wrapped around his shoulders. A pair of square glasses perches on the bridge of his nose.

"Virgil, get Thomas out," Patton instructs, voice level. "I'll help the family."

Virgil tugs at the door once, twice, and when it doesn't budge, he grabs the edges and tears the door off it's hinges with a great squealing noise. The door skids across the concrete and stops several feet away large circular indentations in the metal where he'd grasped it. Patton helps the family out of their smoking car, ushering the kind to the sidewalk. Meanwhile, Virgil lowers Thomas to the ground, muttering and chewing anxiously on his bottom lip. He removes his hoodie and quickly wraps the patchwork fabric around the bleeding gash in Thomas' arm, and once Patton returns, the other uses his cardigan as a makeshift bandage to staunch the blood flow in other areas. Then, Virgil slides his hands beneath Thomas' body and lifts him effortlessly.

"What do we do?" Virgil asks urgently.

Patton taps his foot, glances back at the gathering crowd, and motions for Virgil to set Thomas down. "I'll heal him, then you wake him up," Patton says calmly. Once Virgil has Thomas in a sitting position, Patton kneels beside him and places a hand over each wound. Nothing happens.

Then-

His eyes begin to glow an eerie blue, his hands too. The light at his fingertips shudders and gleams, shimmery tendrils extending downward and soaking into the bloody gashes like water to cloth. Slowly, the wound eases closed by invisible stitches, the blood vanishing. Patton's hands move to a cut on his forehead, then the jagged slice on his side, closing each one cleanly. When he finally pulls away, the ghostly blue light fades, and he rocks back on his heels, exhausted.

"I'm gonna take a nap," Patton mumbles. Then white light engulfs his body, and he vanishes.

Virgil works quickly, slipping his hoodie back on despite the bloodstains and heat, then shakes Thomas by the shoulders. Thomas makes a soft sound, of pain or annoyance, Virgil can't tell. Virgil shakes him again, harder this time.

"Get up, idiot!" Virgil urges. Sirens sound in the distance.

"... mm, huh?" Thomas blinks blearily at him. "Virgil?"

Virgil breathes a sigh of relief, releases Thomas, and disappears in a flash of white.

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