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infiniteiram · 3 years

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I Think You’re In My Seat.

a vds one shot. you can find more on my ao3.

( @ apolloswords )

feel free to comment/message me any suggestions for one shot ideas!

Unfortunately, the airlines messed up the seating arrangement and Jens is forced to sit on his own. Fortunately, someone else's seating arrangement was also messed up.

"Bad news," Moyo announced as Jens followed closely behind him. "They messed up our seats."

"What?" exclaimed Sander, giving the both of them a puzzled look. "How did they manage to do that?"

"The system completely messed up everyone's seats." Jens explained. "So, since we checked in late, we basically got the scraps. Which means, there is a very slim chance we're all stuck together." He reached over and flicked the back of Aaron's head. "I told you if you showered in the morning we would be late."

"I didn't expect you guys to show up so early." He groaned. "I wasn't even awake yet."

Jens snorted. "Well, you know we still had to take the train. Bottom line is, we can thank you for the shitty seats."

"But, not so shitty." Moyo added. He began to pass the new tickets around, the ones with the new seat number on them. "Robbe, Sander, we managed to snag you the last two seats together. Kind of at the front."

"You are a miracle worker." Sander laughed as he patted Moyo's shoulder. "What about you guys? Where are you guys sitting?"

"Jens has a window seat near the middle of the plane, I'm a few rows behind him and Aaron has a seat at the very back of the plane." Moyo continued on. "And no Aaron, we are not switching."

"Oh come on, it's going to take forever for me to get out. And I'm going to be near the bathrooms, I better not see Sander and Robbe going in at the same time."

Robbe blushed and hid his face into Sander's shoulder. "I don't think we're that promiscuous."

Sander only snorted. "Maybe it'll be revenge on Aaron for making us late."

"Hey, Moyo got you guys sitting together, why're you complaining?"

The rising teasing between his friends seemed to be getting louder, but Jens let their conversation fade around him. He was distracted by the bustle of the airport, people of all ages rushing around. The start of the summer months was probably a busy time for this place, and as much as he loved and adored Belgium, it felt nice to be headed somewhere else.

His eyes wandered among the crowd of people. Giggling kids with their decorated backpacks, business executives looking rather posh in their work attire with a cup of coffee in their hands and other older adults double-checking their bags for their passport and boarding passes. But his eyes only lead him somewhere else.

A few feet away were a group of three boys his age. One of them was leaned against the wall, his dark long curls giving contrast to his light brown skin. He was smiling at the guy to his right, who was sitting on top of a small carry-on luggage with a bright yellow backpack on. This boy also had dark hair, though it was cut short and just barely touched the tips of his ear, where a dangly earring hung. But the boy who really caught his attention was standing on an angle in front of them. From Jens' perspective, he could make out the sharpness of his jaw, the straight bridge of his nose and a small smile on his delicate pink lips. His light brown curls hung quite effortless in front of his face, and the denim jacket he had on fit his body nicely. Jens discreetly eyed him up and down, and felt a rush of adrenaline shoot through his body. He'd never been the type to admire strangers from afar, let alone be completely smitten over one.

But that was exactly what he was feeling right now.

His daydreaming was quickly interrupted by a sharp jab into his ribs. Wincing, he gave Aaron a glare.

"What was that for?"

"Moyo said you were staring too long. I asked what you were staring at and he told me just to ask you." Aaron responded rather innocently before shrugging his shoulders. "So what were you staring at?'

Feeling a blush rise to his cheeks, Jens bit his lip and pretended he had no idea what Aaron was talking about. "Nothing that concerns you." He mumbled out, looking down at his feet.

He heard Moyo snicker from his other side. "Aaron, I don't think you're going to have to worry about just Sander and Robbe sneaking off to the bathroom."

Now Jens elbowed Moyo's ribs. Not as harshly as Aaron did, but harsh enough. Moyo laughed and held up his hands in defence. Both Sander and Robbe raised their brows at him, before trying to sneakily turn around to figure out what Jens was eyeing at. Who Jens was eyeing at. When they came face to face with the other trio, they snickered to themselves as Jens gave them a side eye.

"Damn Jens," Robbe teased. "Three options?"

"One." He admitted, mumbling again. "But I'm not saying which one."

"You know what would be extremely lucky." Sander teased. "If you ended up sitting beside him."

Jens felt his face go a bit more red but scoffed, trying to play it cool. "It's better than sitting beside Aaron."

"Hey!" Aaron protested.

"Now boarding flight 2121." The intercom announced above them.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Robbe and Sander smile softly at each other. He had no idea what the sentiment meant, but judging by the way they looked at each other, it had something to do with their little love story. Jens tried not to feel the way his heart stung suddenly. He would never admit it, but he envied the way all his friends were very content in a relationship but he was not. For the most part, he never felt left out- just, rather lonely. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he made sure both his passport and boarding pass were in his hand as he walked up to the flight information desk. The flight attendant smiled at him and ushered him off. Taking a deep breath, he trudged down the boarding bridge at a slower speed. He couldn't help but to also feel a tinge of disappointment. The boy in the denim jacket from earlier hadn't been sitting around their gate, and he hadn't seen him since him and his friends had wandered off twenty minutes ago. There was now exactly zero chance of scoring a seat beside him, even if his chances from before were still close to zero.

He felt Moyo slap his shoulder, which startled him a bit.

"See you in two hours." He remarked.

"I hope you seat mate is some old grandma who can't hear very well but insists on talking." Jens taunted playfully, as he found his seat. Slipping into the small aisle, he flopped down on the window seat and gave Moyo a handshake before he headed off.

"I hope I get a cute girl." Aaron remarked, as he slowly passed Jens' aisle.

Raising brow, Jens smirked. "How would Amber feel about that?"

"You're right. I hope I get the grandma." Aaron muttered while rolling his eyes.

Jens looked over the other seats as other passengers clambered about, stumbling into their seats or trying to put their carry on luggage up on the overhead storage. A few rows up stood Sander and Robbe, who waved at him before the settled into their seat. When he knew all of his friends were in their seats, he sighed heavily and placed his backpack underneath the seat above him. Tapping his fingers on the arm rest as he bounced his leg, he distracted the remaining minutes before takeoff by looking outside of his window.

Only to be interrupted less than two minutes after.

"I think you're in my seat." A voice with a slightly different accent announced.

Turning his head to face the person the voice belonged to, he felt his face heat up again.

It was the boy from earlier, the one in the denim jacket. Only this time, he was standing very close to Jens. He could now make out the silver rings on his finger, the way his jacket actually hung over more over his shoulders than he thought and the colour of his eyes. The vibrant blue that stared into his brown ones, its colour so bright that Jens didn't believe colour existed before this moment. Realizing he was probably gawking at him, Jens swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to conceal his mess of emotions.

"No? I'm pretty sure this is my seat."

The boy reached over, showing his boarding pass. Squinting a bit, Jens read the seat number and frowned.

"I think they double booked the seat." He stated, looking back up at the boy.

Shrugging, the boy just ran a hand through his curls and sat down. Jens was rather surprised at his chill and confident behaviour, which had him going through an even more internal mess of feelings.

Trying to avoid gazing at him for so long, Jens turned around and started biting the inner corner of his cheek. He suddenly felt very nervous that the boy was beside him now, and if he let his arm up on the armrest, there would be the slightest physical contact between them.

Coming down the aisle was the other two guys, the rest of his trio. The one with the dark curls wiggled his brows at him, only to be lightly smacked on the arm as he passed through. The other boy, the one with shorter hair and was now wearing sunglasses with red lenses, reached out to pinch his cheeks. The boy ducked swiftly and snorted, looking behind him as his friends sat down. Jens noticed that the other two were sitting in different aisles, just like him and the Broerrs.

"Did they fuck up your seats too?" Jens asked, attempting to make conversation.

"Yeah, clearly." He laughed lightly, before fully turning his head to face Jens. "I'm Lucas."

"Jens." He nodded before trying to give him a small smile. It wasn't that smiling at him was an issue, Jens just didn't want to make it so obvious that his slight crush was growing by the second.

Fortunately, Lucas smiled back. "Are you travelling alone?"

"No, my friends are scattered about as well. That's how I figured the airline must have also messed up your seats up as well."

Laughing lightly, Lucas shook his head, his curls gently moving about. "I figured they messed up after seeing someone else in my seat. I just hope I'm not stealing someone else's."

"I don't think so. I think you and your friends were the last ones to board. See? They're closing up the doors now."

Lucas wasn't as tall as Jens, so he couldn't see above the seats. He put his hands on the armrest and lifted himself up a bit. The slight brush of his fingers just barely grazing over Jens' hoodie sleeve was enough to send sparks through his body. The very slight contact had his face turning pink again, and he needed to calm down before Lucas noticed.

"You're right." He agreed, bringing himself back down. "To be honest, I thought they would close the plane before we got on. It's a miracle I'm here right now."

"Why's that?"

"My friend Jayden, he's back there with his red glasses, decided to be an idiot and lose his passport somewhere in the airport. We came from a connecting flight from Amsterdam, so at least it's not there."

"I get that, my friend Aaron also decided to be an idiot. He woke up late which lead us to checking in late, which lead us to shitty seats and being separated." Jens added, before biting his lip. "So, you're from Amsterdam?"

"Not quite. Utrecht, but the closest airport is Amsterdam. So, to get to Rome, we needed a connecting flight." He explained, before tilting his head a bit. "Are you from Brussels?"

"Not quite." Jens repeated, laughing a bit. "Antwerp. We're actually much closer to each other than we would've been."

"Yet we meet on a flight to another country." Lucas remarked, a glint sparkling in his blue eyes.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will now begin the departure to Rome, Italy." An attendant called over the intercom.

The plane began to move beneath them and Jens double checked that his seatbelt was on. The attendants began to do the safety instructions in front of them, and Jens turned his head to look back out the window. After a few minutes, his instincts told him to look at Lucas, who hadn't said anything since the departing announcement.

Poor Lucas was squeezing his fists so hard that his knuckles were white and his face was drained of colour. The slight pink of his cheeks were gone and he was squeezing his eyes shut, taking in deep breathes to calm himself down. Jens widened his eyes, internally panicking as he had no idea what to do.

Reaching out slowly and slightly, he put a warm hand on top of one of Lucas' fists. The skin beneath his own was ice cold, and Lucas opened his eyes quickly, surprised to see that Jens was looking at him.

"Nervous flyer?" Jens asked lightly, but softly enough to be comforting.

He huffed out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, can you tell?"

"Just a little." He paused, unsure how to go about this. "Do you, uhh, do you maybe want to hold my hand?"

"May I?"

"Of course."

It took Lucas a second. But after feeling the plane begin to move faster as it lifted off the runway, he unclenched a fist and grabbed onto Jens' hand. His tight grip should have also cut off Jens' circulation, but Jens stayed calm. He let his thumb rub gently circles on top of Lucas' hand, trying to ease him a bit. After a few moments, he felt Lucas' grip loosen a bit, some warmth beneath their hands and Lucas' breathing being a little less restrained. Lucas' eyes were still closed, and Jens eyed him up and down, taking in the entire wonder of this boy.

This boy, who he realized, was holding his hand.

Of course, the intention was innocent. But Jens suddenly felt his heart race as he continued to let his touch calm Lucas down a bit. He couldn't believe he was holding his hand and if any of his friends knew, he would never hear the end of their teasing. When the plane was soaring through the sky at a steady pace, Lucas sighed heavily and fluttered his eyes open. After a few seconds in which he recollected himself, he turned to Jens and gave him a soft smile.

"Thanks, sorry, I didn't think I'd get so nervous. I was fine on my first flight, but to be fair I'm really tired. I didn't sleep much last night."

"It's okay." Jens smiled back, reassuring him. He noticed the way Lucas still hadn't let go of his hand, and he was just fine with that. "Do you always get nervous when you fly?"

"Mostly, yes. But not like, that bad. Except for now. I think I lost all feeling in my body."

"Probably helps if you actually sit by someone you know huh?" He joked.

Smiling a little wider, Lucas huffed out another nervous laugh. Though this time, it felt a bit lighter. "Yeah, but, it also helps to have someone like you to sit by."

"Someone like me?" Jens asked, unsure what the ambiguity of the statement meant.

Lucas only shrugged, giving him a grin before adding another rather vague statement. "Yeah, someone like you."

And for the second time today, Jens couldn't believe his luck. After about an hour into the flight, in where him and Lucas had quickly gotten comfortable with each other, Lucas had dozed off. Jens had recalled he was feeling a little tired, but as Lucas fell into a gentle slumber, his head slowly fell onto his shoulder. Lucas, being asleep, obviously didn't realize he had fallen asleep on his shoulder, but Jens couldn't help but feel so giddy. He didn't want to move however, because there was no way he was going to wake Lucas up and ruin this.

So, he aimlessly looked out the window and began to think. He couldn't help but feel like he had missed a chance with this boy when they parted ways after the next hour. But, he didn't know if it was too forward of him to ask for some kind of contact with him. To be fair, they had already held hands so the next natural step in this equation was to somehow get his number.

Feeling Lucas stir gently, he looked down at him. The light brown curls fell over his face gently and Jens could make out the small freckles over his nose and his eyelashes mimicking rays of sunlight as his beautiful blue eyes stayed hidden. Jens didn't know how someone could've been so beautiful, let alone be so close to him.

He truly felt like the luckiest person in the entire world.

"Sorry," Lucas mumbled, his eyes still closed. "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

Smiling down at him, Jens reached out to just squeeze his hand again. When they had let go of his hand, Jens tried to conceal his frown. So now, he used this as a gateway to have Lucas' hand back in his. He also liked how Lucas did't remove his head from his shoulder right away.

"It's okay. I don't mind."

He felt Lucas hum against his body, before letting out a loose giggle. "So, what are you heading to Rome for?"

"Just a trip, a quick one to start of the summer and what not. You?"

"The same." Lucas let his eyes look back up at Jens, and once again he was marvelled at the sight of them. "That's kind of a good coincidence."

"Or you know," Jens shrugged, looking away for a second. "Fate."

"Fate?"

"I mean, out of all the seats here, what were the chances you would be sitting by me? Or, let alone, having the same seat as me?"

Lucas grinned, the blue in his eyes clashing together as they became a mess of bright shades. "Seems just like a really good coincidence. Do you believe it that sort of stuff?"

"Fate?"

"Yeah."

For the second time, Jens repeated his shrug. "Sure, why not? It's kind of like, everything happens for a reason. What about you?"

"Do I believe in fate?"

"Yeah, or are you sticking to everything being a coincidence?"

"Mostly coincidence. Though, I am starting to think a little bit of all this might be fate?"

"Why's that?"

A familiar glint sparkled in Lucas' eyes again, as he let himself gaze at Jens above him. There was something knowing about the smile on his face, but Jens couldn't quite place his finger on it.

"I was going to fly out to Italy two weeks ago." Lucas began to say. "But Kes, my other friend here, had to renew his passport so we pushed our departure back. It kind of sucked at first, but not anymore."

"Sucks a little less?" Jens teased, biting the tip of his tongue between his teeth as he smiled widely.

"Definitely sucks a little less."

Both boys stood at the baggage claim. When Jens had gotten off the plane, all his friends had given him a suspicious look as the boy they had seen him admiring was suddenly following him. He had to give them credit for not saying much, as he didn't want to be embarrassed before he could even ask for his number. Aaron, and Lucas' two friends, Kes and Jayden, were still making their way towards the baggage claim. Sitting at the back of the plane was probably not idea, but it gave Jens some time with Lucas.

They got their luggage and Jens saw the other two guys, followed by Aaron, head over. Frowning slightly, he was sad to realize that Lucas and him would part ways and they would be nothing more than two random strangers who managed to sit beside each other on the plane. They weren't even from the same country, and he doubted that the universe would allow him to be this lucky again.

"Lucas!" The boy with red glasses called out, who Jens assumed was Jayden. "Who's your friend?"

"Jayden, Kes, this is Jens. Jens, meet Jayden and Kes." He introduced. "I told him I needed new friends who weren't idiots."

"Just friends?" Kes asked, raising his brows and for the first time, Lucas blushed so hard he turned pink. It made Jens smirk, amused at his reaction.

"Jens!" Aaron called out. "Who's your friend?"

Now it was time for Jens to introduce Lucas to the Broerrs. Turning around, he saw Moyo, Sander and Robbe heading towards him. When they reached him, they stood beside him, all three of them smiling widely as the smirked at the very small distance between him and Lucas.

Coughing awkwardly, Jens bounced his leg. "Luc, meet Moyo, Sander, Robbe and Aaron. Guys, meet Lucas. I met him on the plane."

"And you didn't go to the bathroom?" Aaron piped up and Jens reached behind Lucas and quickly swatted the back of Aaron's head. Aaron winced as the rest of the guys continued their smirking.

"So, where in Rome are you staying?" asked Robbe, and Jens was thankful for the opening normalcy of a new conversation.

"I forget the name, but it's like, a quick shuttle ride from here? Napoleon or something." Kes replied.

"No way?" Moyo exclaimed. "Napoleon Hotel Roma?"

"Uhm yes?" Lucas replied, furrowing his brows in confusion.

Moyo clapped Jens' chest, startling him with his excitement. "Dude, that's the one we're staying at! Did you not know that?"

"Honestly, the hotel didn't even come up in our conversation." Jens admitted.

"Well come on!" Jayden exclaimed, calling then out to follow him. "We can all head to the shuttle and get there together. How long are you guys staying in Rome for?"

"Two weeks." Sander responded, wiggling two of his fingers up.

"No way! So are we!" Kes said in surprise.

Jens looked at Lucas, who was still blushing and giggle beside him. The rest of the guys had started to follow Jayden's lead, but Jens let himself bask in Lucas' company for a few more seconds. Lucas looked up to meet his eyes, a happy grin plastered on his face.

"So, is your opinion still changing?" Jens asked, wiggling his brows.

"What?"

"Do you still think this is a big coincidence?"

"A little bit." Lucas shrugged, his grin growing wider as he took in the way Jens was looking down and smiling at him. "But, I think I'd like to think that this is definitely fate."

"And I'm pretty sure that's exactly it."

"So is this fate Jens? Were we meant to meet right here, right now?"

"I think that's what was supposed to happen. I was meant to meet someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

"Someone like you."

And with that, they followed their friends towards the airport shuttle. Jens didn't know what the rest of the trip, the rest of the summer, meant for him, but that was okay. Because when he looked down, he smiled as Lucas shyly slipped his hand into his and intertwined their fingers together. Lucas pretended he hadn't reached out for him, but Jens felt his hand squeeze against his as he repeated the circular motions with his thumb on top of his hand. They didn't have to say anything, but it was clear they were thinking the exact same thing.

Maybe everything did happen for a reason.

#vds #van der stoffels #vds fic #vds one shot #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #wtfock #skam nl #one shot #ao3 #ao3fic #airplane #airports #this was lowkey rushed and i was exhausted writing it #so i hope it's a little coherent

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lovelivingmydreams · 3 years

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Green eyed Jealousy(2)

So technically part two of chapter 3 because I did a dumb and only posted part of Green eyed jealousy yesterday.

ALSO IMPORTANT I asked for possible fandom names for the nemesis character. I know of 'Andy' for he anxiety from the shorts but this is a different character so he deserves his own name. I thought it might be fun to include you all in that decision. Enjoy!

Part one here if you need a reminder

Chapter 1: Something there.

Chapter 2: The Prince's enemy

"A gift to commemorate one month of friendship!" He declared proudly. Virgil accepted the key speechless. He struggled to voice what this meant to him. It was tangible proof that Roman considered them friends. That the doubts that plagued him were wrong. It wasn't just some wishful thinking. He genuinely cared enough to call him that. To get him any sort of gift at all.

"I -thanks..." he muttered a little flustered. "I'm sorry, I didn't get you anything... I didn't know we were supposed to exchange gifts and..." Before Virgil could spiral, Roman put up a placating hand.

He'd expected Anxiety to do something like this. And he'd prepared his answer.

"We weren't. I simply decided to give you this, the occasion was a last minute addition. Now, if you would be so kind as to open the door?" Roman suggested, vibrating with excitement as he turned Virgil to the room. Problem was, other than his closet door, there were none.

"What door?"

Roman chuckled to himself. "Come on Scooby Boo. Use your imagination," he teased.

Virgil sighed. He felt very silly imagining a door in front of him and even considering to try and open it. But, he'd come to trust Roman. So he gave it a try. And to his surprise he felt the key slide into a lock he turned it and heard a click. There was now a door sized rectangle in front of him made of light. As if it was peering through the cracks of a door. Suddenly his sight was taken by a warm pair of calloused hands.

"Don't freak out. I just want it to be a surprise," Roman explained. A smile evident in his voice.

A smile that grew wider as he heard Anxiety let out a resigned sigh. He was going to play along!

Virgil pulled the key from the lock and the door swung over. Even with his eyes closed and covered he could tell that it was bright on the other side. He could feel a gentle breeze hit his face as Roman guided him over the threshold.

They were walking through low growing vegetation, or it felt like that.

He could hear something... "Is that 'twinkle twinkle little star'?" He wondered surprised.

Roman just chuckled and moved them farther into the world behind the door. Leaving Virgil to notice that it smelled like a candy store.

"Okay, ready?" Roman asked, though he didn't give Anxiety the chance to make a witty remark. He took away his hands and immediately stepped to the side so that he could see Anxiety react without ruining the view.

It was everything he hoped it would be.

Once his eyes adjusted to the light, Virgil was dumbstruck as he took in the purple sky, and the cotton candy clouds. He looked down at the field he was standing in and let out an astonished laugh. He turned to Roman who grinned at his now deep purple eyeshadow.

“A field of paper flowers… you’ve listened to evanescence,” he concluded.

Roman shrugged. They have a way of evolving beautiful images,” he allows.

“You, and only you can use that key to open a door anywhere in the mindscape. To leave you simply use your door to get to your room.” Roman turned and gestured to the direction they’d come from. Now Virgil could see there were 2 doors in the field. One black with silvrvwebs painted on it and one red with golden flowers. The black door was open and showed Virgil's room.

“If you want to visit me or wish to speak with me for any reason, even just for a chat. Simply knock. I will come as fast as I can. I have my. Own key and I will knock on your door should I find myself I. Need of your sulking pretense.” They both chuckled.

“Thank you Roman. You didn't have to do this,” Virgil told him as he tried to think of a good gift in return.

Roman waved him of. “I wanted too. It's a gift for me too. Now we can visit each other and do whatever we want without risking someone seeing us sneaking around.” Roman turned his head to Virgil and gave him a long look to convey how much he meant his next words. “I enjoy your company, Anxiety. And I want the both of us to be able to enjoy quality time without looking over our shoulders.”

Virgil had to look away for a moment to collect his thoughts, and as he did so, he realized what he could give Roman. It wasn't perfect, but hopefully Roman would appreciate the sentiment.

“Virgil,” he said, trying very hard to sound casual but he was sure Roman could tell he was dying inside. He looked back at Roman who was… surprised, awed and moved.

Virgil managed a smirk. “You can call me Virge.”

You sit in your room working on a little comic inspired by characters made by your favorite online personality.

Thomas Sanders.

You’re not going to post it though. Who cares about a comic about how a prince met his arch nemesis. Your phone buzzes and you pick it up. Messenger, junk mail. You decide to see what else went on while your phone was charging at home.

You scroll through and realize there is a not from Thomas' vine account. Well speak of the angel and he shall appear in your notices about 8 hours earlier.

You click the note and find the prince, seemingly injured, laying on the floor. Unarmed and helpless staring down the end of his opponents blade.

“This is the end! Hero!” the villain exclaims. But before he strikes the camera seems to move real fast, blurring the world. But then, nemesis is glaring back at the camera which is looking up at him from the ground . Prince POV?

“I’ll deal with you later,” he promises before turning to the villain. The camera changes spot again and is filming the villains in profile.

“That is my arch nemesis. Not yours, so back off!” he growls. Then he looks back. The scene shifts to an empty room. He got away.

Nemesis turns back to the other villain readying a spell.

The villain screamed in fear, the nemesis in rage.

You leave a like and scroll through the comments. As you read you start smiling. You bounce in your seat as you read there are others who love this duo. Maybe you’ll post the comic after all.

Chapter 4: family and identity

@selenechris

#sanders sides #ts sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #paper flowers au

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princeanxious · 4 years

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The Royal Librarian- Chapter 1

Chapter 1- “The Road to Perfection is Destructive.”

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ships: Future analogical, future sidelines royality, sidelines established dukeceit, background remile

Word Count: a little over 3k

Warnings For This Chapter: Virgil’s got anxiety and is a bit self depricating, brief mentions of panic attacks, Virgil stays up and works himself for so much longer and harder than is healthy for a normal person in one session, boi highkey overthinks a ton when he’s not occupied. Don’t work yourself for 24 hours straight like Virge does, it’s not good for you.

Minor notes on Virgil’s mental state in this fic: Virgil has ADHD(as reflected by my own life experience) that shows up in different ways here and there, and he suffers from RSD(Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria) which drives Virgil’s need to be perfect or fail till he damn near collapses from exhaustion, which also just feeds into his chronic anxiety. Thats all for now!

Chapter one(you are here!)|Chapter two(coming soon!)

Bonus stuff:

-the Rough Library Layout

[[MORE]]

Quiet. Such a word was practically synonymous with Virgil’s existence. The young adult practically grew up in silence, sought quiet spaces out like a moth drawn to a flame. And like a deer spooked by a snapping branch, he often fled from loud groups larger than three. He had been a quiet child, content to lose himself in any book he could get his hands on, reading for hours in any quiet atmosphere he could find. Alone, and content because of it.

So it was really no surprise he picked up a local library apprenticeship when he’d turned fifteen, and was a well-versed and well-read librarian by age nineteen. He had his lifelong friend Patton to thank for making him apply alongside hundreds of others to the opening position of the Royal Astra Family’s castle Librarian position, a year later. And, to be fair? He’d only applied because he’d been sure his resume would never have been seen, let alone selected, if only to simply placate his best friend’s excited begging.

He didn’t account for Patton’s connections as the Royal Head Cook to shift that margine of possibility to reach at least being seen. Though Patton chalked it up to the fact that he’d always talked about Virgil around the royal family anyway, long before the position had needed a replacement. It seemed to be just Virgil’s luck that ‘Virgil’ just happened to be a very uncommon name.

The panic attack that followed after he received a letter that his resume had been selected alongside a select few others for further evaluation had been a rough one. Still, he held out hope that his perceived inexperienced youth would save him, the stress and responsibility of such a serious job couldn’t be trusted with some ambitious kid like him, could it?

And, besides, it’s not like Patton’s constant praises carried that much weight, right? That's just how Patton was, a personified ball of sunshine! It was why Virgil was never surprised to hear Patton mention the royal family and staff by name on accident, or mention a silly story involving them in private, he’d clearly become close to them as the Head Cook. Though, the more he thought about it, he realized that.. Well, it’s not like the royal family had known Patton as long as Virgil had. Patton could be too trusting, and tried to see good in everyone, and well, perhaps the royal family trusted his judge of character over just simple skills. And wasn’t it just peachy that Virgil was lifelong best friends with said ball of personified sunshine? (Not that he’d ever trade their friendship for the world, never. It was just Virgil’s problem that he could never seem to tell Patton no, huh?)

Eventually, a nerve wracking week passed before Virgil finally had his answer in the form of an acceptance letter hand-delivered and an accompanying uniform and granted permissions to traverse and move into the castle grounds, all ordered and signed by King Thomas himself.

Apparently, his suspicions over Patton’s influence had indeed won out.

Three days later, Virgil finds himself silently saying goodbye to the home he’d made on his own, not as terribly forlorn over the loss as he thought he’d be. The small cottage he’d been renting didn’t feel much like home to him, anyway, not like a library did. Still, there was a longing to hide from the large change crashing into his life, and thrice he’d hid under his covers and cursed his weak will against Patton’s puppy eye’d pout. Eventually though, he’d talked himself out of his panicked haze, just in time for his first shift the following day.

“I can’t believe I let Pat talk me into this.” The ravenette grumbled as he leaned to the side. Using his weight and momentum to shift the sliding ladder he was perched on, he slid closer to the next book he’d been reaching for.

“Become the castle’s new Librarian! It’ll be fun, he said! It’ll help sooth my anxiety to work with even more books and even less people, he said, the head cook who works with at least 20 other staff each hour to maintain a steady meal plan for the entire castle staff daily!” The little librarian huffed to himself, resignation seeping out with each controlled breath.

His first day hadn’t been an easy one, and though he hadn’t expected it to go smoothly, he certainly hadn’t expected it to become such a mess. It wasn’t his first time working as a librarian, but leave it to good ol’ Virgil to let life make his days as eventful as possible!

From the moment he woke to the time he had his lunch break, not that he would actually willingly take a break nor need one yet, the day had been.. busy, to put it lightly.

It’d been storming when he woke, and though he was on time to get ready and leave, he’d only realized that his umbrella had broken the month prior. It had left him to make a twenty minute dash in the pouring rain when he found no other options.

He was plenty grateful for a bathroom stationed just inside of the library building entrance, where he hurriedly rushed inside to change out of his soaked attire. He’d been smart enough to pack away his official Royal Librarian uniform into a water resistant bag with a few additional dry essentials, and let his common clothes get soaked instead.

In a short six and a half minutes, Virgil was changed and mostly dry, though there was little he could do about his damp hair aside from comb his fingers through it. With his wet clothes packed away, he made it into the library on time to begin his first very long shift.

He’d already been sworn into secrecy when it came to occasionally dealing with the royal family’s history and artifacts in the future, and with his first and hopefully one of very few ever meetings with King Thomas out of the way, he was officially the new Royal Librarian. And now, also the only. As he was told in no certain terms that the last had retired and fucked off into obscurity before anyone had realized that the library had been left in disorganized chaos.

The old coot had apparently made his own system for everything, and hadn't bothered to write any of it down. From sorting sections to assigning books to genres, none if it clear and often very, very unorganized.

Virgil’s first big task was to comb through the entire damn building and use a new system, one that made sense. He was to reorganize every book and every section, using the appropriate genres and sorting. This way the royal family could actually functionally use the library and not waste time sorting through chaos.

This was where Virgil found himself three hours later, on the verge of a minor mental breakdown as he’d just barely sorted an eighth of the books on the main library floor into the Dewey Decimal system.

He’d had plenty of empty tables at the beginning of his journey, and right now every single one had some few stacks of books on each, labeled accordingly. Aside from his muffled ranting and the pattering of rain, the library was relatively silent.

It was odd, being alone in such a gigantic library. It almost reminded him of home.

He paused for a brief moment, having set down the final few books taken from the bookshelf he’d been working on. He’d gone through just one row of 6 bookshelves, and had 7 rows left to go, and that was just barely counting putting books back in the previous shelves as he went. A whine left him as he realized just how long this project was going to take.

“Fucking fuck.”

Somewhere between the second row and the third, Patton had stopped by to check in on Virgil. He found him hard at work sorting the fiction section on the left side of the building, tables half forgotten as Virgil attached unobtrusive non-damaging number labels to each and every book. Stacks of books lay carefully placed on the floor against each shelf, seperated by label and lack of label.

“You already look so at home, Virge!” The head cook whisper-shouted, though the sentiment was not necessary as the only other being in the library was the librarian himself.

“Yeah yeah, hush you. I’m a bit too swamped for ‘I told you so’s at the moment. So, what's up?” Glancing up at the taller man, Virgil briefly noted a small package wrapped in cloth was held in his hands.

“Can you spare a minute to eat?” Patton giggled, but Virgil knew better. He’d known Patton since they were kids, it wasn’t a question. Or a decision to be made. With a sigh, he placed the book he was holding in its place before turning to the cheery cook. “Yeah, I can.”

“How’s the kitchen today?” He asked lightly, having eaten the light meal quickly in order to get back to sorting. Patton hadn’t commented, nor had he been shooed away when Virgil began sorting again. He contently sat out of the way to finish his own lunch, his original goal having been accomplished.

“Oh! It’s going great today, honestly. Not too many mishaps from the newbies today either, so that's a bonus! And well, you know, making mistakes is in human nature but, they’re learning so quickly, I’m so proud of them! They’ll be taking my place by fall, just you wait and see! And, well, Roman stopped by earlier to swipe some snacks for Prince Logan, his brother, and himself. You know, the usual.” Patton chuckled, and if Virgil had looked, he’d seen the besotted look Patton always had when he talked about the head knight of the prince, he’d seen it a hundred times and was bound to see it a hundred or so more.

“Oh, speaking of,” Virgil butted in playfully, “I’ll finally get a chance to meet this knight and shining armor you’ve been swooning over for over a year now, huh?”

He watched Patton’s freckled face flush bright red, sputtering and then coughing on his mouthful of food. Virgil just cackled delightedly, stepping over to give Patton a few hard pats on the back to be sure his friend didn’t choke.

He laughed again when Patton gave him a pout and a soft “You’re so mean to me, Virge!” Eventually Virgil was able to placate Patton with a gentle hug, and the cook was sunshine and smiles again.

A finished lunch break later had Virgil finally sending Patton off, back to the warm bustling kitchens in the main castle building while he moved on to the next portion of his task.

He quickly found the steady back and forth rythme soothing. Pick a few books up, put them away. Pull a few books out, sort it by number as per their section of genre, set it in the right place. It was a blessing to find that there was just enough of a consistency to the previous plan that he could find up to five to six books in the same category in a row, and each set of books could be similar in subject, usually ending up just one section away. Often was the wayward book that found itself out of place, though he had assumed that these were often books just placed back haphazardly considering their subject patterns.

Often the most scattered and random books had ended up being of a few select categories. Without fail, he found that it would end up being a book on Space and Astronomy and/or Mathematics, in-depth Anatomy of Plants and Animals, young adult Fantasy Adventure novels, or Horror novels. It was.. Sort of odd, how there had been no section for each and all of these books, and yet there were so many evenly scattered. Perhaps that had been on purpose then, not haphazardly placed. But why?

Too busy to think deeply about it, he designated spots fitting each book type, and decided he’d figure out what he’d do with the puzzle later.

It was 6 pm by the time he’d finished the fourth row, and Patton had stopped by briefly to check on his best friend. He watched Patton’s merry expression drop some, concern seeping in as he took in his best friend’s progress.

“It’s almost 6:30, Virgil. Have you had another break yet?” He asked, watching his best friend continue moving back and forth. “Aren’t you tired? It’s been a little under 12 hours at this point, kiddo.. dontcha think it’s time to call it for the day? I mean, you’re already halfway there!”

“Library hours, at least Librarian work hours, don’t end till 9. And yeah, I guess I’m a little tired? But I’m in the zone, Pat. You know how I get when I’m in The Zone. If I stop now, who knows how long it’ll take me to finish sorting the other half?” Virgil rambled, half distracted and still trying to keep a vice grip on his concentration. “And besides, King Thomas said he’d be checking in on me tomorrow.”

“But Virge, you know he doesn’t expect you to have it done in one day. Thomas isn’t like that! That’s why he gave you a whole week to settle in, so you could move into the Library’s living quarters-which you haven’t done yet, might I add!- and get the library situated.” Patton stood stiffly, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. Virgil was as stubborn as he himself was when his mind was made up.

“Look, Pat.. just, I’m sorry. You know I hate to worry you. I’ll try to stop at 10, go home and get some rest, and tomorrow i’ll move my stuff into my new home here. And, i’ll take a break from sorting for a few hours. Okay?” Virgil reached out, taking Patton’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He let Patton pull him into a tight hug, and didn’t resist when Patton briefly rubbed at his tense shoulders.

“Okay. Just, take care of yourself, Virge, okay? If I find out you stayed out an hour later than 11 pm, you’re gonna be in big trouble mister!” Patton giggled, lightening the mood the way he knew how.

“Yeah, yeah, hear ya loud and clear, Dad.” He watched Patton beam at the nickname, and moments later he watched Patton disappear behind the library’s main entrance door as his friend left him be, reassured. Virgil gave a heavy sigh, looking down guiltily at the stray book clutched in his hands.

“Let’s just hope ‘trouble’ just means a week of disappointed reprimands like last time…”

Hours later, Virgil’s head jerked up from his sorting as a father clock somewhere in the library dinged, signalling 10 o'clock. Biting his lip, he walked to the front doors and examined his options. He found he could lock the library from the inside, and pulled down the shutters. Briskly, he moved to cover each large window with their thick drapery, finding the adorning cloth thick enough to keep the low artificial light from seeping out. He dimmed the inner library lights so the library looked closed, but otherwise the building was still functioning from within.

Unless someone else had keys to the doors of the library, no one would know that the librarian was still stationed and working within. No one could see out, and more importantly, no one could see in. Which meant that Virgil was safe from Patton’s wrath if the Cook came to check on him, temporarily at least.

“Fuck, Patton’s gonna be so mad..” He muttered to himself, leaning against the librarian’s desk with a deep sigh. He’d briefly admired the beautiful desk earlier in the day, from the intricate carving to the beautiful dark mahogany. It would serve him well in the future, he hoped, after the thorough ‘grounding’ he knew he was going to get from Patton.

He shook his head to free his thoughts. There was no sense in getting in trouble and feeling guilty about it if he didn’t do anything to learn from in the first place. It was time to get back to work, and if he was lucky, he’d finish the main body of the library by the time his next shift started. Then, he could try and play it off, like nothing had ever happened, he’d just keep Patton out of the library till tomorrow to hide his finished work.

11 pm came and passed as he worked, and when he looked next at the clock, he found it was nearly 4 am. Tired but determined with only one row left, Virgil trekked on with a new vigor. All-nighters weren’t anything new to Virgil, not in the slightest. He was a creature of the night who rarely got a full night's rest to begin with. And sure, it was rare he worked his body so hard and for so long, but fixations were hard to break once in The Zone, it’s not like he could feel it past the hyperfixation haze.

Patton had often told him off for it when they were young, but as time passed they’d come to realize that’s just how Virgil was. Laying down did nothing to lure his mind to sleep on even the tiredest of nights if his insomnia had something to say about it. Better that he used the extra time to be productive, rather than spend 6 hours tossing and turning in bed, numbers and thoughts crowding in his head, and only getting up more restless than before. Patton often just tried to ease the aftermath if he could help it.

Sliding the last book into place was like sliding a final puzzle piece into a massive puzzle. The triumph of accomplishment had never felt so good, not like this.

Though, he quickly found himself aimless not 10 minutes later, seeking errors to fix and lost books to give a home. His brain wasn’t ready to let go of it’s fixation just yet, but as each second crawled by, he found himself recentering into the real world.

His body ached, and he was exhausted. His stomach gnawed at him weakly in hunger and his eyes watered from staring unblinkingly for so long. He eyed the chair behind the librarian’s desk, his desk now, he reminded himself.

“Screw it.. The Library’s sorted enough, I've got the rest of the week to make it perfect. A ten minute nap won’t hurt, right..?” He huffed to himself as he pulled the window curtains open one by one. Shuffling over to the main library doors, he unlocked them and raised the shutters. Soft morning sun rays fluttered into the connected windowed hallway just beyond the doors. He smiled at the tiny beauty of life, spotting the main library windows letting in the same comforting, dappled light.

Pulling his cloak tighter around himself, he plopped into the chair at his desk, finding it soft and comforting. Leaning forward, he rested his head on his arms, and under the fluttering morning light, succumbed to sleep’s gentle embrace.

Unknowing of the rude awakening that was soon to come.

Chapter two

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themadauthorshatter · 3 years

Text

... I apologize in advance.

This is my personal idea for a sequel in The Nightmare Before Christmas, and I hope you all enjoy😄🙏. This whole thing will be TV perspective, like the Sanders Sides Beetlejuice AU. For better context, you might want to check out the OTP headcanons in my master post.

🎃🎃🎃

We begin the day after Halloween, in a meeting between Jack, The Mayor, and Jacob, who's here to take notes on how things are run.

He's a little bored, but he's still taking notes and doing well in dealing with The Mayor's whining.

The meeting wraps up and the Skellingtons leave the city hall.

Jack sighs that the meeting went well, at least better than he thought it would, but Jacob admits that he wasn't expecting much to begin with, save for the usual.

Regardless, Jacob still agrees, but asks if it's really necessary to have a meeting immediately after Halloween, because it seems tedious.

Jack gets the confusion, because this is the third meeting he's attended, and nods, saying that it can be tedious, but they need to be on top of everything, in case something happens, like an idea or something they can't do, and to keep The Mayor calm; he's the real workaholic, not Jack.

Jacob bursts into laughter and Jack, also laughing, tells him to be more subtle because who knows who heard that.

Turns out someone DID hear them.

It's Daemon, who is outside sitting against the fountain because he's bored and wanted to see his dad and brother.

Jack asks why he isn't with Sally or Luna, and Daemon explains they're out looking for herbs to restock. He was offered to go with, but he didn't go because he figured they'd want some mother-daughter time.

Jacob thinks to himself that girls are like that, but asks why Zero isn't with him, at least.

He followed Sally and Luna, and, looking back, Daemon doesn't know which would've been more unpleasant: making sure he stood far away enough for Sally and Luna to talk without losing them or having damn near everyone that walked past him say he looked so much like his father and was probably just as terrifying, and that Jack should watch out because Daemon might scare him under the table.

Jack lightly chides Daemon for the comment, but explains that he'll get used to being called the best as he helps him up.

Daemon humms as he stands and places himself next to Jacob, asking how the meeting went.

As they walk, Jack admits that while it was longer than he'd anticipated, the meeting went very well, so this year's Halloween should be pretty eventful.

Daemon echoes that word, eventful, and we focus in on Jacob as his face turns from relaxed joy to slight boredom and thoughtfulness at what Jack and Daemon said.

Eventful.

Does he want to do 'eventful?' Yes.

Does he know how?

Not yet. Because to him, eventful means whatever new idea his father comes up with.

He's pulled out of his thoughts when Daemon asks how he did, being the next Pumpkin King and all.

Jacob shrugs and says he did okay for his third neeting, but Jack corrects him: he did WONDERFUL, giving ideas that could only be gotten from an outsider, like finding a new way to use whatever was in surplus.

That excites Daemon and he asks if Jacob took notes, so he'd remember his ideas for the next meeting.

Jacob nodds and takes a piece of paper out of his pocket, handing it to Daemon.

Jack reads the notes as well, and his face falls a little as Daemon humms in contemplation.

We do not see what's written, but Daemin returns the note to Jacob, saying that he's written really good notes.

Jack isn't very enthused by what he read, will still agree that the notes themselves are really good.

Jacob notices, but doesn't question it.

They meet Sally, Luna, and Zero at home, glad to see the boys home.

Sally asks how the meeting went and Jack changes his answer from before as he and Sally give each other a peck on the lips, because they're married and love each other.

The meeting went great and this year's Halloween should also be great.

Sally's glad, and so is Luna, who's glad to see her brothers together, all things considered.

Jacob, when their parents' backs are turned, mouths, "Bite me," while Daemon returns the sentiment, asking how her time with Sally was.

Luna holds up a basket of herbs and smiles that she and their mother will have enough herbs to last until spring.

Daemon is very glad to hear it, though Jacob spaces out again, thinking back to the word 'eventful' and his notes.

Speaking of which, Luna asks about the meeting, cause she loves seeing her brother be tormented.

Jacob, unfazed, says it actually went swimmingly, which must grind her gears.

Daemon stops them and suggests Luna get the herbs to the kitchen.

Jacob leaves and goes to his room the put the notepad on his desk. He goes back to his family, but we see what he wrote that got Jack uncomfortable:

Holiday Doors drawn in a circle, each of them with a question mark around them, save for Halloween, because he's already there.

Back with the family, they're eating some dinner, and Daemon's showing his crazy side by wanting to stab his meal to bits and pieces, but not doing it because his mother AND father are at the table.

Luna asks what ideas there are for this year's Halloween.

Jack explains some ideas regarding utilizing spiders and even using shadows a little more, but Jacob is zoning out.

Quick side note here, if we're going off the headcanon that Jack deals with depression or a form of it, then I'm adding that Jacob has some attention problems. He doesn't SEEK attention, he just struggles with staying focused after a while, he fidgets, he gets overwhelmed when his mind's getting off track and he's still trying to focus, he zones out, he fidgets, he gets TOO caught up in doing something after doing it for a while, and, if it's REALLY bad, he dissociates.

TL;DR: Jacob has something along the lines of ADHD and a little bit of Dissociation. Still happy, still healthy, just a little iffy on whether or not he wants the lights on or off upstairs, metaphorically speaking.

Back on track, Jack asks Jacob to explain his ideas, which gets him to pay attention and he obliges.

Turns out one of his ideas involves using the shade and finding a way to get all of the power turned off as to frighten the people even more.

It's an impressive idea, all the same Luna tells Jacob not to get too high on his horse, in case someone with problems gets hurt.

He nods and continues eating, saying he'll keep it in mind.

Sally asks if there was anything else that happened and Jacob denies it, saying Jack would probably remember it all better, anyway.

Luna and Daemon exchange a glance, not fully buying it.

Outside of a window, a centipede looking bug stares at the family before crawling away and transitioning us to the triplets' room, where Jacob is trying to even out his hair for the night before bed. Daemon is laying his pillows out so they form a coffin or a casket around him while Luna braids her hair so it doesn't get messy; have you ever tried brushing yarn out withoit ruining it?

Luna asks what ideas Jacob REALLY has, and Jacob feigns ignorance, that he doesn't really remember.

Daemon gives one of those 'not buying it' "mm-hm"s and Luna folds her arms, asking about the doors he keeps writing about.

Jacob turns to them, eyes asking how she knows about that.

Luna only states that he's just like Dad: the WORST at hiding things that he doesn't want people to see.

Jacob barks at her to drop it and goes to bed.

Luna does the same, muttering that when tbeir father found the doors, it didn't end well for him, so if he wants to be better, he'd better steer clear.

Jacob ignores her and we learn through some internal monologue that he doesn't want to just be better than Jack or his expectations, he wants to exceed him, the town, and everything else.

In their room, Sally spots Jack staring out a window and asks what he's thinking about.

Jack turns and asks if she had any visions on her walk with Luna.

She did, but she wants to know what's bothering Jack first.

Jacob drew the holiday doors while taking notes, and he needs to know that his son is not going to make the same mistake he did.

The two hug and Sally admits she did have a vision, but it just showed one of the doors, the stars exploding, and Jacob running into the woods while she heard nothing but laughter.

Jack holds her tighter and nonverbally promises himself and Sally that he will not let Jacob make the same mistakes as his father.

#the nightmare before christmas #jack skellington #sally skellington #sally ragdoll #jack x sally #oc children #sequel fanfic

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today-only-happens-once · 4 years

Text

Scutum

Title: Scutum

Word Count: 9424

Summary: Sci-Fi AU. Roman sees the weapon first. The rest is just instinct. Found family. Platonic Logince, Platonic LAMP/CALM. Features Cartoon Therapy characters + Remy/Sleep.

Warnings: cursing (a lot woops); whump/angst/hurt/comfort; violence a la sci-fi/sci-fi weapons; science stuff that’s like 10% research and 90% made-up; sci-fi colonization stuff; passing mention of drunkenness; poison/being poisoned; feelings of guilt and misplaced blame and stuff like that; talk of death and dying; Elliot is briefly a little bit of a jerk but they’re anxious/traumatized and also kinda young so they’re doing their best; injury and blood; let me know if I forgot any.

A/N: Have some sci-fi escapist found family hurt/comfort. This took forever, wow. Several weeks and three drafts later and here we are. Glad it’s done! My huge, undying thanks to @creativenostalgiastuff for all of her help as my beta for this fic and answering my many, many questions and dealing with my general self-doubt. First time writing sci-fi. Would love to know what you think! <3

…

Captain Logan Sanders scrubs a hand underneath his glasses and leans his head back against the glass of the circular window. The metal of the spaceship—affectionately coined Foster by the ship’s medic, Patton Hart—creaks with a dull groan. The captain usually uses the window in the ship’s armory when he needs a moment alone, as its size allows Logan to comfortably lean up against the glass and look out into the “void of space”, as their pilot—Virgil Shea—tended to describe it.

Their relations officer and navigation coordinator, Roman Prince, usually hated looking too long at it. Logan had the feeling it made him feel lonely, or homesick. Maybe both.

Logan doesn’t mind it, though he also wouldn’t have necessarily called it a “void”. Billions of stars and the occasional swirl of color meant a certainty of life that existed out there. The universe is always teeming with it, and Logan finds a greater comfort from this distanced reminder than the crowded, bustling bazaars that Roman seemed to thrive in.

Logan hears the door swish open, his head swiveling over towards the sound. The light that floods into the room illuminates the dusty iron walls and the shelves of weapons—phasers and guns lined up beside one another, boxes of ammo on the shelf above—and Logan sees a familiar figure silhouetted against the light.

“Hey, Captain,” Kai Dwyer greets, unfazed by the sight of Logan sitting in the window.

“Kai,” he replies, pushing himself up to his feet off the window ledge. He grimaces slightly as he stretches his back, having forgotten how stiff the metal makes him when he sits too long.

Kai grabs a clipboard off the wall adjacent to the door. “Thought I’d do a quick inventory check before we dock.”

Logan frowns. “Are we close?”

“Virgil said we were still a few hours out. But I wanna be thorough. Make sure I know everything we need before get on planet.”

Logan inclines his head, rolling his shoulders to shake off the lingering stiffness before he crosses towards the door. “Acceptable. Carry on.”

Kai gives a small mock-salute. “Roger that, Cap’n.” The door slides shut behind Logan.

Foster is an old ship. Even to someone unfamiliar with the schematic, it’s evident in the grated flooring, the worn metal walls and beams that hold it together, the way the pressurizer hummed on occasion. Newer models tended to be sleeker, more streamlined, and generally brighter than the dark iron walls that adorned Foster’s interior.

Logan would never admit it—even to his own crew—but he trusted Foster more than he trusted other ships. Logically, he knew it was ridiculous. In the vast majority of cases, Logan believed that newer generally meant improved. But when it came to Foster, Logan had never even considered trading it in for a newer model. Instead, if something needed fixing on the ship, then Logan would consult Virgil and their engineer, Remy, to give Foster the needed updates. The ship was as much a part of the crew as any of the rest of them and it had gotten them through it’s fair share of close calls. As far as Logan was concerned, Foster had earned the loyalty of the crew.

But of course… that an inanimate object could earn loyalty didn’t make logical sense. So Logan kept that particular sentiment to himself.

Logan hears a familiar sound of the door swishing open down the short pathway and sees Roman duck out of his room. The relations officer is wearing his white and red armor suit, and Logan arcs an eyebrow when the officer meets his gaze.

“Hey, Specs.” Roman gives a small salute that echoes Kai’s a moment ago. Logan rolls his eyes.

“Greetings. Might I inquire as to why you’re wearing armor? My understanding is that we’re about to dock for a benign venture.” Logan pauses. “Unless you know something I don’t?”

“What? Oh.” Roman glances down at himself as if he’d forgotten what he was wearing. “Sorry to disappoint, Logan. Patton wanted to check the monitors in the suit, so I’m supposed to wear it around for a little bit. Make sure the readings are all right.” He bounces on the balls of his feet. “I’ve gotta say, Kai’s upgrades to the armor are pretty cool. Check this out.”

Roman stretches an arm out to his side, and Logan has barely registered that his palm has started to glow when something bright shoots out from it and Logan throws an arm up to protect his face.

A moment later, Logan lowers his arm to see a glowing hole through one wall of the ship. Through that hole, Logan sees the med bay and Patton staring out at them with wide, startled eyes. Picani is standing on the other side of the med bay, a ukulele in his hand, having just startled out of the chair he was sitting in. Logan clenches his jaw, turning a frustrated gaze at Roman before he hears the metallic clang of footsteps climbing up the ladder and the unmistakable voice of the ship’s primary engineer.

“Girl, you better not have busted a hole in my ship again!”

At the end of the hall, Remy García’s head pokes up with a glowering look as he pulls himself up onto the top layer of scaffolding. His dark goggles are pushed back into his hair, and he’s got streaks of grease smudged across his forehead and along his cheek.

“Your ship?” Logan asks, crossing his arms over his chest. His comment goes ignored as Remy stalks down the pathway and Roman starts stammering out either an apology or an excuse.

“You’re lucky you didn’t punch a hole straight through the outer shell or we’d all be dead.”

The intercom announces its presence with a familiar click and faint static before Virgil’s voice chimes through, echoing slightly off the metal walls. “Yeah, Remy and I might’ve fixed the damage from last week but we’d rather not test it while we’re floating through the great abyss of space.”

Roman’s holding his hands up in surrender. “It was an accident!” He glances through the hole in the wall. “Sorry, Patton. Sorry, doc!”

Patton waves. “It’s okay!” he calls from inside the med bay.

Picani chuckles and waves as well. “Nobody’s hurt!”

Remy sighs and looks to Logan. “That won’t be the cheapest fix, Cap, and we maxed on the budget for ship fixes last time we docked. That pirate gang did a number on Foster.”

Logan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Roman, it’s coming out of your pay.”

Roman opens his mouth as if to argue, then closes it before nodding. “No, yeah. That’s fair.”

Remy gives Roman one more glare before turning and heading back towards the ladder that descends to the lower deck. Logan is about to head to the bridge when he hears Roman say, “I mean… you gotta admit that was pretty cool.”

“I will admit no such thing,” Logan replies dryly as he heads in the opposite direction of Remy. “At some point, I’ll have peace and quiet on my ship again.”

“I wouldn’t be sure of that!” Roman calls after him brightly.

…

“We’re probably about 3 hours out from docking, Captain.”

Elliot—Virgil’s co-pilot—makes the announcement as the door to the ship’s bridge swishes open. The corner of Logan’s mouth quirks slightly, always impressed by Elliot’s ability to know who was coming through the door without looking. Anytime Logan asked them about it, they merely shrugged.

Foster’s bridge is relatively small. Green, red, and blue dots of lights cover both walls above a row of seats with harnesses for emergency cases. Each dot of light was information about how Foster was functioning, and Logan scans both walls quickly. Everything seemed to be operating efficiently.

“Understood,” Logan replies to Elliot.

A few feet past the emergency seats along the walls are the two pilot chairs, occupied by Virgil and Elliot. Virgil flips a small metal switch, then glances over his shoulder at Logan. Virgil had been the last person to join his team when Logan was first recruiting—Picani, Kai, and Elliot didn’t join until a few months ago. Logan had been uncertain when someone whose call sign was “Anxiety” responded to his flyer in search of a pilot. But word on the street had been that Virgil was the best of the best, and Logan was running low on potential candidates that measured up to his expectations.

Virgil had more than proved the rumors. Logan owed his life to him and his piloting skills more times than he cared to admit. The entire crew did.

“So why exactly are we docking in Vannaheim?” Virgil asks. “Not that I’m not, like, totally jazzed to be going to a planet that’s 99% desert.”

Logan crosses the short distance to stand between the two pilots chairs. “Vannaheim’s dune pattern is being impacted by gravity shifts that they can’t explain. We’re there to take some observations and perhaps help their scientists develop a solution.”

Elliot glances at Virgil, then snorts at the look on his face. “You’re just mad because you can’t wear your hoodie.”

Virgil points a finger at them. “I can, and I will.”

“You will do no such thing,” Logan interjects with a pointed look. “I will not have one of my best pilots suffer heat stroke.”

“It’s my aesthetic and I like to suffer.”

Logan shakes his head, looking out above the ship’s controls to the window that spanned in front of the pilot seats. It was a similar view to the one Logan had been enjoying a moment ago in the armory window, with the addition of Vannaheim in the distance—a small, red and orange planet that was approximately half the size of Earth. Hot and dry, but slightly higher oxygen levels than were present in Earth’s atmosphere.

Logan had been to Vannaheim six years ago when an old friend of his, Corbin Wright, had requested his help with developing vegetation alternatives given the arid biosphere of the planet. He’d been concerned at the potential ecological ramifications should they introduce flora and fauna that were not native to the planet. Instead, he and Corbin and a few other scientists spent a few weeks researching the native vegetation and fauna and determining what options were most compatible with human nutritional needs.

The effort had been met with some resistance from a minority of the colonists on the planet. They formed something of a resistance group—called themselves the ‘Retribution’, which Logan still thinks is a bit excessive—that started with some minor disagreement at community meetings, but quickly devolved into accusations that their ‘way of life’ was ‘under attack’. Which was ridiculous. Logan left as things continued to escalate, knowing that his presence on the planet was likely to only heighten the tensions. It was Logan’s original idea, after all.

When Corbin reached out about the gravitational shifts, he’d said tensions had remained after Logan left—even reaching moments when Corbin worried it would turn violent—but that things seemed to have mostly settled down in the recent weeks. Logan had asked if Corbin was sure that Logan returning wouldn’t have an adverse effect on the peace in the colony.

One way to find out, Corbin had replied dryly. Logan didn’t find it particularly comforting.

…

Two and a half hours later, Logan is passing by the med bay when the click through the ship’s intercom perks his ears.

“Heads up. We’re T-minus 27 minutes until we’ll be pulling into dock.” Elliot’s voice is distorted slightly by the static hum.

It clicks off in the same moment that the doors to the med bay swish open. Patton steps out, looking down at a chart that’s projected flatly from the gauntlet on his wrist. He glances up and smiles.

“Heya, Cap.”

Logan arcs an eyebrow. “Greetings. Everything satisfactory?” He inclines his head to the chart Patton had been looking at.

“What, this?” Patton glances back down. “Yeah. Just going over the charts from the new suit readouts. I was gonna have you try yours on before we docked, but Roman’s little… surprise earlier did some damage to the chest plate as I was downloading the software.” Patton laughs. “Kai said he can fix it, but not before we dock. I did manage to salvage your helmet, though. Ya have a minute?”

Logan follows Patton through the entryway into the med bay. Perhaps “med bay” was a bit of a gracious term for it. The room was relatively small, with two gatch beds fixed to one wall, and a variety of medical equipment and read-outs that Logan only vaguely understood how to use. The room was well-equipped for as small as it was, but Patton was also the only medical doctor on the ship.

On the left gatch bed, Logan sees black armor with blue accents—and the half-melted chestplate. It resembles, in style, to the white and red armor Roman had been wearing earlier.

“I updated the heartrate monitor display, plus the one for oxygen intake,” Patton is saying behind Logan as he minimizes the chart he’d been looking at and moves to a monitor on the far wall. “I also added a body temperature gauge and a toxin sensor since you can never be too careful, y’know?”

Logan nods, lifting the new helmet and inspecting it. The exterior of the helmet looks the same as before Logan had turned it over to be updated. A dark visor shields the face, the rest of it black with dark blue accents. It matches the damaged suit that sits in pieces on the gatch bed.

“Ya like it?” Patton asks. Logan looks over his shoulder at the doctor, who had stopped what he was doing on the monitor to look expectantly at the ship captain.

Logan glances back. “It appears to be the same helmet.”

Patton grins. “Looks that way. It’s cooler now, though. I also added in some ecological monitors. Simple stuff, at least for now. Atmosphere make up, surface temperature. Working on some other stuff, but that seems like enough for a prototype, don’tcha think?”

“I suppose it does make sense to limit variable additions when testing new technology.”

“Try the helmet on for me? Oh, and you should probably take your glasses off. Kai made sure the display will adjust for your vision.”

Logan obligingly slips the dark armor helmet over his head. He reaches up to his temple on the outside of the helmet and presses in. There’s a high-pitched blip and Logan’s vision goes from dark to a bright, staticky blue. Logan instinctively shuts his eyes against the blinding onslaught.

“Yikes!” Patton yelps, and Logan senses him suddenly standing beside him. A slight pressure on his left temple, a quiet blip, and Logan’s vision goes back to black. “I’m sorry, Logan. Not sure why that happened. I’ll have Kai take a look.”

Logan slips the helmet back off. “Not to worry, Patton. I’m confident in Kai’s engineering capabilities.”

Patton gingerly takes the helmet from Logan’s arms and sets it back on the gatch bed in front of them. “Yeah, but still. We were so close to all of you getting to try the new suits!”

Logan rakes his fingers through his hair to pull it back under control from its disheveled state. It was always a mess when he took his helmet off. He slips his glasses back onto his face. “Nevertheless. Roman and Elliot’s test runs on Vannaheim should still be adequate in assessing whether the new software you’ve developed will serve its functional purpose adequately.”

Patton gives Logan’s helmet a sad pat. “Yeah, you’re right. Well, thanks for giving it a shot, Cap! Good luck down there.”

“Your luck is unneeded, but appreciated. Thank you, Patton.”

…

The blast of arid heat stings Logan’s eyes slightly as Virgil lowers the ship’s docking track. Logan smiles politely at Corbin—slightly aged from the last time he saw him, but unmistakable regardless—and the two other individuals that stand with him. Roman and Elliot linger closely behind him as Logan descends the ramp and shakes Corbin’s hand.

“It’s good to see you, Logan,” Corbin greets with a faint smile. “Allow me to introduce you. This is my partner, Sloane. And this is Valerie.”

Logan shakes both of their hands, thinking idly that Sloane’s evident excitable energy rivaled that of Patton’s. Valerie has her dark hair pulled back into a high ponytail, which isn’t necessarily a surprise given the heat. The orange and yellow sands stretch into rolling dunes in the distance, unheeded by the small colony network they’d docked in. A bright blue sky stretches above them, and Logan sees Elliot slip on a pair of sunglasses out of the corner of his eye. Roman squints and brings up a hand to shield his own vision.

“Rainwall’s gotten bigger,” Logan remarks as Corbin leads them from the dock and further into the colony.

The last time Logan had been here, it had barely been a few temporary settlement structures—really just glorified tents, in Logan’s humble opinion--cohesive enough to call a colony network but only barely. The structures look more permanent now, and there are certainly more of them. Pathways between them are not paved but are certainly worn enough with foot and vehicle traffic, and Logan is pleased to see that they put his prior suggestion of solar panels to use. The roofs of nearly every building—most of them white and domed structures of varying sizes—are covered with them.

There’s a gust of wind, kicking up the sand and dust at their feet. Logan turns his face into his shoulder to keep from inhaling. Roman coughs behind him. “Oh great,” he says with an air of drama that makes Logan roll his eyes. “This planet is going to ruin my hair.”

“You get used to it,” Valerie says.

“I definitely do not want to get used to it.”

The corner of Logan’s mouth quirks. “We could return to Dal’tera, Roman.”

“I thought we agreed to never speak of Dal’tera again.”

“You and Virgil agreed to never speak of what happened on Dal’tera again. I made no such promise.”

Although Logan doesn’t turn around, he can feel the way Elliot’s gaze flickers between Roman’s face and the back of his head. “What happened on Dal’tera?”

“It was four years ago—”

“Which is why we are leaving it in the past!” Roman cuts in insistently. “Unbelievable. The lack of trust. First, Kai disables the cool blaster-thingy on my suit, now my own captain is betraying my trust.”

The accusation is empty and with a certain familiar affection underlying the dramatics, but Logan holds his hands up in mock surrender regardless. “To Kai’s credit, you did damage the ship less than half an hour after having the technology made available to you,” he says, and Roman makes an affronted noise behind him.

“It was an accidental—”

Elliot interrupts him, sounding amused. “Did you just call it a blaster-thingy? Really?”

Logan glances over his shoulder in time to see Roman look down at his armored hand. “I don’t know the name for it.”

“It should be named something cool.”

“Yes, I agree. Perhaps we should come up with some options to run by Kai when we return.”

As they pass one of the vegetation fields, a pair of colonists wave at them from a distance. Logan sees Sloane wave enthusiastically in return out of the corner of his eye. Corbin lifts a hand in a more subdued greeting. A pair of children cut out between the buildings in front of them and barely dodge Logan and Corbin at the front of the group, shrieking with laughter. Behind him, Elliot and Roman chat about potential names for the new technology that Kai had inputted into the suit.

It’s a familiar thrum of background noise as they make their way through the settlement. The excitable chatter and increasingly ridiculous suggestions for naming technology makes Logan vaguely grateful that Kai tended to name his own tech rather than leave it to those two. Regardless, Logan is content to let them chatter away. Especially if it kept their attention occupied as they navigate through Rainwall.

As much as the colony had grown since Logan had last seen it, it doesn’t take them too long to reach the far end of the small town. They’re led to one of the white domed structures at the far end of the network of buildings and worn pathways. Corbin inputs a four-digit code into the keypad beside the door, and Logan hears a lock click before the door swishes open.

…

Logan feels the beanbag hit the back of his head for the fourth time and doesn’t even bother to turn around.

“Sorry, Captain!” Roman says, also for the fourth time.

Logan, Corbin, and Valerie had been pouring over data spreadsheets, charts, graphs, and notes regarding the anomaly in Vannaheim’s dune pattern for the past three hours. Roman and Elliot both had tried to assist for the first hour and a half, but while they were extremely bright and intelligent people in Logan’s opinion, neither were particularly practiced or well-versed in theoretical physics or planetology. Elliot’s understanding of piloting had been helpful briefly in identifying some smaller anomalies in the gravitational shifts in the planet’s atmosphere, but that was about the extent that their expertise could help.

The pod—as Sloane had been calling the one-room building they were in—was small and simple on the inside, but certainly functional. The couch and table towards the front of the pod had been pushed against the wall to make room for the game that Roman and Sloane had started with a beanbag that Sloane happened to have handy. Towards the back were several computers, and a few chairs. Corbin sits in one, scanning over the contents of the most recent read-out, and Valerie sits in the other. Logan stands and paces in the space between them and the game of beanbag. There were a few unpacked crates blocking part of the pathway, having previously housed brand-new computer parts.

Roman sheepishly jogs the short distance between himself and the beanbag at Logan’s feet, snatching it up. Logan opens his mouth to say something when Elliot cuts him off, sitting up a bit from where they’d been lounged against the couch.

“Did you guys hear that?”

Logan frowns, but it’s Valerie who speaks up, looking up from the tablet in her hands. “Hear what?”

But then they do hear it. It’s distant, but rapidly getting closer. Shouting. Someone screams. And—

“Was that phaser discharge?” Sloane asks, his face draining of color. Elliot scrambles to their feet, crossing towards Logan and further away from the door.

“Corbin, take Sloane and get out of here,” Logan says immediately. “Valerie, you too. Get somewhere safe.”

The shout is right outside the door. Corbin grabs for Sloane and yanks him back behind him as the door swishes open, fumbling to pull the phaser out of the holster at his belt.

Logan barely has time to register that the strangled cry from Roman is his name before he feels a weight slam into him, sending him crashing to the floor just as phasers go off. Logan doesn’t know who fired first, his ears ringing slightly and Roman, a heavy weight, on top of him.

“I knew he’d come back!” a new voice—grating and sharp and a little hysterical—shrieks. “I knew fucking Logan Sanders couldn’t keep his distance! You’ve ruined our way of life one too many times you fucking piece of—” Corbin fires his phaser, a streak of green light slamming into the figure’s chest. Even through the chaos, Logan can see the switch set to stun.

“Roman,” Logan grunts as he shoves his relations officer off of him, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Roman rolls off him with a tight grimace, an arm wrapped around himself. He doesn’t answer and he doesn’t sit up, and it’s only then that Logan sees the skin of Roman’s waist—a sickly green and black—exposed between his fingers and broken armor.

Logan’s mind kicks into overdrive, the shouting between Corbin, Valerie, Elliot and the intruders overlapping with exchanges of phaser fire fading into background noise.

Logan goes to reach for his comm at his belt before he realizes that it’s been shattered into pieces. Parts of it are melted, apparently having taken some phaser damage. Unusable. Logan changes tactics immediately, pulling the identical equipment piece off Roman’s shoulder and clicks in.

“Foster Crew,” Logan says, clipped and urgent. “Come in. We have a Code Black. Repeat: Code Black. We need immediate assistance.”

“Fucking shit,” is Virgil’s instant response, muffled from static. “What’s your location?”

Logan looks to Elliot on his left, who is staring at Roman with wide eyes having heard the call go through the comms. “Elliot,” Logan says. “Send our location.”

They blink quickly and nod, pressing a button on the gauntlet on their armor before firing another round of their phaser. It cracks against the wall. Elliot ducks back behind the create as the corner of it splinters into shards with a ricocheting crack.

Logan reaches for the wound on Roman’s waist, but Roman won’t move his hands. He’s pale, already with a thin sheen of sweat, and when his eyes flutter open, Logan doesn’t miss the glassy look in them, nor the way that they don’t seem to focus.

“Roman. Hey.” Logan taps his face, then pulls Roman’s hands away. “Look here.”

“Cap?” Roman’s voice is distant. Hazy. Confused.

When Logan yanks Roman’s hands away so that he can better assess damage, Roman makes a noise in the back of his throat that doesn’t sound fully human.

Logan doesn’t respond. The wound isn’t just phaser damage, from the little Logan can see. Phasers didn’t generally turn skin into that green-black mottled mess. There appears to be several tiny puncture wounds. Toxin, Logan thinks, and reaches for Roman’s comm again. He helps Roman sit up and lean against the crate behind him.

“Patton. Come in, Patton.”

Corbin is shouting something from where he’s taken cover against the wall on the opposite side to Logan’s left. He fires twice more.

“Roman’s vitals are all over the place,” Patton answers without having to ask what Logan needed to know. “Toxin levels are elevated and climbing. What’s happening down there?”

“Virgil, what’s your ETA?” Logan says instead of answering. He’s on autopilot, his mind racing. He can barely keep up with his own thoughts. Flashes of green phaser fire streak overhead and leave scorch marks on the white walls of the pod.

“Two minutes but it looks like you guys are pinned down. We’ll do what we can. Might be two and a half before you guys can get out.”

“Is anyone else hurt?” Logan asks to the open air.

“Not yet,” Corbin replies, ducking as another round of phaser fire hits overhead. “They’re Retribution though. No mistaking that.” He aims again, fires a few more rounds. Logan hears something heavy slump to the ground. Roman grunts and leans his head back against the crate he’s propped up against. His breathing is fast and shallow.

Despite himself, Roman gives Logan a pained smile. “I got pretty good reflexes, huh?”

“This situation hardly classifies as a testament to your reflex speed.”

“Virgil always said….” Roman grimaces. Shudders. Tries again. “Virge always said he was fastest but I could give ‘im a…. a run for his money.”

Logan frowns. “Your speech is slurring.”

“Sorry.”

Roman starts saying something about the last time he was drunk—Logan was there; they’d been celebrating Virgil’s birthday—but Logan has mostly tuned him out. His mind is still spinning. Toxin-equipped phasers were new technology to Logan. He’d heard there was potential for it, but he hadn’t looked much into the tech or its development. For it to be possible, then they’d need access to existing natural toxins. Synthetic ones wouldn’t pair as well with the phaser tech and would risk overloading or overheating the weapons. What natural toxins existed on Vannaheim?

More than one, from Logan’s memory. It had been a subsection of his research when looking into native vegetation options from the planet six years ago.

“Logan? Come in. Logan?” Patton’s voice over the comms not only interrupts Logan’s sprinting thoughts, but also causes Roman to cut off his slurred, barely coherent speech.

Logan grabs the device. “Here.”

“Roman’s getting worse. I think he’s panicking, ‘cuz his heartrate is through the roof, but that could also be the toxin. Do you know what it was?”

“I don’t. If I were to guess, based on the damage and situational factors, I’d probably assume it was a hemotoxin or necrotoxin but without more information or the ability to run tests, I cannot be certain.”

Virgil’s voice cuts into the conversation. “T-minus one minute.” Even distorted from the static, Virgil’s voice sounds strained in its own right. “Fuck, I’m going as fast as I can, Logan. Tell Princey he’s not allowed to die before I have the chance to kill him myself for being an idiot.”

Roman scoffs, but it’s weak and pained and sounds a lot more like a cough. “An idiot?” he demands incredulously.

“Message received,” Logan says dryly before setting the comm down. “Roman, take a deep breath.”

Roman sucks in a breath—shaking and thin—and winces. “Ow. Shit.” Roman’s arm wraps around his torso and he tosses a shaky smile to Logan. “I can’t believe I’m really gonna die having never beaten you at chess.”

It’s Elliot that answers him first, their voice tight and strangled and desperate. “You’re not going to die.”

“You’re not going to beat me at chess,” Logan adds. He can still hear shouting outside the pod. Roman gives a breathy laugh before his eyes unfocus again, blinking owlishly. Logan sets a firm, grounding hand on his shoulder. “Focus. Roman, tell me five things you can see.”

“Tell me five things you can see.” Roman blinks hard, then looks around uncomprehendingly. “Where… am I?”

“Vannaheim,” Logan replies smoothly despite the way his chest clenches. He cannot panic. Logan takes a breath.

Roman makes a face. “I hate Vannaheim.”

“Because the wind messes up your hair. Yes, you’ve told me.”

The door swishes open and Logan grabs Roman’s phaser from its holster and fires a shot. It cracks against the wall of the pod slightly to the left of the intruder. Logan had left his phaser on the ship. An oversight on his part. Deal with it later, Logan tells himself firmly.

“A prince has got to slay,” Roman says, his words slurred. He takes a breath that seems to tangle in his lungs, and wheezes out a cough.

“You��re wearing a uniformed suit of armor,” Logan finds himself saying. Wasn’t enough to protect him, something hisses in Logan’s mind. Logan shakes his head quickly. He’d deal with that thought later. “If you’re that worried about your appearance, wear the helmet.”

Logan estimates that it’s been about twenty seconds since his last communication with Virgil and Patton. They hear the door swish open. Valerie fires. There’s a startled cry and the door closes.

“I like the—” Roman cuts himself off with a clench to his teeth, his body visibly shuddering. He curls around himself, his head nearly pitching straight into Logan’s chest. The captain catches Roman’s shoulders, holding him steady until the trembling is back to a more manageable level a second later. He guides Roman to sit back again.

Roman’s head leans back to thump gently against the crate, his brow pinched. “Logan… you’re shaking.”

“Falsehood,” Logan replies distractedly, trying to tune in to the conversation Corbin and Valerie are having on the opposite side of the small pod given the lull in combatants. They can still hear the fight raging outside. Someone screams. Pounding footsteps.

Sloane is typing frantically into one of the computers. A second later, there’s a click by the door. “Doors are locked. Should at least slow them down,” he says.

Corbin glances back at Logan, his chest heaving in an attempt to catch his breath. His jaw sets when his eyes flicker to Roman slumped against the crate.

“You’ve gotta get out of here,” he says. “Valerie and I will cover you. As soon as Anxiety gets here, make a break for it. They’re not here for a war. They’re here for you.”

Logan opens his mouth to reply but Roman’s strained, slurred speech interrupts him. “Logan… give m’ th’ phaser.”

“Why?”

Roman’s brow furrows together like he thinks the answer should be obvious. “Figured I’d take a few of ‘em down with me while… while you two…” He grimaces again, but Logan gets the picture.

“No.”

Roman levels a look that would be a glare if his eyes would stay focused on Logan. “Be logical, Captain.”

Logan doesn’t deign the challenge with a response. He just stares at Roman—the sheen of sweat, the shallow and rapid breath, the way Roman can’t seem to support the weight of his own head—and then looks back at Corbin. “If we flee and they’re here for me, it’s not impossible that they’ll give chase.”

“We’ll ground as many as we can,” Valerie says, quickly adjusting some calibration on the phaser in her hand.

“Captain,” Roman insists, but Logan ignores him.

“Virgil will just have to shake the rest,” Logan says grimly.

“T-minus five seconds. Incoming.” Virgil’s cracked, staticky voice breaks through the comms on Elliot’s and Roman’s shoulder.

“Speak of the devil.”

“Let’s move,” Logan says, crossing back to Roman.

He figures that offering a hand to help Roman stand up wouldn’t be enough support, given that Roman seemed barely capable of holding up his own head. A fireman’s carry? Seemed excessive, at least for the time being. Perhaps Logan would default to that should Roman lose consciousness.

“’m gonna slow y’ down.” Roman’s voice is quiet, and it takes Logan a moment to decipher what he said given the way the words run together.

Logan crouches down and takes Roman’s arm, wrapping it around his shoulders and bracing one hand against Roman’s armored chestplate. “Think you can stand up?”

“Not lis’ning.”

“Answer the question, Roman.”

Roman swallows. Shudders. His arm tightens around his waist. “Yeah.”

“Three. Two. One. Up.” Logan stands, bracing most of Roman’s weight into his side. Roman nearly pitches into the floor, but he manages to get his legs underneath him and though Logan can feel him shaking with the exertion of effort, Roman is standing.

Progress.

“I’ll wait to unlock the door until you guys are right in front of it,” Sloane says and if there’s a bit of strain to his voice—if he casts a long glance at Corbin—well, Logan doesn’t say anything about it.

“Logan,” Roman says. “Lemme… lemme st…” Roman spasms, and nearly pitches right out of Logan’s grip. His hand on Roman’s chest is the only thing that keeps Roman from tumbling to the floor.

Logan goes to take a step with him—he can see black bleeding up through Roman’s neck like spilled ink and it tightens something in his chest—but Roman doesn’t move. Logan gives Roman a sharp look, opens his mouth to explain that they didn’t have time to waste, but there’s something fiery and bold beneath the haze of pain and poison that clouds his gaze.

“’m not worth—”

“It’s not your decision!” Logan cuts him off sharply. Furious. His gut twists against what he knows was the rest of Roman’s sentence. Roman releases a breath that would sound annoyed if there wasn’t a bit of a hitch to it.

“Doors opening in three. Two. One.”

Corbin and Valerie duck out first, and it’s a mess of dust and wind as Foster’s engine roars overhead, touching down as close as it reasonably can. Logan hears the reverberating pops of phaser fire exchanged somewhere in the cloud of dust. Streaks of green light criss-crossing in the sand-clogged cloud around them. Corbin yells for them to go. Elliot fires off a few shots of their own, sticking close to the two of them to fill in the gaps of phaser coverage left between Corbin and Valerie.

They run.

Or, as best as they can manage. It’s barely a loose jog, really, with Logan having to support most of Roman’s weight. But Roman manages to put one foot in front of the other and from his strangled breathing and how hard he’s shaking, Logan knows it’s about all Roman can manage to do.

Logan estimates that the distance between the pod and Foster is about a hundred or so meters. At the rate they’re moving, it should take them about twenty seconds to reach the docking ramp that Virgil lowers as soon as they touch down. Maybe less than that, if they can push the pace a bit more.

It takes ten seconds before Logan feels bright heat rip through his upper right bicep. Warm liquid spills down his arm.

“Captain!” Elliot yells, alarmed, over the chaos.

“I’m fine,” Logan grits out. “Go! Go!”

Patton meets them on the docking ramp, his eyes wide, and takes Roman’s other side to help Logan get him the rest of the way up. Elliot fires their phaser twice more as the ramp closes before ripping their comm unit off and calling into it.

“Virgil, punch it. We’re gonna have tails.”

“Fuck. Everyone accounted for?”

Logan grabs Roman’s comm. “Affirmative. Get us out of here.” Logan braces himself, and Roman, for the shift as Virgil lifts them off and takes off.

Roman sways.

Patton reaches for his wound. “Ro—”

The navigations officer collapses. Logan grunts as he and Patton both catch him before he crumples entirely, the effort tearing at the wound in Logan’s arm. Bright, hot pain ripples down his arm and up through his shoulder. Logan clenches his teeth against the sharp cry that tries to tear up his throat.

“Roman!” Elliot steps forward, but Logan holds up a hand, trying to get his breathing back under control from the fresh wave of pain.

“No, Elliot. Pilot with Virgil.”

“But I want to help!”

His arm is throbbing and Logan glances down at it, noting with a certain level of detachment that it just looks like a normal graze. No sign of toxin damage. “Help Virgil,” Logan tells them firmly, leveling a steady gaze that leaves no room for argument.

Elliot’s expression darkens before they turn and head towards the cockpit.

“I gotta get Roman to med bay,” Patton says quietly. “And get you patched up too.”

“I’m fine,” Logan says, helping Patton hoist Roman up from his half-collapsed state on the floor. “Just a graze.”

“But still.”

“It’ll heal, Patton.”

“Logan.”

Logan’s jaw snaps shut. He gives a single, stiff nod in return.

…

The next several minutes are frantic.

Patton and Logan carry Roman to the medical bay and Patton immediately pries Roman’s suit off him to get a closer look. It’s a flurry of movement as he hooks Roman up to various machines to read off information about his vitals, extracting some of the toxin from his system so Patton can run different tests on it separate from Roman’s body, all of which is made more challenging by the frequent shift in g-force as Virgil and Elliot try to lose the ships that had followed them off Vannaheim.

Logan is still on autopilot. He doesn’t stop moving. Logan helps Patton as much as he can, and it’s not until Patton is very gently helping Logan into chair to bandage his wounded arm after Roman has been fully equipped that Logan realizes the warm liquid that he’d felt down his arm was his own blood. Logan stares at Roman on the gatch bed with numb detachment and lets Patton clean and wrap the wound in his arm. It’s while Patton is tying the knot on the bandage wrapped around Logan’s bicep that Virgil clicks on over the intercom.

“I think we’ve shaken the last of them. Status update on Princey?”

Logan and Patton exchange a glance. Patton offers a sad smile and slight lift to his shoulders. Logan stands from the chair and walks to the intercom on the wall. He presses the button, waiting for the click before he speaks.

“No change. Did we take any damage?”

It’s Remy’s voice that answers him. “She’ll hold together, but Foster’s warp drive is out of commission until we can dock and I get some parts. What the hell was that all about?”

Logan swallows and leans his head against the wall for a moment. A damaged warp drive meant that getting to the next planet would take a bit longer than originally planned. He glances over at Patton, whose lips press into a grim line. Logan swallows before he answers over the intercom. “It appears that some prior work I did on that planet in an effort of sustainability warranted a minority of individuals harboring some… hostility.”

Behind him, Patton is peering at the monitors with Roman’s vitals. “Seems like more than just some hostility.”

“And we’re sure Wright is gonna be fine down there?” Virgil asks.

“Reasonably,” Logan replies. “Their hostility was directed predominantly at me.”

“And yet Roman—oh, wait. Hey, Cap, you might wanna come up here. We’ve got a message inbound from Vannaheim.”

Logan sighs. “I’ll be right there.”

Logan isn’t sure what to expect. He can’t fairly say that he is surprised. It made sense that they would attempt contact, especially given that they had successfully evaded their trail. And expecting the message to wait certainly wouldn’t have made sense—they’d be out of signal range within a few minutes. Logan considers, briefly, letting the message go unanswered. But there couldn’t be any harm in talking, right? Perhaps Logan could even appease them enough to quell some of the hostile action that could—had, did—put innocent people in harm’s way.

His arm throbs. Logan looks over his shoulder at Roman, prone on the gatch bed. Pale, except for the side that got hit being a smattering of mottled green and black. The black bleeds in curling tendrils across his chest, up his shoulder, his neck.

Patton catches him staring and gives him another one of those sad smiles. “I’m doing what I can for him, Captain.”

Logan swallows and nods. He squeezes Patton’s shoulder on his way out.

He tries very hard to not look at the hole through the wall that Roman had blasted earlier today. Instead, he focuses on the weight of his measured, calculated footsteps against the grated scaffolding. The very faint and yet oddly familiar, comforting scent of iron that lingered on the inside of the ship despite Patton’s best attempts to fix it. He counts in his head how many steps it takes from the door of the med bay to the cockpit.

The answer is eighteen.

The door swishes open and Virgil cranes his neck around. Elliot doesn’t even show signs of having heard the door opened at all.

“Ready, Captain?” Virgil asks, his finger poised over one of the buttons in front of him.

Logan steadies a hand on the back of Virgil’s chair and nods. “Yes.”

The screen in front of them blips on and Logan stares in surprise as Corbin, Sloane, and Valerie’s faces fill the frame. “Hey, they made it!” Sloane says brightly. Logan can still feel tension pulling his shoulders taught.

“Barely,” Elliot says, so quietly Logan almost doesn’t hear it. Logan sees Virgil glance at them, his brow furrowing.

“How’s Roman doing?” Valerie asks.

“We’re working on it,” Logan says.

“You mean Patton’s working on it,” Elliot cuts in.

“Yes,” Logan acquiesces. “I do mean that. Our ship’s medic, Patton Hart, is doing what he can. How are things there?”

“Our earlier assumptions proved accurate,” Corbin replies with a shrug. “They followed you. The ones that didn’t were angry, but hostility tapered off once they realized they were outnumbered and that you were gone.”

“I apologize for bringing you under some fire. That wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s not like you could’ve known,” Sloane says with a dismissal wave.

“We’re about to lose signal,” Virgil says quietly.

“Hey, keep us updated about Roman, will you?” Corbin asks.

Sloane and Valerie both nod. “We’re just as worried about him as you are!”

Elliot mutters something under their breath that Logan doesn’t quite catch, but from the suddenly furious look Virgil shoots them, perhaps it was better that he didn’t. Logan assures them that they will let them know as soon as there’s any change to report. Virgil cuts the feed and flexes his grip around the ship’s controls.

“What the hell was that?” Virgil demands suddenly. For a moment, Logan frowns in confusion before he realizes that the question was meant for Elliot and not himself.

“Forget it,” Elliot replies with a quick glance to Logan.

“Bullshit,” Virgil shoots back. His grip on the controls look too tight to be comfortable. “You’re not good with confrontation. Fine. But you don’t get to sit there and make passive-aggressive jabs at our captain after the shit-show we just dealt with. One that he got you out of, I might add. What’s wrong with you?”

“Okay—” Logan says, placatingly, but Elliot interrupts him.

“What’s wrong with me?” they demand, waving a hand towards Logan. “What’s wrong with him? He doesn’t seem phased in the slightest! Roman was shot trying to protect him and he just acted like he didn’t care—”

“Because that’s his fucking job!” Virgil turns a glowering look onto Elliot.

“Virgil,” Logan tries, bewildered at the argument, but they both seem to have forgotten that Logan is even there.

Virgil continues, tearing his gaze back to the stars stretching in front of them. “He’s the Captain, Elliot. It’s his job to make sure shit gets done, and that is especially true when one of us gets hurt. Logan doesn’t fall apart during a crisis but don’t you dare suggest that means he doesn’t fucking care.”

Elliot is silent. Logan doesn’t know what—if anything—he should say. Virgil heaves a sigh and rakes a hand through his long bangs. “I mean, shit. Look, I know today has been a lot. The past two hours have been a lot. And you haven’t been with us very long. But if you don’t know anything about our Captain, know this: Logan speaks how he cares in his actions. All you have to do is pay attention.”

Logan blinks. He forgot sometimes how closely Virgil watched other people, including himself. He’d noticed it in the beginning when Virgil had first joined, but Virgil had mostly dismissed it and said it was an “anxiety thing”. Logan didn’t know that he believed that, but over time, Virgil’s steady, watchful gaze had become less unsettling and more comforting. Until Logan forgot entirely just how much Virgil paid attention to the people around him.

Elliot sighs. They don’t look up, but Logan hears their words regardless. “I’m sorry, Captain. I was… unfair.”

“It’s understandable,” Logan replies, surprised at being suddenly addressed. His mind is still reeling. Too full of information that is racing through his mind to fully process the argument that just ensued. “Take a breath, Elliot. Get some rest.”

“I…” Elliot looks like they want to argue, but they seem to change their mind. They stand up and look to Virgil. “Are… you good?”

Virgil glances at them, and something softens in his expression. “Yeah, kid. I’m good here.”

Elliot nods absently, then disappears through the cockpit doors. Virgil glances over his shoulder at Logan. “You should get some rest too, Captain.”

“I’m fine.”

Virgil sighs. He doesn’t press him.

…

Days go by. Patton manages to get Roman to stable vitals and Logan thinks he can hear the collective sigh of relief across the ship when the announcement comes over the staticky intercom. But Roman doesn’t wake up, and Patton tells them that he isn’t sure when—or if—it’ll happen. Logan spends most of these days in the med bay, doing what he can with his scientific knowledge to assist Patton’s tests on the toxin. Kai joins them for short periods of time, putting his knowledge of weapons and tech to some use in the long hours.

They manage to come up with an antidote somewhere around what would be a little past two in the morning Earth-time of the second day. It cleanses Roman’s system of the poison, but damage had been done. It was difficult to ascertain exactly how much.

Logan doesn’t sleep much. He thinks Patton notices, but whenever the doctor tries to bring it up, Logan shrugs him off. His usually rigid circadian schedule had been disrupted by bad dreams that echo with Sloane’s pale face and Elliot’s shaking hands and Roman’s strained words. The last words he’d gotten out. I’m not worth—and every time, Logan wakes up before Roman can finish the thought. So Logan gets enough sleep to function, and he spends the rest of his time in the med bay and around the ship making himself useful.

All the crew find time to stop in on occasion as the days press forward. Virgil and Elliot take shifts. Picani makes sure that Patton and Logan are eating, and sometimes sits and talks to Roman’s unconscious form. Patton does that too—talk to him. Whenever he gives Logan an update with a new chart read out, he speaks as if Roman can hear him.

When Logan eventually asks him about it—if he thinks Roman can hear them—Patton lifts a shoulder and replies, “I don’t know. I hope so. And it helps me to talk to him anyway, y’know?”

Logan tries it when Patton goes to bed that night. He sits in the chair that Remy had grabbed and set beside Roman earlier that day and listens to the way the silence of the ship at this hour seems to echo against the old metal walls and bracing. Foster had been quieter in general in the past several days. Less laughter. Less teasing. Less… vibrant.

“That’s your fault, you know,” Logan says quietly, looking at Roman. “As much as I always complain about your insufferable noise level, I’ll admit I had grown… accustomed to it.”

Roman’s face is still startlingly pale, but it had lost the sickly sheen of sweat. He breathes evenly. Regularly. Logan listens to it for a moment, grateful that it at least wasn’t the shaking, shallow wheezes it had been on Vannaheim. The black-and-green stain on Roman’s skin had mostly faded. He’d have a scar, Patton said, on his waist where the initial hit happened. But the rest of it should go back to normal in a day or two.

“Now the quiet just seems…” Logan sighs. He listens again as the ship groans. “It seems heavy. Though you’d probably mock me for the use of the chremamorphism. Ordinarily, I’d qualify it with literal or figurative, as I know that silence cannot carry a physical weight, but…” Logan breaks off. It feels like a literal weight, hanging over the ship like a fog and darkening the iron walls. Weighing on the shoulders of those who move within the space.

Logan sighs. Scrubs a hand across his eyes under his glasses with exhaustion. “There’s something that has been bothering me, Roman. Something that I need to say to you.”

Logan leans forward. Bows his head. “You tried to tell me that you weren’t worth the risk of getting you to safety. Which is, honestly, bullshit. I don’t leave my people behind, Roman. You, of all people, should know that. And you… you shouldn’t have taken that shot. That was meant for me.”

Logan wonders, now that he’s said it aloud, if the weight on his shoulders from the silence is really the weight of his own guilt. Poised over his head like a pendulum on the verge of snapping.

Bearing Roman’s weight on Vannaheim had not felt this heavy. Logan realizes suddenly that his hands are shaking. He clasps them together in front of him between his knees.

“I’m the Captain,” Logan says. “It’s my job to keep you all safe, and I let you down. That’s on me. And… I am sorry, Roman. I am sorry for my shortcomings as a leader and as a friend. Because if you felt unworthy of being saved, I’m afraid I have failed in both responsibilities.”

A voice from the door to the med bay startles Logan. “It isn’t your fault, L.”

Logan looks over his shoulder towards the sound and finds Virgil leaning against the entry way. Logan blinks in surprise. He hadn’t even heard the doors open. Virgil just watches him with a quiet, unwavering gaze, even if there’s something a little softer in his eyes than Logan is used to seeing.

“Virgil,” Logan greets, pushing his glasses further up his nose and standing. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Virgil shrugs a shoulder, glancing to Roman. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d check in on Princey.” He pauses, his gaze flickering back to Logan. “And you, too.”

“I’m fine.”

“He doesn’t blame you for what happened,” Virgil says, stepping further into the medical bay and letting the doors swish shut behind him. He’s got his hands shoved into the pockets of his purple plaid-patched hoodie.

Logan shakes his head. “But I do. I should have been more vigilant.”

“Weren’t you the one who taught me that dealing with ‘I should have’ is a dangerous and unproductive thought pattern?”

Logan hesitates. He can’t argue with that. He remembers the conversation from years ago. “Roman shouldn’t have been put into that situation.”

“He did it to protect you.”

“I didn’t ask him to do that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“But—”

“Logan,” Virgil cuts in, tossing his hands up in exasperation, “All of us? On this ship? We’re a family. You didn’t ask for that, but it happened. You are not the only one who cares about other people on this ship.”

“I know that.”

“Then know that any one of us would do what Roman would do if meant protecting you. We look out for each other.” Behind him, the door swishes open again but Virgil doesn’t even turn around. “We protect one another. All of us. You protect us, we protect you. That’s how this shit works.”

Patton steps into the med bay in a cat onesie. His pajamas. He pads quietly into the room, tugging the hood off his head. “Virgil’s right, Cap. We’re a family here. Like it or lump it.”

“And while this may be your ship,” Virgil says as Patton crosses to the monitors on the wall. “We don’t plan to go anywhere any time soon. You’re stuck with us.”

Despite himself, Logan cracks a faint smile.

“Yeah,” croaks a voice from the gatch bed that makes Logan whirl around. “Couldn’t get rid of us if ya tried, Cap.”

Roman’s eyes are open and glinting with something that Logan can’t quite decipher in the dark. Amusement, but something softer too. Patton gasps and rushes over, helping Roman sit up a bit more and grabbing the glass of water with a straw that he’d been refreshing each day for this very event. Roman takes a grateful sip and leans his head against Patton in silent gratitude. Patton smooths his hair with a gentle pat before helping Roman lean back in the bed again.

“How do you feel?” Virgil asks.

“Like I was shot.”

Virgil snorts.

Patton asks him a series of questions that are a bit more pointed—“Any dizziness, Roman? Do you know who I am? Do you know where you are? Are you feeling nauseous?”—and adjusts some of the machines to accommodate for an awake patient. Roman is a bit slow with his answers, and a bit slower still for the orienting ones, but he answers them accurately and cracks a few jokes in the meantime, and Logan just watches, feeling some of the tightness in his chest ease a bit.

When Patton makes a joke and the ship hears Roman’s laughter for the first time in almost a week, Logan thinks maybe he’ll finally be able to sleep through the night.

...

Tags: @helloisthisusernametaken, @ren-allen, @quoth-the-sparrow, @princelogical, @random-pianist, @ravenclawicecream, @erlenmeyertrash, @milomeepit, @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes, @rileyfirstname, @pinkeasteregg, @sassy-in-glasses, @vigilantvirgil, @generalfandomfabulousness, @lacrimosathedark, @thepoolofthedead, @monikastec, @heir-of-the-founders, @yourworstnightmare999, @artistictaurean, @kanejandkruge, @cdragontogacotar, @damienswifeolicitydallysgirl, @angst-patton, @savingshae, @noneed4thistbh, @awesomelissawho, @unikornavenger, @bopthesnoz, @spiralofsilencetheory, @finger-gunsss, @crownswriter123, @swlotakulady34, @gaylotusthatexists, @analogical-mess, @dolphidragon, @flix-net, @narniasfinestavengingsociopath, @friedlieb-ferdinand-runge, @bibbidy-bobbity-booyah, @procrastinations-my-middle-name, @theburntesttoast, @monroig, @secretlyawyvern, @puddinglec4t

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #lamp/calm #logan sanders #sanders sides fanfic #sci-fi au #violence tw #cursing tw #heed warnings #blood tw #injury tw #hurt/comfort #angst #whump #let me know if other warnings should be in the tags themselves too!#kjfksdjfksdlfj #hope it turned out okay

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Illusions of Grandeur… Or Perhaps Just Illusions (Part 2) [A part of the Illusory Records Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Remus & Janus

Characters: Remus, Janus

Summary: Remus is training to be an undercover super-agent, but training is boring. So, being Remus, he… finds some “fun” (read trouble) with the city’s resident vigilante Deceit.

Janus is confused as to why this toddler dressed as a traffic cone won’t leave him alone.

This story is set in the Labeled Universe and takes place about 4 years after Sometimes Labels Fail, but runs pretty adjacent to Virgil, Logan, and Patton’s story.

Notes: Superhero AU, mind manipulation

AO3 Part 1

Stupid superheroes, Deceit thought to himself as he strode down an alley towards his secret base. Since when had superheroes gotten effective. Back in his day, superheroes were blundering idiots who were only good for punching things and creating property damage. When had all of these young brats decided to come out here and be good at things like subtlety and undercover investigation? When had they started caring about actual fundamental problems in the system instead of just showing up when some supervillain tried to make a death ray? That was Deceit’s job. They were stepping on the toes of vigilantes everywhere. Just because one of them lived cloaked in shadows and mystery did not give their little preschooler team-up the right to perform covert ops.

Janus had been doing surveillance on the Riddlon family for months now trying to figure out just what they were doing, and those two heroes had the audacity to show up at the exact right moment, clearly already well-aware that it would be the exact right moment, and tore down their entire smuggling operation a moment before Janus had planned to. How dare they?

He blamed the bloody bird.

Setting a good example and being a mentor to the younger generation. Who did he think he was? Deceit grumbled to himself and started putting his gloves on as he walked. He wouldn’t need to use his powers any time soon and, while he didn’t strictly need them as he was going back to base, it felt weird to be without them.

He paused at the end of the alleyway to use his powers to scan for any missed onlookers before opening the secret entrance to his base. He paused, eyes narrowed and turned his head to look behind him when he felt a presence.

“Halt villain!” a grandeurs voice said when he saw him looking. He put on a show at looking heroic, but it was a hard sell considering his costume.

Deceit wearily turned around. “You’ve got to me kidding me,” he almost groaned. Speaking of young superhero brats. It was Traffic Cone. Ever since the man, no child, had first seen him that day with Brigs, he’d been trying to track Deceit down. One would think that after seeing what Deceit had done to Mr. Penguins that the boy would get the message not to mess with the vigilante who’d been working in the city for probably decades before he was even born. Yet, the kid must have a chip on his shoulder or something, because he’d been persistent in following him around ever since. Deceit had managed to avoid him up until now, but he’d been tired and apparently had a lapse in vigilance.

“Fight me!” Traffic Cone insisted, shucking off his hero stance and tone to replace it with a slightly maniacal grin. Stupid idiot hero with delusions of grandeur. Did he really think he’d even get close to winning against Deceit?

“Look, kid,” Deceit ground out. “I don’t feel like kicking your ass today.”

“Well I do! And I finally caught up with you, so you’re not getting away from me without a fight!”

Deceit arched an eyebrow. “You do?” he clarified with a smirk. “You do feel like you want me to kick your ass today?”

Instead of getting all stuttery or angry and arguing that, no he’d meant he felt like kicking Deceit’s ass, he just stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry.

Deceit gave him an irritated look, feeling his already steaming agitation boil over. “Fine,” he snapped.

“Really?!” he looked almost excited, like a puppy wagging its tail. “So, ho- where did you go?”

Deceit rolled his eyes and took a step towards him, feet light even if they didn’t have to be since the illusion that Deceit was no longer in the alley that he’d just placed in the kid’s mind would supersede his natural senses. Traffic Cone’s eyes bopped around the space in confusion.

“Oh, I see,” Traffic Cone said after a brief moment of confusion, causing Deceit to pause a few feet away from him. “This is part of it. You’re still here, you just are making me think you’re not.”

Deceit hummed. Astute. Most people were panicking by now, but Traffic Cone was calm and accurately able to piece together what had happened.

“Alright then,” the man said cheerfully. He put his hands up in a typical boxing stance. “Let’s go!”

Deceit just shook his head, unwillingly amused with him and side stepped him. He positioned himself so the kid wouldn’t be able to lash out and hit him with his super-strength in the split second between when he’d feel Deceit’s touch and when the illusion would take hold. Then, Janus stripped off one of his gloves. He didn’t need to touch someone to activate his powers anymore. He was long past that. Yet, physical contact still gave Deceit more precise control over what he did to someone, and he didn’t want to accidently shove the dumb toddler into a nightmare if he resisted too hard.

Gentle, he reminded himself as he reached out. He’s an annoyance not an enemy. His fingers descended on his forearm, and the boy went still.

“Oh,” he said, blinking fast as though trying to remove something from his eye. Deceit made the alleyway around them fold and spiral away from his perceptions. “T-that’s weird.” There was a spike of fear, but it was more instinctual than anything real and was easy to bat away. It was surprising, actually, the lack of real fear. Most of the newbie cops and baby supers that came after him were doing so because they considered him a threat. So, most panicked when they felt themselves slipping under his power. Yet, Traffic Cone was steady under it. Deceit didn’t even sense any embarrassment about being taken out so fast. “It’s like a tilt-a-whirl,” he breathed.

Deceit arched an eyebrow. They were usually too trapped in their own minds at this point in the process to speak. That was strange, but what was even stranger was how the boy’s mind held steady in the transitional phase of fuzzy white and black that rippled like TV static across all of his senses. Usually one’s mind would start filling in the gaps automatically, grappling for some sort of calm in the storm, and Deceit would just push it away from anything dangerous. Yet, Traffic Cone seemed to be oddly be content to rest in the nothing. Deceit didn’t know what to make of it.

Despite his curiosity, Deceit still shoved at him gently until he teetered off the edge into what Deceit thought was the memory of three different locations. Most of the space Deceit saw was a childhood bedroom with cheery aquatic animals on the walls and a colorful rug, but what tipped him off to the fact that it wasn’t just one location was the out of place full sized bed with the dark green comforter and the matching nightstand with a murder mystery novel on it’s top. It was an adult bedroom, likely his current one, familiar and comfortable but not sentimental. The last location bled through only in the structure of the walls and a fireplace. It seemed to be based off a cabin in the woods if the view of the sun setting over a lake outside the large window on one wall was anything to go by. It was probably a place he’d visited a few times and had a good time at.

Even though it was a mixture of locations, the memory seemed strong. Nothing was fuzzy around the edges and the inclusions from each place were logical in its construction. It was tidy and calm. The fireplace gave off waves of warmth and it smelled vaguely of cedar. He imagined the blankets on the bed were soft to the touch and all was quiet except for the crackle of the fire. Deceit was impressed. He’d expected a mess of a mind from how he’d seen the boy act, but this was decidedly not.

After a pause, Deceit drew away, leaving him inside that illusion. “Let’s get you back to Brigs.” His eyes flickered to Janus to Janus’s surprise. He shouldn’t be taking in any external stimulus yet with the attack so recent and Deceit still so near.

“Okay,” he agreed, voice distant. If Janus didn’t know any better, he’d say that the kid must have some sort of mental power. The problem with that conclusion was that he’d already read up on him when he’d started following Deceit around, and his power was reportedly super-strength. He shook the idea of the boy having a mental power away. Surely, he would have met at least some resistance if that were true, and Deceit had met less than normal.

“Come on, Traffic Cone,” Janus said, physically and mentally nudging him back towards the street. Deceit threw up a small field around them to keep passersby from seeing them and then checked the hacked security cameras on his phone. As expected, Brigs was sitting in his car in one of his usual spots. It wasn’t too far, and they could walk there easily.

It was a few minutes of walking later that the boy looked up slowly. “I told you I didn’t choose the costume,” he grumbled.

Deceit blinked at him but didn’t comment on his unusual lucidness.

Upon Deceit allowing the man to see him and Traffic Cone, Brigs laid his head briefly on his steering wheel. If Deceit cracked a smile, there was no one around to see it.

Brigs exited his car and looked Traffic Cone over with a sigh. “I told him not to.”

“You always do.”

“This was fun,” Traffic Cone said with an out-of-it giggle. “We should do it again some time.”

“Is he always like that?” Deceit asked tiredly.

Brigs looked over at the man with annoyance and maybe an iota of affection. “Unfortunately.”

#sanders sides #janus sanders #remus sanders #platonic demus #tsss #labeled universe #illusory records #adriana writes #superhero au #mind manipulation

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peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years

Text

chapter 22.5

When My Phone Turns Off

You can all thank @ciaraparkie for pointing out that this is the best way of doing this particular plot point. You can assume it occurred yesterday after the events of chapter 22, or today before the events of the next chapter.

Jens is glad this is one of the days they’ve planned to meet up with Sander after school so they could all head to the skatepark together. He never thought he’d be so happy about such a thing, but he’s a little relieved to have that extra source of support. Robbe, however, gives him a worried glance and leans in close to him, asking, “Is it okay that Sander’s here?”

Jens purses his lips and nods, squeezing Robbe’s shoulder reassuringly. Sander notices, and obviously understands, asking, “You’re doing that today?”

“Yeah,” Jens sighs, glancing at Moyo and Aaron a few paces ahead. He doesn’t know why he’s worried. At this point, they’ve spent enough time with Robbe and Sander that it’d be impossible to still be secretly hiding any problem with it. At least, he thinks so. At this point, they’re actively supportive.

But for Jens to come out now, months later...he’s worried it’s going to be a little weird. Again.

“Yo, pussies,” Moyo calls back to them. “Are you planning on actually making it to the park today or what?”

Jens flips him off and he laughs, pushing Aaron ahead of him and jogging on down the street. Robbe gives Jens a small smile and Sander gives his back a reassuring pat. Jens takes a breath and follows them.

At the skatepark, he sits at the top of a ramp with Sander and watches the others do a few runs. He waits for Robbe to start showing off, but he’s too busy sending glances at them to try many tricks. Sander watches him in awe regardless, sitting silently next to Jens with his camera at the ready.

“You don’t have to tell them today, you know,” Sander says. “When Robbe asked, he was trying to rush you.”

Jens sighs. “I know. Of course I know that. But I’ve already been not telling them for weeks.”

“Yeah but you’ve only known for weeks. You don’t owe it to anyone to tell them. Not if you don’t want to, not before you’re ready.”

“It’s different, though,” Jens points out. “With Lucas. There’s more to it than just telling them I’m bi.”

“You’re what?”

Jens and Sander look up to find Moyo standing behind them, face surprised as he stares at Jens. Jens can’t see any malice there, any disgust, and yet his chest tightens all the same. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He was supposed to actually tell them, not have them overhear. Sander sends him a look, worried and apologetic, and Jens simply shrugs. He isn’t going to take it back now, even if it isn’t going exactly as planned.

He didn’t have that much of a plan in the first place.

He catches Robbe’s gaze and beckons him over, watching him collect Aaron on his way. Moyo sits down next to Jens as Robbe jogs up and tucks himself into Sander’s side. Once Aaron’s seated next to Moyo, Jens twists around to face them and tries to be comforted by the knowledge of Robbe and Sander at his back. Moyo’s eyes flit over his face, questioning. “You’re bi?”

“What?” Aaron asks, mouth dropping open.

Jens smiles slightly and gives them a small shrug. “Yeah.”

Moyo licks his lips, shaking his head, as Aaron blinks at him. “Since when?” Moyo asks.

Jens hears Sander huff a laugh. “Since always, I guess. Since when have I known? A few weeks.

Moyo nods, looking straight ahead. Aaron looks between the two of them before settling his focus on Jens. “And what,” he pauses, clearing his throat, “what made you, uhm, realise this?”

Jens bites his lip, debates for a second, and then says, “It was Moyo, actually.”

Moyo whips back around to look at him, wide-eyed. “Me?” he demands, as Robbe bursts out laughing.

Jens joins him, giggling lightly as he says, “No, not like that. Damn. I mean, when you told us to check out other YouTube channels, I...I found this guy.” Moyo nods in understanding and waits for him to continue. Jens sighs. “It’s kind of a long story?”

Moyo shares a look with Aaron, then shrugs. He offers Jens a smile. “We’ve got time.”

So, Jens tells them much the same story as he told Robbe. He allows himself to go into a little more detail, backtracking when he realises he’s left something out. Robbe points these out occasionally, when Jens gets lost and starts going too fast, but aside from that there aren’t many interruptions. Moyo and Aaron listen intently, as does Sander, taking in Jens’s full account of the story instead of Robbe’s passed-on information. It makes his chest pinch, talking about it again, talking about it out loud, reminding himself of Lucas at all. It also feels therapeutic, more so than when he talked about it with Robbe, when the hurt was still too raw, the wound still too fresh. There’s still a thread of pain there, twined tightly with a spool of anger, all doused in the overwhelming feeling of loss that he’d felt even before blocking the boy, as soon as the realisation had set in.

Moyo and Aaron are silent when he’s done, taking it all in, considering. Jens doesn’t expect to get anything new out of this, doesn’t expect them to give him any reassurance that Robbe hasn’t already.

Still, they try.

“Maybe he is telling the truth, though?” Aaron tries. “About you, I mean. It sounds like he was being sincere?”

Moyo nods. “Yeah, man. Like, why would you go to that much work just for a joke? And why would he follow you, like your posts and shit if he was just playing a game?”

“He didn’t know it was me,” Jens points out.

“When he followed you, yeah,” Moyo agrees. “But after that? It doesn’t fit. Why would he flirt with you, and come out to you and whatever all for a joke? I would’ve been the kind of person to take the piss like that and I never would have gone to that much effort. That’d take like, a seriously sick person. And I don’t think this dude is like that. Really.”

Jens sighs, slumping until his back hits Sander’s shoulder. Sander makes a small noise of protest, but doesn’t push him off. Robbe laughs quietly and says, “I’ve already told you all this, but if Moyo thinks it's sick and wouldn’t do it, I can’t imagine Lucas would. Imagine how much of a dick he’d have to be.”

Moyo flips Robbe off, but also gestures his agreement. Jens smiles, shaking his head at them. “I was hoping you two would be on my side,” he jokes.

“Well this whole not thinking he’s really into you thing reminds me of another situation,” Moyo points out, with a pointed look over Jens’s shoulder. Sander squeezes Robbe closer to his side and drops a kiss onto his head. “And it worked out okay for them.”

“He has a point,” Sander shrugs, purposefully jostling Jens and earning a grumble in answer. “If he really means that much to you, maybe it’s worth fighting for him.”

“Or at least forgiving him,” Robbe adds softly. Jens looks back at him and Robbe gives a little shrug. “You’ll never be able to let it go if you leave it without some kind of resolution. You’ll always either be mad or wondering if you were wrong. Or both.”

Jens really hates when Robbe’s right.

Still, he shakes his head. “I can’t go back on myself now. I definitely can’t be the one to reach out. That’s a whole new level of pathetic.”

Aaron shrugs. “Maybe he’d like you taking pathetic to a new level.”

Moyo looks around him and makes a face. “What the fuck, man? No. He’s not doing that.” He turns back to Jens. “You’re not doing that, right?”

“Right,” Jens agrees quickly. Even if he’s willing to forgive Lucas, or at least hear him out, at least consider that he was honest about his feelings, he isn’t going to go crawling back to him. Ever. Lucas doesn’t deserve that amount of attention from him. But, maybe he could be convinced to unblock him, eventually. To leave the ball in Lucas’s court.

He’ll have probably already moved on by then, anyway.

“What does this guy look like, anyway?” Aaron questions. “Did you do as well as Robbe?”

Jens snorts as Sander grins, but he pulls up a pic of Lucas. “Nice,” Sander says.

Jens twists around to look at him. “Robbe didn’t show you?” Sander shakes his head, so Jens passes him the phone.

Sander considers the last image Lucas posted, complete with his personal favourite black and white filter, and simply comments, “Cute. I understand why you’d watch his videos.”

Robbe makes an indignant sound and Jens laughs, passing the phone to Moyo and Aaron, who huddle together to examine it. They both hum, and Aaron shrugs as Moyo gives the phone back to Jens. “I mean, he’s no Sander, but…”

“But he’s pretty fucking pretty?” Jens finishes. “Yeah. I know.”

Sander reaches around Jens to pinch his cheek. “But not as pretty as you,” he cooes. Jens bats him away.

“Listen, we can’t tell you what to do, but Robbe’s right. I think you should give him a second chance,” Moyo says.

Jens raises a brow. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be so…”

“Supportive?” Robbe offers.

“I was gonna say chill but, yeah, actually.”

Moyo huffs, looking away from them as he says. “I get that last time wasn’t my best moment but...I’m not good at apologising, okay? I know I’m not good at these things. I’m learning. But you know I love you, man,” he punches Jens’s arm. “That’s enough, yeah?”

Jens nods, returning his smile. Since the start of their friendship, Moyo’s been closer to Jens than he ever was to Robbe. Their friendship maybe even improved after everything, when Moyo made it clear that even though he wasn’t sure how to react and didn’t know how to be supportive at the time, he wasn’t willing to lose Robbe over it. Jens is glad the same sentiment extends to him, and that he’s coming out at a time where they’re all a bit more educated.

“It won’t be a problem anymore if you’re all done coming out to me,” Moyo points out, giving Aaron a look. It takes Aaron a moment to notice him, but then he starts sputtering, pointing out that he already has a girlfriend and being hit back with the reminder that all three of the others also had girlfriends.

“Okay but wait,” Aaron says, returning his attention to Jens. “Does this mean you’d fuck me?”

“Man,” Moyo says, as Robbe and Jens start laughing.

“No. Sorry bro,” Jens apologises.

Aaron groans. “Who, out of us then?”

“Obviously me,” Moyo says.

“No,” Jens laughs. “Out of you? Sander.”

“Really?” Sander asks, sounding genuinely intrigued.

Robbe moves from under his arm, sitting up to pout at them. “Hey, Sander wasn’t an option last time, it’s supposed to be out of the Broerrrs.”

“Sander is an honorary Broerrr,” Jens points out.

“True, but Robbe’s right,” Moyo says. “Sander wasn’t an option last time.”

“Then Robbe,” Jens says immediately. Robbe cheers, offering Jens a fist bump.

“Seriously?” Aaron gawks. “What the fuck.”

“You’re last again, man,” Moyo laughs.

Aaron protests, “No, he didn’t pick between us.” Moyo rolls his eyes, but they both look to Jens. Jens points at Moyo and Aaron groans.

While they’re laughing, Jens feels at peace. He realises that, for a moment, he’d completely forgotten about Lucas.

#van der stoffels #vds #jens x lucas #wtfock #skam nl #when my phone turns off #wmpto

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starry-knight-skies · 4 years

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Title: Meant To Be Yours Summary: From the moment they met, Logan knew he and Virgil were meant to be together. There was just something about him that called to his soul, that drew him in like a moth to a flame, and Logan did not have the will to resist. He could see their future together and nothing was going to keep them apart, he wont’ let it. Virgil doesn’t have a choice. Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 (sorry this took so long, future chapters won’t have as long of a wait) Virgil was by no means, a morning person. He hated how early he had to get up if he wanted to use the bathroom before Remy got in the shower. He hated the sounds of birds right outside his window and while he hated eating right after waking up, he did choke down some toast and a cup of juice before grabbing his bag and heading out the door. It was too early to get a ride from his brother and his happy, upbeat music that he liked to blast in his jeep. Remy would go pick up Patton, and Virgil didn’t want to get worn out from their bantering so early.

He didn’t mind walking to school, when the weather was nice. It helped to wake him up, and he got to listen to his own music. Some days, Roman would happen to swing by and give him a lift… as a friend. A friendly lift. Between friends. And okay, maybe he liked starting his day seeing Roman smile at him before he had to interact with the other students. Can you really blame him? Roman was… He quickly shook his head. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t here right now, and if he let himself get lost in his thoughts, he was going to be late to school.

The halls were crowded when he stepped into the school building, and he hunched his shoulders up as he made his way to his locker. He could hear a headache forming as he heard someone screaming down the hallway and he sighed, not understanding how someone has so much energy so early. Patton was highly energetic, but he’s never been one to scream randomly like some people.

“I saw you hanging out with Logan yesterday.” Patton spoke up as Virgil opened his locker, leaning against the one next to it. “What’s he like?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, huffing softly in amusement as Remy stepped up to shoo Patton out of the way. “He’s alright I guess. Kind of quiet, keeps to himself mostly. But we actually have a lot in common, which will make this year go a lot smoother than anticipated.”

“So he’s not a stuck up asshole?” Remy asked, sliding his sunglasses into his bag and pulling out some textbooks.

Patton frowned slightly at him, crossing his arms. “Hey now, let’s not be mean. He’s always been nice and kind when we’ve spoken. Just because he’s a little standoff-ish doesn’t make him an asshole.”

It was no real secret that Patton has had a crush on Logan for the last two years, and Virgil honestly felt a little bad. Logan seemed pretty oblivious to the flirting, but Patton remained optimistic. He’s said on many occasions he’d be happy even if nothing happens between them as long as they could one day be friends. A sentiment Virgil knew that Remy shared in regards to Patton, and he kind of felt bad for his brother… not that he’d ever admit it out loud.

Remy just grumbled under his breath, turning back to his locker, and Patton turned to smile hopefully at Virgil. “So since you and Logan are going to be working together, do you think he’ll want to join us for lunch?”

Virgil shrugged, shutting his locker and shoving his books in his bag. “I mean, I could ask him.” Logan always seemed to like eating on his own, away from everyone else, but it couldn’t hurt to ask if he’d want to join them. The worst case, he says no… and he goes to their teacher and requests a different partner and spends the rest of the year making snide, hateful comments towards him… No, no no no. He needed to stop that spiral immediately.

“If Logan’s going to be joining us, does that mean Roman will too?” Remy asked, shutting his own locker. “He’s partnered with you Patton, right?”

Patton perked up, eyes nearly sparkling. “Ooh! That’s a good idea! I’ll ask him!” His grin turned sly as he turned to face Virgil. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you Virge?”

Virgil felt his cheeks heat up slightly. “He can sit with us if he wants.”

“So you don’t want Roman to sit with us?” Remy asked, a teasing tone to his voice. “I would think you’d want to, what with your crush on him and all.”

Yep, Virgil’s cheeks were definitely burning by now. “I don’t have a crush on Roman.” Sure he thought he was pretty… and smart and nice and kind. So what if he likes spending time with him? That didn’t mean he had a crush on him!

Patton and Remy exchanged an amused look. “So do you want him to sit with us or not?” Patton asked, biting his lip to keep from grinning too hard.

Virgil huffed. “Like I said, he can do what he wants.”

“We could just ask him right now, you know.” Remy very pointedly looked behind his brother.

Virgil tensed up, spinning around with a hand flying to his hair to straighten it out, before letting it drop when he saw no one there. He turned back to glare at his brother, frowning at the grin on his face. “Ha ha, very funny.”

Patton and Remy burst out laughing, Patton leaning slightly against Remy’s shoulder, causing him to flush slightly. Virgil gave him a very pointed look, which got him a warning look in return. Remy shrugged out from under Patton, taking a step back from the group. “Roman’s in my homeroom, I’ll ask him if he wants to join us then, okay?”

“Okay!” Patton bounced slightly enthusiastically, giving Remy a big smile, which he returned albeit softer. He stepped up to Virgil, hooking their arms together as they made their way to their homeroom, a bounce in his step. This was great! He’d get to spend more time with Logan, and he could encourage Virgil to act on his crush on Roman! Everybody is happy, everybody wins!

Taglist: @viana-dascolli @kaykayblogs @fanatic-kay @space-captain-lars @crowsmadreadful @mostcertainlynotcis @roman-deserves-love @emmillie @sanders-sides-stuffs @probablysomeproblems @wistful-wish @emeraldmelody @fanderrawr @samuel-the-gay @nerdycupcake559 @escalatingtoofast @potentially-a-human @wolfie979 @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @hissingvirgil @supersoftsupersleep @canelazombie

#virgil sanders #remy sanders #patton sanders #obsessed logan #meant to be yours #starry writes #prinxiety #this chapter got long so I had to cut it in half #so for now #take this fluff #and pining

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foreverfangirlalways · 4 years

Text

The Astronomer and The Florist (Chapter 8)

Summery: Logan and Virgil talk about their relationship, as well as their plans for the future.

Ships: Analogical & Royality

Warning: Worrying, self doubt, oblivious gays

-let me know if I need to add more warnings-

Just a little fluffy chapter to apologize for Michael.

(Also, props and kudos to everyone who realized that Michael is from Cartoon Therapy! He’s Elliot’s boyfriend who never shows up!)

----

They stayed like that in Logan’s car, Virgil nestled in Logan’s lap, quite and content for a few minutes before Virgil spoke again.

“So... boyfriend, huh?”

-_-_-_-

Logan blushed, and buried his face in Virgil’s hair.

“Yeah,” Logan said, holding the h note, “you caught that?”

Virgil laughed, and moved his face to where he can speak to Logan clearly without lifting his head from Logan’s shoulder.

“Well, with you yelling it at Michael twice, it would be hard to miss!”

Logan just groaned and hugged Virgil tighter. He had done it now. Now Virgil would tell him about how he doesn’t feel comfortable with Logan saying that, and how they should just be friends...

Unbeknownst to Logan, Virgil was have the same dilemma. Virgil was thinking, ‘great, now he thinks I’m a weirdo. He’s probably staying quiet to figure out a way to tell me that it was just a spur of the moment thing. He probably just wants to stay friends...’

Virgil shifted in Logan’s lap, pulling them both out of their thoughts. Logan smiled, took a deep breath, and started talking.

“Virgil, I’m not always great expressing my feelings, and...”

Virgil tensed, preparing for what was sure to come next. Logan continued.

“And I know I said I wanted to get to know you longer, but the last three days I have spent talking to you have been the greatest and most enlightening three days of my life. I already feel so close to you. You are just so sweet and kind and beautiful, both inside and out. That being said, I would love to be more than your friend, if it’s not too fast for you.”

Virgil, not sure if he could trust his ears, looked into Logan’s eyes. Logan’s eyes are very expression, and Virgil was almost shocked by the amount of adoration and apprehensiveness he saw there. Logan was just about to apologize when Virgil wrapped his arms around him and buried his face into his neck.

“Oh thank God! I thought you were just about to tell me how you just want to be friends and it was a spur of the moment type of thing.” Virgil said, clearly relieved.

Logan paused, and then lifted Virgil’s chin so he could look him in the eyes.

“Are you serious? I thought you just wanted to be friends! I figure I’m being pretty clear with how I feel, what with you still sitting in my lap and me holding you and all.”

Virgil blushed, and just hugged Logan tighter. “Score 1 for oblivious gays, huh?”

Logan laughed and nodded. “Sooo... since we both care for eachother very much and would like to see this progress, will you... be my boyfriend?” Logan asked.

Virgil smirked. “Hmm, why not? But only on one condition.”

Logan raised one eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yep!” Virgil chirped in affirmation. “I’ll be your boyfriend officially as long as you go on a date with me. Tomorrow. An official first date, because I don’t think this one counts.”

Logan was pretty sure his face was going to cramp from all of the smiling he’s been doing.

“Of course my dear! Do you have anything in mind?” Virgil blushed at the pet name and nodded.

“I was thinking about... stargazing?” Logan was positive that his face would never drop the smile he had.

“Of course, I would love that! We can even get coffee beforehand and eat breakfast afterwards.” Logan said, bring up their previous ideas of a stargazing outing. He had texted ‘it’s a date’ because he knew that Virgil would blush from it, but now he couldn’t wait for his wishful, joking comment to become a reality.

Virgil grinned, recognizing the plans, and nodded. “That sounds perfect!”

Logan chuckled, then looked at the time on the dashboard. “Excellent. Now, how about I take you home?” Virgil looked at the time and nodded, a little surprised that they have been just sitting there and talking for an hour.

Virgil regretfully slid out of Logan’s lap, but Logan kept the middle compartment up, and patted the seat next to him when he finally situated himself in the drivers side.

Virgil happily slid over, buckling up and leaning his head on Logan. While neither of them were much for public displays, they were both loving these small, private shows of affection.

They stayed like that until Logan pulled into Virgil’s driveway. Logan unlocked the doors and squeezed Virgil’s hand.

“You better go get some sleep. I hear you got a pretty big date tomorrow with your boyfriend.”

Virgil blushed at Logan’s words, and squeezed his hand back. “I do! I can’t wait to go out with the most handsome guy I’ve ever met!”

It was Logan’s turn to blush. “I assure you, he feels the exact same way.”

Virgil, deciding to go ahead and go inside before he self combusts, simply smiled and bid Logan a good night. Logan repeated the sentiment, and then Virgil watched Logan drive off.

As soon as he was sure Logan could no longer see him, Virgil started jumping up and down and flapping his hands. “Eeeee! I can’t believe that really happened!” Virgil squealed to himself.

Logan, all the way at his house, was doing the same thing. Both boys fell asleep relatively easily that night, eager and wanting to be well rested for the big date.

They both dreamed of getting lost in the constellations of the others eyes.

Taglist-

@five-falseh00ds-ph0nated

@dragonwithproblems

@sanders-sides-with-quinn

@aleiimm

@007ardra

@yikesdodson

@kawaiikat54

@thefingergunsgirl

@nerdycupcake559

@softestvirgil

@teacupfulofstarshine

@impatentpending

#Analogical #Royality #Sanders sides #Thomas Sanders #Virgil #Logan #Patton #Roman

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thylalock · 4 years

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Title: The Shoe Game By: thylalock Characters: Tom Blake, William Schofield, Sepoy Jondalar, Sergeant Sanders Pairing: William Schofield/Tom Blake Summary: “Who’s more likely to say something embarrassing—” Tom raised his cherry bouquet, prompting the crowd to burst out laughing. “I was going to say ‘in their sleep,’ but I think we’re quite convinced now.” Tom and Will had a shoe game on their wedding day. Additional Tags: modern AU, blakefield, jondalar is our host, the convoy boys are present and occasionally making hilarious remarks, instead of shoes blake uses a cherry bouquet and scho uses a handkerchief, sergeant sanders is blake’s landlord and is our narrator A/N: as told by Tom’s landlord, Daniel Sanders.

—

“Ladies and gentlemen, and now onto the most anticipated part of today’s event where we can glimpse into the couple’s lives: The Shoe Game!”

The crowd cheered, prompting Daniel Sanders, Tom Blake’s landlord, to chuckle to himself. Sitting at the edge of the crowd and nursing his drink, Sanders allowed a small smile to play on his lips. Thomas Blake and William Schofield sure did take ages just to admit to themselves they were in love with each other, frustrating the poor old landlord who had been trying to knock some sense into the the boys’ head, but looking at the couple’s happy faces, blindingly bright with joy, he could almost say it was worth it.

It was a small wedding, not too crowded, with only the couple’s most dearest people invited. Though Sanders only knew a handful of the guests there—Tom’s mother and brother, Will’s mother and sisters, Will’s landlady, and a bunch of Tom’s friends from uni and work who would come to pick him up for drinks on Saturday nights—it was unmistakable that the couples were loved by those closest to them.

The venue was quite simple, not overly decorative or extravagant, but it was visible that Tom and Will’s personality bled into every inch of the place. The walls were decorated in white linen sprinkled with warm fairy lights here and there, giving the whole place a sense of warmth and welcome and the feeling of being home—Will’s idea, no doubt there—but at the edges, adorning lamp holders, snaking around pillars, and blooming in the middle of every table, were plants and vines and bouquets of cherry blossoms—Tom’s side. The whole event, including the way that Tom was dressed in a light grey suit and Will in sharp black, was a beautiful display of the contrasting natures of the two.

Two chairs had been placed in the middle of the front space, facing away from each other, and on each of them was a bouquet of cherry blossoms and a plain white handkerchief. Sanders didn’t even need any explanation to tell which one was whose.

It was quite funny to see the two of them sitting with their backs on each other, with Tom grinning widely at the crowd and Will looking quite calm himself, as though acting like each other’s antithesis.

“Okay, I should think this one needs no explanation for you two, but I’ll explain it nonetheless,” the host, a tall handsome man with an Indian look, who Sanders had gathered to be one of Tom’s friends too, said. “I’ll read out a few questions and if you think the answer is Tom, you can raise the cherry bouquet, if it’s Will you can raise the handkerchief.”

Sanders and a few of the guests let out a soft laugh as the host turned to the crowd to say, “yeah, he’s modest that way.”

“Alright, let’s give it a go shall we? Who does the dishes more often?”

Tom and Will brought up their handkerchiefs in an almost mirroring movement it was almost comical, as though without any doubt.

The host smiled, laughing in a low voice over the mic. “That was a test—we all know Will does all the dishes, but good to know you’re getting the hang of the game!”

At this Sanders let out a hearty laugh along with the rest of the guests. True—even in his own flat he had caught the younger man letting Will do the dishes when Sanders passed by his door, and on more than one occasion no less.

Tom was visibly turning quite red on his rosy cheeks, a trait which Sanders had always found adorable because it gave away the younger man’s emotional state the way a ten years old boy couldn’t hide his feelings, but he was laughing nonetheless, accepting defeat. Will, on the other hand, smiled and began chuckling, a sign that the host had successfully broken the ice.

“Question number two: who has the bigger wardrobe?”

This time, as sure as the first question, the couple raised their cherry bouquets in unison—Will with a comical expression of defeat on his face and Tom with a rather smug smile on his lips, taking pride in his sense of fashion. No surprise there—the idea of having the grooms dressed in contrasting suits were probably entirely Tom’s idea.

“Who is more likely to cry during a sad movie?”

One of Will’s little sisters said, “Will?” but then covered her exploding giggling when the couple brought up their cherry bouquets.

The host joined the guests in laughter, turning to face her to acknowledge her earlier comment. “So much for thinking Will is the sentimental one, right?”

Sitting beside her, Sanders could see a man, who Sanders recognized as Tom’s brother Joe, shooting back a reminder, “give him dog movies!”

A low buzz of chuckling spread around the small crowd—apparently everyone was familiar with Tom’s love for dogs. Sanders himself had to deny the young man his request to get a dog in the flat at least a dozen times, reminding him that he worked almost all day long and wouldn’t be there to actually take care of it.

On the front, Tom feigned defeat. “No! Not dog movies!”

The host gave a good-natured laugh, before carrying on, “who's more likely to say something embarrassing—”

Tom raised his cherry bouquet, a confident expression written on his face as though accepting that particular side of his nature, prompting Sanders and the rest of the crowd to burst out laughing. Even the host had to double over to hold himself from laughing too loud into the mic.

He gathered that the host hadn’t finished his question, but that was fair enough. Even as a landlord, Sanders had witnessed how Tom’s carefree and honest and uninhibited personality had contributed to some embarrassing remarks said by the young man.

The host walked up to pat Tom on the shoulder. “I was going to say ‘in their sleep,’ but I think we’re quite convinced now.”

At the finished question, Will brought up his handkerchief, saving Tom and bringing the crowd to another round of laughter.

“I’m sure we’re all tempted to ask what, but that’s got to be for another time,” the host said. “Next question: who takes longer in the shower?”

There was a unanimous shout of “Tom!” coming from Tom’s friends, all clustered together on one corner of the crowd, and at Will’s approving wave of his cherry bouquet, Tom brought up his own bouquet in confirmation. True—sometimes even Sanders had been left with the job to entertain the boys who had come to pick Tom up because the man took forever in the shower.

“No surprise there,” the host said, smiling as he peeked into his question list. “Who is the better kisser?”

When Tom and Will visibly took their time thinking and smiling to themselves, the crowd began cheering and the boys actually wolf-whistled. Sanders could barely hold himself from covering his face in his palms at the way the grooms slowly brought up the other’s attribute slowly, as though they were bashful twenty years old lads again, completely in love and aching for each other, driving the poor landlord insane, and not a couple getting married today.

The guests went mad.

One of the boys actually cried out, “oh my god, get a room!”

He was answered with a playful remark from another boy in the group, “shut up, Cooke!”

“It’s okay Cooke, they’ll get a lot of that in the following days,” the host interrupted, taking it as his cue, although he was still laughing. “Moving on: who is a bigger baby when they're sick?”

Again, there was a unanimous vote of “Tom!” from the boys, rivaled only by Will quickly shooting up his bouquet.

No surprise there either for Sanders, considering how many times Will had knocked on Tom’s door, bringing hot foods and basically taking care of him like a husband even before they were together.

In front of the hall, Tom smiled bashfully as he brought up his bouquet in admittance.

“Who will kill the spiders in the house?”

Tom quickly shot up his handkerchief, waving it as though they were in the bathroom and it was a cry for help to kill the spider under the sink. On the other side, Will didn’t bring anything up for quite a time, laughing to himself.

The host turned to Will. “No one? Will, you’ve got to turn around, he’s basically crying out SOS.”

Will turned around and Tom waved his handkerchief at him, raising his eyebrows and prompting the older groom to laugh.

“I guess that would be me,” Will admitted, bringing up his own handkerchief.

“Well, someone’s always got to kill the spiders, even if they don’t like it,” the host concluded. “Who is the better driver?”

This prompted the guests to giggle because Tom and Will brought up their own attribute for this.

They each turned around, an expression of surprise etched to their faces as they found out they both took the credit.

“You can’t even find the nearest chemist!” Tom gave a jesting argument.

Will replied something in return, but it died amidst the laughing guests.

“Will said Tom can’t parallel park, which is true,” the host chimed in, earning a playful smack from the younger man. Sanders had to agree with the host though, it always baffled the landlord how Tom could get his driving license when he always parallel parked his car in such a mortifying angle in front of the flat.

“Next question: who is the better cook?”

Unequivocal vote of “Will!” from the boys, to which Sanders agreed. Tom shot up his handkerchief while Will took his time raising his own handkerchief, as though not quite certain of his cooking skills. Sanders smiled to himself—the man was being too modest, everyone was a chef compared to Tom.

“Who is in control of the remote?”

Both brought up their bouquet, which did not surprise Sanders.

“Who will be most likely to wake up grumpy?”

There was a divided vote for each groom from the guests, but ultimately both Tom and Will brought up their handkerchief.

“When you first met, who made the first move?”

Tom shot up his bouquet quickly, looking quite smug, while Will only laughed before he brought up his bouquet in agreement.

“Who said I love you first?”

With more confidence, the couple raised their handkerchief in unison as the crowd cooed in soft “aww.”

“Who proposed?”

This drew a round of cheering and clapping from the guests, as Tom and Will both raised their handkerchief and bouquet. Sanders himself had his jaw dropped. He remembered that particular day because Tom was both too excited and nervous and bubbly that morning, and far too jittery than what he could face later that night, but he didn’t know this was what happened. It was almost comical to see that they didn’t even need to turn around to know that the other was raising both of their attributes.

The host was visibly surprised, barely containing his own laughter. “What? How did it happen?”

“I was planning to propose,” Will said. “but it didn’t quite turn out the way it was supposed to, but apparently Tom’s also planned to propose on the same day. It was crazy.”

“We both had our rings that day,” Tom chimed in. “We end up wearing each other’s.”

“Oh, what wouldn’t we give for something like this, eh?” the host commented, earning a round of laughter and ‘aww’, especially from the ladies guests.

“Now, moving on to the last but most important question,” the host made a dramatic pause as he looked up from his question cards. “Now that you’re married, who’s more likely to say: it’s high time you start taking out the bins?”

Tom and Will brought up their handkerchief, and a nice round of applause closed the game in a nice wrapping.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, please join me in inviting the grooms to dance their first dance as married husbands!”

Fin

—

A/N: Prone to say embarrassing things, taking forever in showers, being a baby when they are sick, can’t cook to save their life? Basically, Blake is me. I’m sorry for embarrassing him a lot, in a way it’s me confessing my sins AHAHAHAHH

HFJDKHFJKDHFKD I do hope things didn’t come out too cringey because this honestly the first time I’ve written anything other than angst, and a humour no less, so really if you can’t finish it I really won’t blame you ahahahahh

However, constructive criticism is always welcomed! This is honestly my first attempt at humour, so if it’s not working I really won’t be offended if you say so. Thank you nonetheless for reading! What am I doing running away from Celestial, lol!

#blakefield #the shoe game [blakefield]#1917 fanfic #my writings #tom blake #william schofield #thomas blake #will schofield #1917 #*

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sign-from-god-complex · 5 years

Note

“You are very endearing when you are half-asleep.” with analogical?

Hope this is okay!!! I was feeling soft on this fine evening and decided to project that softness onto Logan, as I am wont to do.

Tag list: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard @shadowsfromthesun @teadays @sandersships @mctaetae613 @autism-goblin @deadlyhuggles6 @romanthestarstruckqueer @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear @rainboots-are-for-snobs @sanders-and-sides @spirits-in-my-thoughts @kee-and-co @autistic-virgil @stop-it-anxiety-official @figurative-falsehood @jadedfantasies231 @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @poisonedapples @sanders-screams

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Logan woke up gradually.

His dream had ended just a few minutes before—lost to his subconscious, as Logan had never been particularly invested in remembering his dreams. He could feel the warmth of a body next to him, the sound of slow, consistent breathing and he opened his eyes, noting the way the early-morning sunlight streamed in through the gap between the curtains.

The small strip of light illuminated a portion of his bedside table and Logan reached out to grab his glasses, settling them on his face before turning over again to gaze at his husband.

It was a lazy day—a Sunday—one where Logan had no papers to grade and Virgil had been writing enough to be granted a break. As such, Logan felt no hurry in awakening his husband. Instead, he just watched the rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips were slightly parted and his hair was messy and let a small smile rest on his face.

Virgil had always been so easy to love.

That fact may seem surprising to those who don’t know him well as Virgil often appeared stand-offish or rude, but there was never a moment in Logan’s mind where he doubted his feelings for him—not, at least, after those feelings were accepted for the first time. Even throughout all their fights—in the moments Virgil was difficult and the moments Logan was cold—he still loved him.

Sometimes it was a frightening thought because Virgil could shatter his heart in an instant. Mostly, though, the thought of the love they had kept him warm when he was feeling alone, knowing in all of his being that the sentiment was returned.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat awake, admiring his husband and trying to reconcile in his mind what he could have ever done to deserve such an excellent best friend—there was no clock and his phone was on the nightstand, silent, and Logan didn’t care much to retrieve it. Soon enough though, Virgil’s eyes fluttered open, squinting at Logan in the dim light of their bedroom.

“You’re thinking too loud.”

Logan laughed, surprised and yet not. His husband had certainly never been a morning person, not by any stretch of the imagination, so he was used to a slightly grumbly Virgil at most hours before 10 am.

Roman would likely say that he had to deal with a grumbly Virgil at all hours of the day, but he didn’t get to see Virgil late at night, granting him slow, lazy kisses and loving looks; he didn’t get to see Virgil flustered when Logan complimented him, blushing instantly and trying to hide his smile; he didn’t get to see Virgil after he published his first book, beaming like an idiot and pouring every inch of that happiness into a kiss.

So truly, Roman couldn’t say jack shit.

“My apologies, love,” Logan replied, placing a kiss on Virgil’s forehead and watching his cheeks stain with red, “I’ll make sure to keep my thinking to a minimum from now on.”

In response, Virgil just mumbled something unintelligible, burying his face into his pillow. Logan pushed a hand into his husband’s hair, amused by the way he melted into his touch—he’d learned very early on that was a weak spot for Virgil and he’d be lying if said he didn’t use it to his advantage any chance he got.

“You know, you’re very endearing when you’re still half asleep.”

Virgil turned so he was facing his husband, cheek still squished against the pillow beneath him. “I’d like to think I’m endearing all the time.”

Logan was pleased Virgil had decided to go for the more optimistic route with his retort, as opposed to his old brand of self-deprecating humour. Despite the fact that they were jokes, those words still stuck with Virgil, working their way into his subconscious and keeping him locked in a less than ideal place—but they were working on that now.

His comments still were only jokes but Logan refused to treat them as such because every “ridiculous” claim Virgil made about being beautiful or talented Logan knew to be undeniably accurate. Even if it was something Virgil couldn’t see.

“Mmm, that is true,” Logan murmured, “But I find you especially endearing now.”

Virgil, apparently deciding it wasn’t worth it to protest, simply hummed lightly in response.

After a few minutes of contented silence, Logan wondering for a moment if Virgil had fallen back to sleep, Virgil squirmed his way forward until he was eye to eye with Logan—close enough that each exhale could be felt against the other’s skin. Instead, though, of the lips Logan had been expecting to feel, Virgil wrapped his arms around his husband, pressing his face into the crook of his neck.

Every inch of love Logan had stored in his body for this man surged up to the surface, leaving him with no choice but to wrap his arms around Virgil in turn. He felt like he was melting—it just wasn’t possible to feel this much and still be alive.

Yet here he was.

“Would you like to go back to sleep?”

The only response Logan received was a whine, Virgil nodding his head against Logan’s shoulder and he slipped a hand back into Virgil’s hair, now able to feel the way Virgil almost instantly softened. It was almost as if something in Virgil just knew that Logan was safe and he could relax, knew that he was loved in this moment—more than he could possibly imagine. Logan felt something in his chest warm at the thought.

“Sleep now, then, V,” he whispered, holding him close and pressing his lips against whatever skin he could reach, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

So, soft and safe in his arms, Virgil drifted back off to sleep—his breathing evening out once again and his grip on Logan becoming looser. Eventually, Logan would have to get up—start his morning with coffees and chaste kisses and crossword puzzles he was only just cognizant enough to solve—but for now, he lay here with Virgil tucked into his chest and his hand carding through his husband’s hair, and Logan too fell back to sleep.

#sanders sides #analogical #logan sanders #virgil sanders #lo can write #a lunar interlude

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seblaine-rph · 3 years

Note

Can we talk about how Gradian might be just as bad as Joie?

If you want to tell me what brought you here with this comment, go ahead. I don’t have any insight on what their dash looks like and I assume that’s why you’re here. If @gradianvillagerp wants to take a look at the info below, they might improve their rp and grow by learning a thing or two. Remember that having a complaint lodged and/or showing you what you’ve done wrong while unaware that it was wrong is not as big of a problem as reacting poorly once you’ve been told.

Looking at their main, I see they’re 1. using a known abuser as their main mascot and 2. there are multiple problematic fcs on their masterlist. I’m confused by the fact that there are abusers on their masterlist and there is an abuser for their mascot but they have people on their banned fc list because they’re also abusers. So I guess we’re picking and choosing which abusers we like and which are triggering. I’m also seeing 3. ethnicities not matching properly for canon families. 4. They also have Kristen Stewart as an fc, even though she’s asked not to be used as an fc because roleplay makes her uncomfortable. Jensen Ackles is on the masterlist too, and he is an iffy one, just be sure that you don’t use ANYTHING that has ANYTHING to do with his family. As a convention, he said that he doesn’t mind people using his face to rp with, as long as they do not push it on his family. I haven’t looked at the page to see if there are any pics up of him with any of his family, but if family pics were used then there is a problem.

5. I also noticed that their masterlist is looking like the cast list for 50 Shades of White. There are a total of 5 people that aren’t white on the masterlist from what I can tell, and these 5 people all have very light skin. Masterlists like this make me feel like the roleplay is not at all welcoming to poc and may include subtle racist undertones. Because clearly the entire ooc masterlist prefers to write white. This is the kind of masterlist that makes me think that all of the poc are probably single because everyone’s writing their white faves and wants to ship with their other white faves. I’m not saying that is definitely what is happening, but that is what it looks like, from the eyes of someone who is not white. And this is based on many experiences. I also don’t see any transgender or nonbinary characters and the lack of diversity in general makes me sad.

That’s the short and skinny of it, I’ll drop some receipts and go into more detail down below:

Here’s a full list of what I found in just a few minutes on their main:

Cole Sprouse is their mascot and is on their masterlist. The same Cole Sprouse that has sexual abuse allegations, emotional abuse allegations, and a shit ton of privileged racism spouting out of his mouth. Alex Pettyfer is on their banned list for abuse allegations. Lea Michelle is on their banned list for being racist. But Cole is not only on the masterlist, he’s also the mascot for the main? Receipts and fuller detail on him down below, because it’d take too long to get into here and you’d never get to the rest of the problems.

Dylan Sprouse is on the masterlist. He posted a pic of a girl he dated on Instagram and the caption was “My African Queen”. The girl’s skin tone was very tan, but many would have believe she was a black woman, but here’s the thing she isn’t black and when people called Dylan out of for having his girlfriend pretend another ethnicity, he made fun of them.

FIRST POST, with a blackfishing/blackfaced, edited photo:

The second post after he got called out:

KJ Apa is on their masterlist. He is fatphobic and sexist. There’s this post where he endorses bullying people if they’re fat because it’s “the only way to stop those useless bags of shit dying a fat, early death.” He’s also posted about beer being better than women.

Vanessa Hudgens is on their masterlist. COVID is a trigger, but the girl that said, “It's a virus, I get it. Like, I respect it. But at the same time, like, even if everybody gets it, like, yeah, people are gonna die, which is terrible but, like, inevitable?" because she was mad she didn’t get to go to Coachella one time is okay to be there?

Jack Falahee is a Berry twin, twin to Rachel, but he’s not Jewish? Why are we erasing ethnicity? The only excuse to go against the Jewish ethnicity here would be by making the character half black, as per the season one storyline for Rachel’s birth, but the problem with that is that his mother would still be Jewish. So he’d still have to be half Jewish.

Kristen Stewart is on the masterlist, but she’s asked not to be used in roleplays because it makes her uncomfortable.

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