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seldomscilence16 · 1 year ago

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Whumptober day 9:

"Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days."

Polaroid | mistaken identity | "you're a liar."

Fandom: Sanders Sides (AU)

Prompts used: all

Oof this one took some creativity I didn't have lol, so pardon the names used. But welcome to Sanders sides superhero au, or rather, the aftermath of one.

…

Virgil's early years were an amalgamation of too many things. He gets anxious just thinking about it, a past only a select few even knew about. Virgil's eyes glance over to his mantle- and what a world it is for him to have a fireplace mantle- where a picture frame sits face down. Some days he can look upon it with nostalgia and a small smile, other days he can't see the faces, only the things they'd had to do.

He'd spent the last several years doing everything he hadn't been able to do then. Online classes galore, a normal job, a house, things so mundane and yet so freeing. He has a service cat- Ide is the only service cat he's ever heard of but she's special in more than one way so he supposes that makes sense- that helps him out in the day to day, to keep him from getting too overwhelmed.

He's been doing good recently too. He can answer Patton's weekly phone calls on the second ring with minimal heart palpitations, and he'd even been considering going to their next meet up.

He could already tell he'd never let himself live this down if he made it out.

He'd decided to go out for coffee, there was a deal going on and it was spooky season and Virgil had woken up feeling okay. He'd get his coffee, take Patton's call when it came, and get some work done, it would be a good day. He should really know better than to jinx himself like that.

He hadn't even made it to the coffee shop, had felt a shiver up his spine, couldn't even react before his head exploded with pain and his world dimmed. He thinks he sees Ide run off, hopes she's okay, before he can think of nothing at all.

When Virgil was a kid- and that's what they were, they were kids- he and five other of the neighborhood children had been out late one night. Virgil hadn't really chosen to come, had been kicked out and dragged along by Remus, ever excited to explore in the dark. It had happened like a movie really, some bright light, a crash, the whole dramatic speech from some being from another planet- an Alien named Thomas of all things, though maybe that's just what it sounded like to their ears.

Exposure to the crash had of course granted them powers. Powers they were expected to use to defend Earth again the foes that had followed Thomas. Virgil thinks the cosmic forces at play made the wrong choice, at least with him, but definitely for choosing kids. Still, for whatever reason, seeing the others put themselves in danger had stirred him the wrong way. He'd ended up fighting alongside them, it was rough but they'd somehow managed to survive.

So why, after several years of no longer being some stinken 'super hero' and living a semi-normal life, is he being kidnapped!?

"I see you're awake. Took you long enough, Sandine."

Ah… well frack. How the hell did this guy mix up Virgil with Thomas, Virgil is a complete mess.

"Yes, I know who you are. You and your team may have disappeared, but the impact you made stayed, I haven't forgotten what you've done. And now, finally, I can make you pay!"

Virgil almost wants to laugh, how ironic, the guy who fought only because he wanted to protect the others, is captured in place of one of them. What a world Virgil lives in.

"I'm sure you're wondering how I figured it out."

Damn, this dude had no idea how to do the villain thing, maybe Virgil is on a hidden camera show… one where head trauma is okay… so just an ameteur, Virgil could work with that, maybe.

The guy begins to pace in front of the tank he'd put Virgil in- one he can only assume has adtonium in it to keep his powers at bay- gearing up for a long speech. Virgil squirms in his binding, robe burn be damned, as he glares in the general direction of his kidnapper,

"You see, you all were not nearly as secretive as you thought! My uncle, a mere henchmen, was able to capture this photo!" He produces an actual polaroid from his person, wrinkled from years of handling, and though Virgil can't see it super clear through the tank, the costumes on the three figures are familiar, "You were stupid enough to remove your masks, and now, I have you. The great Sandine, captured at last, with no little team to save you. Your life will end, your powers will be mine, and those who oppose me will fall one by one!" His laugh is too pitchy, his speech boring, but Virgil is a little impressed. To find, capture, and contain one of them is a feat, and to supposedly have the technology to steal a power, well it's intriguing at least.

But he wont be getting the powers he thinks, and this guy will not be able to handle them in the slightest. But to do that, this guy needed to be convinced that Virgil was Thomas, so he should probably say something quippy and heroic…

"You're laugh sucks." Well… that was something at least.

"I'm telling you Logan, he hasn't missed a call in ages!" Patton paces in the kitchen, piles upon piles of cookies filling the counters, phone pressed between shoulder and ear.

"Patton, if you worry any more I will have to assume you are Virgil."

"This is not a joking matter Logan, but good job." He turns to place another tray down to cool when he sees something at his window, "uh… Logan, remind me, am I allergic to all cats or are alien ones an exception?" He squints, trying to see familiar markings.

"You know we have only met one alien animal, Patton so the results are inconclusive. However Ide was an exception, yes, why do you ask?"

"Because Ide is at my window, without Virgil, and something is definitely wrong!" He rushes to said window, throwing it open as Ide limps his way through, nerves twist his gut up like only a friend in danger can as the cat meows loudly. "Logan. Call the others." There's no room for argument in Patton's voice as he hangs up, something happened to Virgil.

"Just a few more adjustments and we'll test this baby out!"

"Wow, how embarrassing for you."

"Stop that! Gah, how the press thought you were an angel with that much snark I'll never know!"

"You just bring out the worst in me."

Virgil's wrists ache something terrible, rope having cut into skin at this point and he supposes he should be glad his jacket was taken from him before all this lest it be ruined now. He's eyeing the cliche laser gun above him, then the little drains in the floor and wondering idly if he expects a mess or if they'll be draining into his tank rather than out.

"Soon, I'll know the secrets of the galaxy, and you'll be dust beneath my boots!"

Wow, this guy thought Thomas knew everything? He'd be flattered sure, but he was far from omnipotent. And Virgil questions everything, even the things that don't need to be questioned!

"You want to know stuff? Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days. There's always something more, something lurking, if you knew everything your head would literally explode, and you're not allowed to do that without The Duke here."

"You're a liar, you just want to keep everything to yourself!"

Virgil could correct him, after all Janus was the one with the whole lying schtick. Had to do with his powers and stuff of course, but even before that he was known to lie in stressful situations. His defense as it was, and one that Virgil had taken too long to realize.

"It doesn't matter anyway, it's ready, say goodbye Sandine!"

The lazer lights up as bubbling liquid fills in from below and he hates when he's right, his struggles renew as he finally lets his panic, well panic. The feeling he'd been ignoring, that emptiness that had been dragging him down, is ten times worse now- except… It's fading now. That idiot, did he… turn off the thing keeping his powers at bay?

"You want my powers?" Virgil's wrists finally slide free, smeared with red, purple and black mist swirls around him for the first time in a long time, "Here ya go."

"Wait. That's not-"

The lazer goes off, the liquid makes his feet slip, the tank explodes as his powers fill the room with his scream of agony. Trying desperately to find the threat, unable to flee, searching for what to fight, the man screams in terror, but Virgil barely hears it over his own. The machine ignites in a fiery mess, the lazer dying out, but as Virgil slumps his powers stutter.

The man lifts shaking hands, wild eyes flitting around the room, the gun in his hand goes off and Virgil's powers shrink until they fold into that place within him, pounding against an invisible wall, the emptiness returns tenfold and with no resistance drags him down. His ankles, still tied to the chair, twist uncomfortable as the thing tumbles sideways with him. The bubbling liquid burns but he can't seem to move, a glow has his eyes lowering, and there, embedded in his shoulder, just barely above his heart, is the gray space stone adtonium.

Huh… guess this is how it goes down. Nothing to hear but the mad ramblings of an unstable villain wannabe, skin burning, chest aching, and powers locked away, alone.

At least it wasn't Thomas… or any of the others…

"Virgil! Is he okay!?"

"M'fine."

"What a shitshow, Nightmare."

"Everything will be dreadful soon, Vee. We won't be handling the rest, so do worry."

"Mkay… 'ake a nap now…"

"Virgil don't you dare!"

"Just hang in there buddy!"

"We'll get you home safe stormcloud."

"Please remain still Virgil, this will only hurt for a moment."

"Falsehood." Virgil's eyes close, he yells at the yanking, and the sudden burst of powers freed, and thinks this was a positively dreadful day.

But it could have been worse.

#whumptober 2023 #no.9 #learning everything aint what it seems thats the thing about these days #lyric #polaroid #mistaken identity #“youre a liar.”#sanders sides #fic #torture tw #virgil angst #super hero au #ish #virgils pet spider is a cat names Ide #an alien cat #:)

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an-android-in-a-tutu · 2 years ago

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Okay NOT true the actors who played Uriel and Raphael were doing their own Extremely Cool shit, Anna's shift from being a regular girl to getting her angel memories back is notably pretty great, and a lot of later seasons actors noticeably style their performances after Misha's portrayal of Cas. There are plenty of boring subpar angels on supernatural but there are also a lot of great ones, cmon.

I have to say, I just started casually watching ofmd after basically watching it through you guys. I am already spoiled. I thought there would be no surprises. I am already aware of the best jokes, the foot touch, the plot beats. You can become an expert on any show simply by scrolling past gifs of it for months.

However, NONE of you prepared me for this little guy here:

It is profoundly obvious visually, through dash osmosis and general visible evidence, that this is a little man with a lot wrong with him. but what you cannot grasp from gifs is his voice. His voice is amazing: I did NOT expect it: I cannot describe it: the actor chews on his lines like a menacing guinea pig. It is like hearing Kermit the Frog trying to strangle his own puppeteer. Like someone has trapped a vengeful spirit in a balloon and is allowing it to speak prophecy, but only in short, squeaky bursts. No, I can’t describe it at all. I was expecting the character to be “scrungly” and was aware that many of you wish to place him in a jar and shake him vigorously, but I didn’t know he sounded like something that would cause all greyhounds in hearing distance to instantly go cross-eyed and launch themselves into outer space. He! Is! Scrofulous!!!!

If you watched the show on its first principles you probably wouldn’t have noticed this because you would have accepted it as part of the full sensory experience of the character, but if you have only encountered it as gifs for the best part of a year, the sound of this chap is one HELL of a shock . Definitely adds to the flavor. Enhances the sensory experience. Sign on today.

#also I thought the story about the voice thing was that he got told to run through his first scene again and 'not be so squeaky this time'#Like seriously Misha's cool but it's not like no one else got on board #Uriel especiallly is like the second angel we see and he manages to be equally alien but in a whole new direction #Raphael in his introduction is fucking Amazing #Also like. Virgil? Basically acting like the terminator? That was pretty great #Hael was good #Lots of people did the homework!

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porcelanitaa · 12 days ago

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Thanks @princessfaerygia for the tag! decided to post it here bc it was getting too long. I don't know the girl from Thirteen, but based on the characters I know I can assume you're a sensitive person who deals with contradictory emotions but has a good heart. You're so precious!

My characters: Luka from Alien Stage, Mitsuba from TBHK, Viktor from Arcane and Bibi from I Love Amy.

tags (no pressure): @cuppa-coma , @scary-friend , @smittenseraphim , @sweetheart-sings , @strangerconnection @aloe-emo , @carnage-cathedral , @escarghosted , @angelstrash , @strawbjose , @wiltinglibrary , @sugarcandydoll , @sugardonutzz , @hellhoundsdoth0wl , @local-lover-boy , @xxx-ang3l-w1th-a-sh0tgun-xxx , @sunnyxjarrus , @viniknp , @virgils-muse , @carm3n-carm3n , @anqelicbf , @huellitaa

#† journal #alnst luka #viktor arcane #mitsuba sousuke #tag games #dash game #girlblogging #girl blogger #girlblogger #dollette #manic pixie dream girl #coquette #this is what makes us girls #girlhood

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patrothestupid · 9 months ago

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amlien and virgil AU

#furry #furry art #furry anthro #anthro art #furry dog #furry alien #amlien and virgil #it just so weird to look back at it

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delimeful · 1 year ago

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to know that song (and all its words) (10)

just like virgil, it's time we get to look at the raiders' attack from a few different perspectives :)

warnings: violence, blood and injury, implied minor character death, guilt, fear, lmk if i missed any

CAMERA LOG SF 7

DESIGNATION: LOADING BAY

20:34:27

“You hurt him,” Patton said, and he barely even recognized the sound that came out of him as his own voice.

The crowd of aliens was frightening, the way all aliens were to him, but there were some advantages to being monsters, and one of them was that aliens were scared of him back. They parted before him like leaves scattered by a leafblower, his steps unimpeded as he made his way to where a bundle of familiar feathers and fuzz laid. Unnatural, twitching movements spasmed through them, but they hadn’t gone deathly still– not yet.

Whatever the leader alien was saying was lost to the distant buzzing in Patton’s head. Logan’s response made it through, just barely. His voice had dropped into that icy pitch that meant he was well and truly angry, an ominous tone that made something primal and hunted in the back of Patton’s mind shiver to life.

Be ready, it said. We’ll have to fight soon.

He hated fighting more than anything else in space, even the tests. He hated seeing the fear set in, with bristling spines or flinching spikes or rolling, panicked eyes. He hated the way alien bones and bug shells gave way so easily, like they were made of hollow styrofoam or old eggshell.

Feathers’ arm was broken, snapped with a nasty, jutting-out bit of bone that made him feel sick to even see. Patton remembered the chalky taste of shock when he broke his wrist as a kid, the way the hurt had overwhelmed everything, the cautionary tales about grabbing little creatures or bothering baby birds, because they would die from the shock and the stress sometimes.

Aliens were so much more delicate than the little beings back home.

There’s a sob, somewhere in the back of Patton’s throat. He folded it down carefully, because he was surrounded by danger and because Feathers was still alive, and so he couldn’t just give up or break down, not even with all his fear and dread mixing into a horrible, pulsing mess in his gut.

Feathers had always been spirited, from the first moment the three of them snuck onto the little guy’s ship. Patton repeated this to himself like a mantra as he crouched next to them, feeling his lips wobble a little at the sight of their little head craning slightly to see him.

Their eyes narrowed into little crescents, and they made a small, warbling chirp that seemed to get a little tangled halfway through the sound. Feathers had made a lot of sounds, but none of them had ever sounded like this. The high pitched whistling breaths sounded a lot like almost-whines, like a hurt dog begging for help, but Feathers didn’t even seem to know that they were making them.

The alien leader kept speaking as Patton carefully slotted his hands under Feathers’ small, too-light form. The cadence of the words was songlike and mocking, and Patton could practically feel the way Logan’s ire sharpened to a honed point, aimed directly at them like the tip of a saber. Whatever the stranger had said, it hadn’t helped their case at all.

And that was saying something, considering that they’d already dug the hole pretty deep by hurting Feathers, who they’d all grown attached to despite Logan’s best efforts.

Patton has to blink back the automatic tears when he sees Feathers’ arm up close, trying his absolute hardest to lift them into his arms without jarring the injury. He had to hurry; the last thing they needed was for Patton to be stuck on the wrong side of the room with precious cargo during their plan.

Feathers was still conscious as Patton made his way back over to Logan’s side, the hair on the back of his neck prickling in nervous anticipation all the way. They seemed… out of it, their antenna flicking in strange little circles and their feathers puffing up and smoothing back down as waves of trembling pain seemed to work through their little body.

Patton clutched them a little closer, exchanged a brief look with Logan, and scrunched his eyes closed, knowing that he’d need the advantage once Roman flipped the switch. Next to him, Logan would be doing the same, only keeping the slightest sliver of vision to make sure they weren’t ambushed.

Even knowing it was coming, he still flinched away from the burst of noise when Logan whistled the signal.

The final whistle had barely faded into silence when the orange-pink of the back of his eyelids flicked to an unmistakable pitch black.

For a moment, Patton was back in the labs. He moved to grasp for Roman in the dark, knowing that the only way he could help him through these punishments was to grab on and hold tightly, prove that he wasn’t alone in the dark through whispered words and interlaced fingers.

The only thing his hand found was empty air, and next to him, the silhouette of Logan moved.

Right. He had a different friend to look after this time, and if he didn’t hurry, he’d be leaving Logan to deal with an entire ship’s worth of armed aliens on his own. The moment of disorientation would serve as an effective distraction for a few moments– but only that.

He twisted on his heel, ignoring the sicking crunch of impact from a few feet away to lunge back through the doors they’d come in through, turning and sprinting down the hall for onetwothreefourfivesix long steps and turn again, reach out and there was the little open shelf area built into the wall for storage.

This was where he tucked Feathers, the lowest part of the shelf, pushed to the back corner, his heart breaking a little at the pain they were so obviously in.

He left them there with a whispered promise to return, his heart pumping rapidly as he bolted back to where he could hear shouting and the beginnings of screaming, steeling himself as he picked up the heavy section of pipe Logan had left leaning against the wall outside.

They were in this together. No matter how much he hated it, he hated the idea of not standing between his best friends and death– or worse– more.

With a shuddering inhale, he plunged into the fight.

–

CAMERA LOG SF 9

DESIGNATION: CONNECTOR HALL 3

20:40:56

When the sudden darkness hit, Logan’s eyes had been slightly cracked, and so his vision was still partially impaired.

So, for the first few seconds of the fight, he worked off memory alone.

While the pointless, infuriating conversation he’d had with the raiders’ apparent boss had done their opponents absolutely no favors, Logan had never been one to waste an opportunity. He’d spent the duration of it scanning the room, taking in the aliens closest to him, the ones between him and the boss, and the ones with long-range weaponry held ready.

He went for the ones with paralyzing guns first, because the risk of being hit by a stray shot outweighed the potential of letting them fire off their weapons blindly in a panic, and because it gave him higher odds of hitting targets that weren’t immediately lethal, like hands or arms or even tails.

In his experience, flight was a much stronger impulse than fight for most aliens. Seeing as they had far less adrenaline to numb the pain of an injury and allow them to keep fighting through it, Logan understood why.

He also understood that it made diving into the middle of a herd of opponents much less dangerous. The moment the first few cries of pain and crunches of wrenched limbs rang out, there was a frantic scattering away from the center of the room, like a bowl of marbles dropped on the floor.

Good. The less casualties between him and his goal, the quicker this would be over with.

Even as he twisted around the attempted strike of a heavy, lumbering alien, his thoughts still felt like a looping record, dragged back again and again to those moments before they walked in.

He’d been the one to hold up their sign for wait, paused as though he was assessing the situation even though he knew from the cameras that the Ampen had already been taken hostage.

It had been to satisfy his own curiosity, to justify his own paranoia when it came to their surprisingly resilient impromptu pilot.

The other two hadn’t been in space as long as he had, hadn’t been exposed to the depths that aliens would sink to when it came to humans. He’d taken pains to try and keep it that way, though it sometimes felt as though they were undermining his efforts with how friendly they were, even after everything.

He knew why. Roman and Patton both had far more sociable natures than him, and a willingness to believe the best of others that had been stamped out of him. It was only natural that they would be curious about the first alien they’d met that didn’t hold any sort of power over them.

Logan had attempted to warn them— an attack could stem just as easily from fear and ignorance as it could malice and greed. Feathers, as Roman had so creatively dubbed him, certainly seemed terrified and spiteful enough from the very start.

And yet, even he’d started growing lax in the face of the unexpected kindnesses that the Ampen had granted them. Guidance on the food stocks they had, explanations on the facilities, and a slow but steady easing of tensions the longer both parties went without hurting each other.

They certainly seemed to alarm and bewilder the little alien at every opportunity, that much Logan was more than practiced enough in alien body language to pick up on, but there was understanding there, too.

And it certainly wasn’t greed that motivated Feathers. They’d balked at the Dren canister as though he’d been offering them a severed head on a plate, rather than a rare resource that many aliens were willing to commit atrocities to obtain.

It was the best outcome Logan could have asked for.

It was too good to be true.

So, he’d heard the leader offer Feathers a way out, coaxing them with promises of pest removal, and he’d waited.

Because he wanted proof that he’d been right to keep his distance. Because he’d been so sure that this was it, this was the moment that he was betrayed again, except now it wasn’t only his life at risk, but that of the other two, as well.

Because nobody in space cared what happened to a few humans. Not when ‘human’ was synonymous with ‘monster’.

“I don’t… give starscourge pirates shit,” Feathers had spat, words vehement even as their body refused to do more than dangle limply from their captor’s grasp. “Nobody on this ship… ‘cept me, anyhow.”

For the first time since he’d left Earth’s atmosphere, Logan realized that his worst fears were unfounded.

He’d been stunned. Almost too dumbfounded to think, let alone move.

And somewhere in that unforgivable moment of hesitation, Feathers stalwart refusal to give them up made them expendable.

“Useless,” the leader had hissed, the vitriol dragging Logan’s mind back online just in time to hear a splintering crunch.

The high-pitched shriek of pain only lasted for a handful of seconds before it cut off, and Logan had forced himself to move before his lapse in judgement cost their smallest crewmember any more than it already had.

Only half of his mind was on the conversation, the other half spinning wildly out of control as he watched Patton retrieve Feathers and knew from his tremulous expression alone that it was bad.

‘Bad’ for a human was fatal for an alien, more often than not.

“Logan, eight o'clock!” Patton’s familiar voice snapped him back into the present, and Logan stuck a hand out to smoothly receive the pipe Patton tossed his way.

He forced himself to focus, grounding himself with the sensation of his fingers around the cool metal of the makeshift weapon. Patton was at his side. Feathers had been safely removed from the situation.

There was only one matter he could afford to worry about now, and it was ensuring that he and his companions remained free and safe.

Logan stepped forward and swung, aiming to win.

—

CAMERA LOG SF 3

DESIGNATION: MAINFRAME ROOM

20:49:16

Waiting for the all-clear signal had been one of the most painful things Roman had ever had to do.

Up until now, every battle they’d faced, from their daring escape to boarding Feathers’ ship, had been with all three of them fighting together.

To sit in the dim red glow of the emergency light, holding a sharp twisted bit of scrap metal and his heart in his throat, ears straining for any sign that his only friends in the whole of space were alright— it was torture.

Even so, he sat.

Roman would be less than useless in the darkness that played such an instrumental role in their plan, his body responding to the threat and locking down regardless of what his mind had to say. He would become a liability, and the absolute last thing he wanted was to be used against them.

When the whistle finally came— one long call, and then two short bursts— he wasted no time before flicking the lights back on and sprinting down the halls.

Something tight and terrified in his chest loosened the moment the lighting fixtures flickered back to life, but it didn’t fully release its grip on him until he turned a corner and saw Logan, whole and unharmed.

Only Logan.

“Patton—?” he started the moment Logan turned fully to face him.

“Still in the bay,” Logan replied immediately, and for once Roman was grateful for his utter lack of any sense of drama. “He’s helping some of the more critically wounded with tourniquets and the like. They surrendered after I dispatched their leader and the more stringent bodyguards.”

Looking at the way he was splattered heavily with blood, one hand still white-knuckled around the equally-splattered pipe, Roman could imagine why.

“That’s Padre for you,” he replied, trying to remain upbeat even as he detected something distinctly wrong with Logan’s expression. “Is Feathers with him?”

Logan’s face closed off even more, and it felt like an invisible hand was squeezing all the air out of Roman’s lungs.

“They were injured. The severity is…,” he stopped, looking pained. “I need you to guard the main door so I can retrieve them and assess the damage.”

“Go,” Roman said immediately, reaching out and tugging the pipe from his grasp. “Don’t just give up, Specs. I mean, we don’t just have our resources now, right? There’s an entire ship full of supplies right here, and another connected to it. How often do you want to bet space pirates get injured on the job?”

Logan nodded, jerky at first and then smoothing into something more determined. “Right.”

Without another word, he headed down the hall, and Roman took a few deep breaths. He could keep it together for everyone. It didn’t matter if the composure was fake, so long as he acted it out well enough.

By the time Logan returned, he was put-together enough not to balk at the sight of Feathers cradled in his arms like a corpse.

The first thing Feathers had negotiated for was the right to walk for themself. They hadn’t let anyone else hold them since then, still snapped at fingers if Roman tried to pet them even a little.

There was a faint chirping, interspersed with a few nonsense syllables that might have been trying to be words, and Logan drew to a stop immediately, peering down at his passenger.

“Are you with us?” Logan asked, carefully moving a hand to hover over Feathers in an attempt to keep the bright overhead lights from blinding them.

They flinched a little, and then opened their eyes a little further and slowly moved their gaze to stare at Logan.

“You’re badly injured,” Logan told them bluntly in Common, a frantic edge to his voice. “We need to know what sort of treatment will work for you, what kind of medicine— and what amount, as well— is safe for Ampens. It’s very important, Feathers. Can you tell me?”

Roman couldn’t even find it in himself to tease Logan for giving in and using their nickname, too caught up in scanning Feathers’ tiny face for any signs of comprehension, any hope that they would be able to properly treat their wound.

After a few long seconds of blank staring, Feathers straightened up slightly and pushed their head up to butt against the palm of Logan’s hand, like an affectionate cat seeking attention.

Logan went still, like he was being held at gunpoint, and exchanged a desperate, pained look with Roman.

Feathers made a few tiny peeps, more vulnerable that they’d ever let themself be around them before, and Roman struggled not to be overcome by the feeling of his heart sinking right through the floor.

Hesitant and desolate, Logan smoothed his hand over their feathers as carefully as he could. Feathers crooned quietly and slowly settled back into unconsciousness, tiny muscle spasms still rolling through them every so often.

“Find their medic,” Logan said, and when Roman looked up, he found that his friend had settled into the harsh, sharp-edged version of himself, the one he used to harden himself to what they needed to do if they wanted to survive.

They’d all found a little of that in themselves, over the months spent in captivity. Logan had tried to use it to keep a protective shell between himself and their fluffy, stressed out pilot, but Roman was more than willing to use it on Feathers’ behalf.

“I’ll have Patton bring the first one we find to the medical room,” he agreed with a nod, already turning to head into the bay. “Once we’ve got the other ship locked down, we’ll meet you there. Take good care of them until then?”

Logan’s expression twisted the slightest amount, before firming into something determined. “I will.”

#sanders sides fic #alien au #humans are deathworlders #ts patton #ts roman #ts logan #ts virgil #tktsaaiw #to know that song and all its words #my writing #writing

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writerbits · 9 days ago

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it's 100% an area 51 reference and it wasn't until I wrote those tags that I was like *gasp* 'it works on two levels'

@kallisto-k Pet51 please!

Patton is trying to be friendly but he still flinches back when Anxiety snaps up a chunk of dried meat. Okay maybe being friendly can be for tomorrow? Patton scoots back to the edge of the seat. And then scoots off it completely. Four paws hit the ground as he trots back into the kitchen. Oh being friendly would be so much easier with treats. Surely Anxiety can’t make eating fruit scary.

Wip Wednesday | pet51

#I have so many wips that are just various misspelling of the word aliens that I decided to save it as anything else #It was going to just be pet but I went 'how will I remember this is about aliens?' And added 51 on there #5 Times Remus's New Pet Was Scary Smart Plus 1 Time Virgil...#Okay it has Most of a title #pet51

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lefaystrent · 4 months ago

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Distractions

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: all-star cast of platonicness

Summary: The light sides are in a sad state of affairs. The dark sides are pretty good at offering distractions.

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Logan sits on the living room couch, head in his hands, slumped in defeat. Despair. Failure.

He's slightly jostled by someone else sitting on the couch.

"Aliens aren't real," comes Virgil's voice, definitive and assumedly directed at Logan.

Logan lifts his head enough to check. His glasses have made a mighty impression into his forehead but he doesn't move to adjust them. Virgil is very nearly glaring at him.

"Virgil, you yourself have created power point demonstrations centered around the validity of aliens. Since when has your opinion changed?"

"Since now. Fight me, nerd."

Logan leans back a little to properly look at Virgil. He could be mistaken for fuming, the way his jaw is set and the fire burning in his eyes. But no, he is merely adamant to rile Logan up. To what end though?

"Are you...challenging me to a debate?"

Virgil gives a sharp-toothed, satisfied grin. He is willing to play devil's advocate for a good cause.

***

"Hey, wanna dance?"

Roman windmills his arm in the direction of the sultry voice that whispered in his ear. The faint smell of garlic wifts in his nostrils, followed by a gleeful chuckle.

"Remus!! Get out of my room!"

Remus rolls back on his heels. He folds his arms behind his back and looks into the air, a thoughtful hum on his lips.

"Hmmm, how about no?"

"Leave! Out you pest!"

"Make me!"

"You would force the hand of your own brother?" Roman says far too seriously, and Remus gives him an unimpressed stare. "...yeah, you're right, this is very on brand for you. I don't know why I'm acting surprised."

Remus shrugs and throws his hands up in the air. "Alright, if you're done bothering me–"

"You're the one who came in my room!"

"I've got better things to do than listen to you whine, Prince Poopy Pants."

Remus goes to stride out the door. Roman watches him, arms crosses and fingers tapping impatiently on his elbow, haughty expression that says he's one push away from snapping.

Remus pauses at the door.

Roman doesn't have time to anticipate.

Remus snatches up one of Roman's Pop figures off his bookshelf and flees the scene. Roman exits stage right in pursuit, screaming.

***

"You can't stay in bed all day."

"Watch me," Patton says, a pout in his voice. He's buried under blankets with only his hair sticking out at the top.

Janus clicks his tongue and scratches at Patton's scalp. It's less effective with gloves on, but Patton allows the contact.

"Or do, I certainly won't judge you," Janus says flippantly.

Patton whines into the mattress, "That implies that someone is judging me."

"I didn't say that. Did I say that?"

"Janus!" Exasperrated, Patton tosses down his blankets enough to reveal his rumpled onsie and impressive bedhead. He stops when he sees what sits on the bedside table that wasn't there before.

"You never came down for breakfast this morning," Janus explains. "Not that I care or anything. There were just so many pancakes leftover that it would be a shame for them to go to waste."

Patton eyes the tray and the stack of syrupy pancakes. His lip wobbles a little. "You brought me breakfast in bed?"

"Don't get used to it."

Patton finds the will to smile and tucks into breakfast. It tastes freshly made and sweet.

#i wrote this because i am an american #this is for anyone else looking for distractions in this trying time #sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #hurt/comfort #writing #fanfiction #distractions

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