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starlocked01 · 4 years

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Rivals to Soulmates Speedrun

AO3

Masterpost- Previous- Next

Summary: Logan is confident in his ability to compete academically. He's not prepared for the consequences of ignoring his team. Content Warning: Brief swearing, Kissing, one mild nsfw mention

Day 24 Loceit- When you first meet your soulmate you see a vision of the future. Modified so that the vision happens at their first touch.

"Alright I need everyone to focus. I don't know how we managed to get this far but we did and we are not going home empty handed," Logan looked each of his teammates in the eyes. He really did not know what miracle had gotten them all the way to the championship- no wait, yes he did. It was him. The unfortunate truth of attending a small private school meant that getting on the Academic Challenge team was not so much a matter of skill or knowledge, rather it was asking to be on the team.

Logan was used to pulling more than his fair share of the burden anyway. And at least Roman knew theater stuff and Patton- well, Patton was there for moral support.

"Just remember, all answers go through me," Logan stood straight and smiled confidently.

"Whatever you say, Spock," Roman sighed, more interested in his nails than the team captain's speech, "let's get this nerd royale over with."

"Remember to have fun, kiddos," Patton grinned and clapped his teammates on their backs as they made their entrance on stage.

Logan's first thought was to size up the competition. He wasn't intimidated in the slightest but one must know their enemy.

First was a boy who looked like he'd been dragged out of the alleyway and forced on the team. If his monochromatic outfit and terrible posture matched his enthusiasm he wouldn't pose any immediate threat to Logan.

The second boy looked, in a word, deranged. His large grin and wide eyes were out of place among the serious faces of the other competitors. Logan did have to note that the frilly black and green skirt complimented him well. The boy caught Logan’s eye and winked at him. Eugh.

The third, the team captain, was on a different level entirely from his team. Logan immediately felt utter loathing for that casual smirk. Everything about him just screamed "pretentious asshole who thinks he's smarter than everyone in the room". Logan scoffed at his socially deviant attire, which included a bowler hat and black capelet. Logan adjusted his tie. How ridiculous looking. This boy thought he was a threat to Logan. That misconception would be quickly rectified.

"Welcome to the Academic Challenge District Championship! I'm your host tonight, Thomas Sanders," the man grinned widely at the seven people in the audience, "today's game will be three rounds. Team captains, if you would step forward and shake hands."

Logan stepped forward and met the other captain in the middle of the stage. He offered a yellow-gloved hand to Logan.

"Gloves?"

"You can never be too careful. May the best team win."

Logan grabbed his hand and shook firmly, "we will."

"We'll see," the other captain smirked and turned back to his team with a flourish of his cape.

Logan smirked and pivoted to walk back to Patton and Roman who were already set up at the podium. Both boys looked absolutely bored out of their minds already but Patton at least tried to give Logan a supportive smile.

Logan gave the host a self-confident smirk, "it's game time."

They quickly ran a buzzer check for both teams and started the categories round. The other team seemed pretty evenly matched with Logan and not many points were turned over while toss-ups became a matter of who was faster to the buzzer. By the end of the round Logan had a slight lead and felt very confident.

"Alright! Now it's time for the alphabet round! Today's letter is 'N' and all the answers will start with 'n'. Teams here are your sheets, you have 4 minutes starting… now!" Thomas declared and both teams quickly flipped the list of questions.

"'Musical about the effects of mental illness on a family'," Logan read the first question aloud, "Roman, what's the answer?"

Roman shrugged, "I dunno."

"What do you mean, 'I dunno'?" Logan hissed, "this is your area of expertise!"

"Just because I'm an actor doesn't mean I've seen every show," Roman scoffed, reading down the list of questions to himself, "well I don't know any of this. Try Hamilton."

"It has to start with 'N'!" Logan groaned.

"What about 'Next to Normal'?" Patton didn't look up from his paper where he was drawing.

"Okay fine. What are you doing?"

Patton showed him the doodle, "it's a nectarine for number 17."

Logan looked dumbfounded and scrambled for the last two minutes to answer as many as possible. He glanced over at the other team to find them all talking calmly while the green skirt boy scribbled down the answers.

The buzzer sounded and both teams handed their sheets to Thomas who quickly graded the answers.

"And with that round both teams are tied! It all comes down to the lightning round. To your buzzers everyone!"

Logan only started to mildly panic when the other team got the first three answers. He knew them but couldn't buzz in fast enough.

"Help me out here, guys," he hissed at the others.

Roman rolled his eyes and buzzed in halfway through the next question, "the answer is American Gothic."

"How could you possibly know that?" Logan was furious but turned to give their official answer, "uh Grant Wood."

"No, sorry, Team B?"

The boy in the cape leaned in to the others before responding, "American Gothic."

"Correct!" Thomas replied cheerfully.

"Told you, you're on your own, wonder nerd," Roman sighed and went back to not paying attention.

Logan did his best to keep up but was falling miserably behind.

"Okay last question, where did Descartes claim the human soul resided in the body?" Thomas waited for the buzzer.

"Shit!" Logan dropped his head in shame,then heard the buzzer ring and looked up to see Patton had rang in.

"The pineal gland!" Patton blurted out cheerfully. Logan’s head hit the podium. That was the dumbest-

"Correct! And with that the final score is Team A 350 to Team B 470! Congratulations to Dark Knell High!" Thomas led the scattered applause for the team.

Logan stood, furious, and walked back to the center of the stage where the other captain stood, looking smug as hell and holding the trophy. Logan stuck out his hand for the congratulatory handshake, scowling. The boy made a show of removing his glove before taking Logan’s hand.

Logan’s back against a brick wall with that smug face inches from his. The expression softens and a finger traces his cheek before he leans in to kiss Logan. A cacophony of conflicting emotions screams through his head and settles on "wait, am I gay?" just before he kisses back, anger and humiliation temporarily forgotten in the arms of-

"Janus, my name is Janus. Looks like I'll be seeing you behind the school," Janus winked at a stunned Logan. Logan quickly straightened up and returned to his team.

"What was that about, Specs? You two were standing there for like a minute," Roman looked amused.

"I-" Logan couldn't make himself speak.

"I'm sorry we lost, Lo," Patton smiled apologetically, "they worked really well together as a team. It was going to be hard to beat them."

"No- Patton you did marvelously. I'm sorry for doubting you. And Roman, I'm sorry for not trusting you and not working together as a team. I failed you both," Logan looked down to his feet, ashamed.

"Aw, it's okay, Lo! Maybe we can practice together more before the next tournament and work together next time?" Patton gave him a reassuring smile.

"Assuming I'm even still on the team. Honestly, this sucked. I'm out of here," Roman turned to leave.

"Roman…" Patton chided

"Ugh, fine, yes we'll do better next time," he waved the others off as he left the stage to talk with their advisor.

"He'll come around," Patton grinned, "but seriously were you okay up there?"

"Patton, I think I need to go meet my soulmate. Don't let Dr. Picani leave without me," Logan was distracted by Janus slipping out a back door.

"What?? Okay I'll stall," Patton looked incredibly happy for his friend.

Logan followed Janus out the back door and soon found himself reliving the vision he'd had.

"That was a close game. I wasn't certain we were going to win until your team fell apart," Janus smiled at him, hand still in Logan's hair.

"Well, I didn't expect- you," Logan's mind was whirling.

Janus slipped him a scrap of paper and kissed his cheek before turning back to the door, "call me."

Logan looked at the phone number, "I'm Logan. And I'm sorry you're stuck with me for a soulmate."

"I'm sure we'll make it work. I was quite impressed with your performance today. Until next time, Logan," with that Janus slipped back inside and Logan realized he needed to not miss the bus back home. He sprinted around the school and found Dr. Picani patiently dealing with Patton's antics. He climbed on the bus while their advisor was distracted and collapsed in his seat.

"So where'd you disappear to, L?" Roman asked without looking up from his phone.

"Janus is my soulmate. I saw the vision when we shook hands the second time," Logan confessed.

"Oh my god! Good for you, Lo! Maybe getting laid will make you chill out," Roman smirked, texting his own soulmate.

"Wow, rude. I expected nothing less from you," Logan smirked, fishing his phone out of his backpack and programming the number in his phone before calling Janus.

"Love you, Specs," Roman grinned as Patton and Dr. Picani finally boarded the bus.

"Nice job today team! We didn't win but you gave it your best, which is what counts! Did you all have a good time?" Dr. Picani gave them all a broad grin, genuinely proud despite the loss.

"Logan sure had a good time," Roman snickered.

"I had fun!" Patton beamed.

Logan held the still ringing phone away from his ear, "today was adequate. Thank you, Dr. Picani."

"Great, let's get home," Dr. Picani turned to the bus driver and they started driving back. Logan grinned as Janus finally picked up the phone.

"Hello, Logan."

Tag List: @stoicpanther @ifrickenhatedeverythingaboutthis @idontgiveafuckaboutshit @tsshipmonth2020

#tsshipmonth2020 #Soulmate September 2020 #loceit #logan sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #dr. emile picani #c!thomas sanders #logan centric #soulmate au #high school au #academic challenge #ironically this buzzer beater... was posted late #damn my phone but I figured it out

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awellboiledicicle · 7 years

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The Boy Who Ran pt 2

This is a part 2 [part 1] [par to a short prompt based around “ Imagine that you show up in your favorite character’s universe, only for them to be missing. You ask the other characters about it, but they have never even heard of your favorite character. You soon realize that you’re supposed to play their role in the story/series”. I chose Harry James Potter. [Part 3]

Shoes.

I really should have brought some shoes. Also, should have probably looked where I was going when I decided taking off into the night was a very good idea in terms of switching up my destiny. Perhaps some socks. Hogwarts letters do not come with socks.

They are, however, flammable enough to keep someone warm while you’re reading the other, less crumpled letters you grabbed. This was mostly me ruminating on the fact that, if i was sitting in the middle of.. not London? Maybe London. Possibly London. Memory blanks are a pain. Especially when trying to pull on memories decades back and you hit The Green Light. It was a nauseating feeling I couldn’t cope with in this body, not as Harry, not as a starving-- even more so now-- skinny, bony, and cold kid. I needed to get in contact with Hagrid, or someone. The more I tried to think about it, though, think forward, my head hurt. So, change was allowed, but no gaming the system too much. So, planning. I was in the middle of a city that i had to run and then dead exhaustion walk to, I wasn’t sure how many owls would come to me. How many could without giving me or the wizarding world away-- the last thing I needed was the Durleys sending people out for me via “search for masses of owls”, or people tracking said owls. If they were looking. Maybe they weren’t.

Hogwarts would be looking, though. It’s been looking since I was left on the Dursleys’ doorstep, waiting for me to turn 11. I either had to respond to a letter-- some how-- and tell them i need assistance, or wait it out.

At that moment, I was curled up by a dumpster in an alleyway, sitting on a wooden pallet to stay out of the rainwater. It was colder than I had anticipated-- because of course it was-- and my stomach was growling to the point of pain. The upside of having to wear Dudley’s old clothes was that the baggy extra room let the heat I did generate build up, but the downside was that they got damp faster. I tried to catch some of the owls that came that day, since they... appearantly took not having a quill and parchment to respond as denial? They flew off. I had no mice or anything to offer and that kinda pissed me off. Not really helping the “Contact Hogwarts” mission I had set for myself. Keeping that in mind, I had to find food. You can’t wait for your birthday on faith alone.

After walking a considerable distance, and being reasonably sure I had picked up something from walking in the city barefoot, I was able to get food. I had tried asking around at places for stale bread at first-- that got me ran off with not unsurprising vigor. Eventually a synagogue, and then a mosque farther off gave me a small pack of food and a pad of paper-- they offered it for free, but I insisted on doing some cleaning inside for them. I think they let me if only because it had started to pour outside and was getting dark. The Rabbi of the synagogue let me sleep on a couch in the entryway, since everything else locked. Well, the reasoning was more I told him that I had no home and needed a soft place in the rain, and he said sleep there-- but before this whole thing, I know the security was part of the placement. It was soft and warm and good. Left over challa never tasted so good at 3am.

Between cleaning at the mosque, the synagogue, and trying to not be too noticeable at a local park, the days toward my 11th birthday crawled. I spent many nights under benches in a park, wrapped in a tarp and hoping devoutly that no one would notice me. The Rabbi would still allow me in, but I’d cut it down to just the worst nights, really-- when someone had reported seeing me and I felt skittish, or someone had been unsettling. Rabbi had been kind enough to not say anything to anyone, after I told him the truth. Well, enough of the truth. That my parents had died and my extended family were supposed to care for me, but beat me and starved me and hated me. So I ran away from them. I didn’t tell him names, though. In case he called them and they came looking. It was unlikely, but it was a cautionary measure.

If the Dursleys’ had people looking for me, I didn’t see them-- likely because I have a general avoidance of authority figures. They may well have just washed their hands of the whole business, I reflected, as I tried to compose a proper reply/Letter of Request of Aid to Hogwarts that sounded like an eleven year old boy wrote it. They prefer to be viewed as perfectly “normal” after all, so my disappearance would likely warrant a celebration. Dudley probably got many more gifts he proceeded to harm others with and then break. Petunia was probably orgasmic over the fact she once again had more to gossip about than to have gossiped over. Vernon was likely still a purple lump of screaming, abusive, overpoweringly disgusting, vile, worms in a tie.

I was in the middle of doodling a rather impressive image of #4 Privet Drive on fire when I became vaguely aware that, approaching up a street toward the park behind me, were the sounds a heavy motorcycle makes when you’ve ridden it over things it really should not be ridden over one too many times. Like gravel, rocky terrain if it’s a smooth riding bike, or perhaps someone enchanted a thing one ought not have to ride in the air. And was riding it down a muggle street at dusk, toward a vaguely dirty, scrawny boy with a knapsack sitting at the edge of a park. And came to a stop by said bench, the gigantic rider swinging off and grinning.

This was was the point where I had to process in full the size of Hagrid and the motorcycle. Nothing before The Green did him justice-- hands the size of trashcan lids nothing, he could have palmed my torso. Then again, my torso was rather thin, so that might be saying more about me than him. He loomed over me as i turned to stare opened mouth, but not in a threatening way-- it was more that’s just how Hagrid was. He was big and tall and wide. His beard was worth about 5 heads of hair and every inch of my self control went into not poking it, because it looked bushy and bristly, like the hair on a favorite doll or like my own. “There you are Harry! Been lookin’ for you all over!” He boomed warmly, again I feel not intentionally so much as that was just his voice. The warmth was nice though, and I was struck with how genuine the tone seemed. It took everything in my body to quench the immediate feeling that this man was trying to con me before he’d said anything of the sort. Warmth meant danger, it meant a trick. I had to remember through The Green that Rubeus Hagrid was a good man and I shouldn’t bolt. I suppose my look of confusion skipped him, or he was taking it in stride, because he continued as if I was quiet aware of who he was. “Got yer dad’s wanderin’ streak in ya, runnin’ all over the countryside, not answerin’ your letters! Got yer mum’s eyes though, must have ‘er smarts in there, findin’ you writin’ away! Lookit ya, grown so much since the last time I saw you! Then again, you was just a lil baby!” I had processed a similar scene before, mentally, and prepared to try to act through it. But one cannot look at a very large man being soft and not be thrown. At least I couldn’t. “Uh.. who are you?” I am the pinnacle of eloquence. He looked a bit surprised and chuckled, sticking his hand out for a shake and I finally understood the ‘shook his whole arm’ line. He looked concerned when I bodily tipped over and patted my back. “Easy there, Harry. Name’s Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Grounds and Keys of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry! Call me Hagrid. Oh, that reminds me.” He then presented me with the slightly squashed cake. I think he was surprised when i proceeded to open it, plop back down on the bench and start eating it with my hands. I am not a proud person. Harry Potter is not a proud person. “Err.. Was going to say I sat on it but it’s still good, but ya seem to like it well enough!” “I haven’t eaten in a day an’ a half.” I said through a mouthful of cake, shoveling another handful in, and swallowing painfully. This was, sadly, only about ten percent to try fast-tracking getting to Diagon Alley and an inn. The other 90% was because I was telling the truth and was going to cry. The cake was overly moist, like it had been soaked in something, though it wasn’t bad. I was definitely going to have to wash in a water-fountain later. But dear lord did it hit the spot. “This is the best birthday ever.” Hagrid’s face darkened and his body language shifted drastically from ‘excited’ to ‘borderline angry’ and I froze. “What’d you say?” I swallowed and hurriedly closed the box, my heart starting to race. Oh no, oh no. Hello trauma response. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong? It’s good cake, was I not supposed to eat the cake? I’m sorry for eating the cake.” “No, no-- Merlin’s beard-- It’s your cake Harry.” His voice was quieter now. He seemed to be processing something. With a look around, he put his hands in his pockets. “Harry, why’re you out here, hungry, an’ not in a house?” I blinked and looked around, before raising an eyebrow. “I ran away? Because it was better out here?” Hagrid was quiet for a while more. “Have ya got yer letter, have ya read it? Do ya know what yer parents were, what ya are?” He’d come around the front of the bench and knelt down to be on eye level with me now, and looked very concerned. Bless Hagrid. Bless every single hair on his head, including his eyebrows and eyelashes. And curse that I have to play dumb. “What I-- homeless? Some kinda freak?” “Freak? Who told you that?” He got angry for a bit and calmed himself when he saw panic flash over my face. “The.. Dursleys? That’s why I ran away. They kept locking me in a closet and telling me to stop acting weird and hitting me when weird things happened.” He seemed to be boiling up around the edges, but letting me continue so he could rage later. “They always said my parents died in a car crash and I was weird like them, but i didn’t die. And that it was my fault. So I ran once i got the letter, just.. just in case there were people like me..”

Lying, something I was much better at than normal, but it was also true. Tell a kid they’re a mistake enough and that their parents were too, and don’t let them know more, and they draw conclusions. The conclusions being drawn in front of me right then, though, were likely that Hagrid was going to turn all the Dursleys’ into pigs or something. Or tell this all to Dumbledor and they’d all turn into bugs in a small terrarium. Perhaps that was my own wishful thinking. Definitely my own wishful thinking because about the time I finished that musing, Hagrid exploded into a full on explanation of everything-- I pressed for info here and there on Voldemort, a name i didn’t really fear to think, when prompted-- from my parents to Hogwarts. Even how Mcgonagall had pressed him to come looking for me early, which was good ‘if you been livin’ like this Harry’.

I tried very hard not to fist pump over my to-cat-commentary working. It would have thrown off the whole vibe.

Hagrid did write off a quick letter to.. someone I imagine, and tell me to hop onto the motorcycle. Something about not letting this stand and taking me somewhere to get cleaned up and showing me Diagon Alley so i had someplace nice to sleep for a bit before dealing with business.

“Alright, but.. If I go to this Hogwarts place.. I don’t have any money.” “Your parents-- they left you some. It’s a job for the mornin’ Harry.” “Oh..” I climbed onto the back of the motorcycle with him. “But I don’t have to go back to the Dursleys’ right?” “Not after I have a word with Dumbledor you bloody well won’t.”

It was good I was sitting behind him. Partially because I had a sly grin from the planning here, and then from the look of abject terror because I had forgotten the motorcycle flies. By all laws of aerodynamics, a motorcycle should not be able to maintain flight. But this one does anyway, because it’s magic and it doesn’t care what Muggle math has to say.

Hagrid had to peel a very suddenly pale Boy Who Lived off his jacket when we landed. I managed to not puke or wet myself on the way through the Leaky Cauldron, so success? Success. I vaguely remembered events that lead to me scrubbing cake off my face and arms, and then sleeping. They didn’t involve Quirrell, so either we were early, I blew the line of people off, or Hagrid did me a solid and ushered me away from people before handshakes happened. I recalled the person running the counter getting very excited, then being hushed, and giving us a key. Hagrid took the couch and it look like it broke, sagging to the floor, and I felt some slightly aware part of me twinge with anxiety, but I was too tired and high on adrenaline to care. Besides, magic can fix nearly any object. Whatever.

The feeling of being in the clear was gone in about 9 hours. Not exactly 9, but for once I was experiencing the best sleep I had ever gotten and I was taking it for all it was worth.

Then the migraine came. Oh, Harry dear you poor, poor bastard. Poor bastard, poor me. Like dying, but slow and only in the spot around my scar. So, mostly my whole head region. I wanted to screw my eyelids closed tighter, but I knew that would make it worse, that this wasn’t the sort of migraine you get from a bad nerve or a pulled muscle. The cold burning was seeping now, down through my nostrils and through to the back of my throat, to the roof of my mouth. That wasn’t the main jabbing “FYI, Snakefuck McDick is nearby” feeling, but there were after effects. The jab itself was radiating over my eye and opening them to look around made everything fuzzy-- like someone was blasting white noise and shining lights at me. While also stabbing me in the head. No, I was not being dramatic, but holy hell did it feel like the migraines before The Green, but worse. Like a whole part of me stopped being me and was... ah, right. Right. Of course. Thinking ahead in time isn’t something I could do, but I’m stubborn and I knew one thing I damn sure could do. There would be no reclaiming this piece of himself, there would be no dragging it out of me. I may have had to lay in bed for twenty minutes, sweating like a fever had taken me for all I had, and focusing on the pain until I wanted to vomit-- but finding the separation, exactly, in my mind was going to be key later.

I am the boy who lived, the boy who ran, the boy who thinks, the boy who plans. And I would be damned if i’m the boy who is caught unaware.

So when I eventually got up, cleaned up and joined Hagrid downstairs in the dinning room-- complete with him speaking to several people, including a man wearing a peculiar purple turban-- I felt I was prepared.

I was, but oh, boy, never have I felt the urge to slap the back of someone’s head more in my entire life.

#The Boy Who Ran #hp #fanfic #Harry Potter

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