#the mistake was including a real knife in the equation at any point

[logansanderslove]

Logan 3.0  (8/?)

CO-AUTHOR: @demented-dukey

Summary: Remus is an incorrigible flirt, and Logan can only bear the innuendo for so long until something has to give. Passions erupt, but there are more lasting repercussions than either could have predicted, including a significant transformation to Logan himself! How will these new changes affect the delicate balance of Thomas’s mental state? When a new dark side threatens the lives of several of the other sides, will Logan and Remus’s love be strong enough to save everyone, including Thomas?

Ships: INTRULOGICAL

Sanders Sides: Logan, Remus, Thomas, Roman, Virgil, Patton, Deceit

Fic type: Drama, Romantic, Action, Flirty

Trigger Warnings: no character deaths, but a lot of very close calls. Consensual knife play and bloodplay, and lots of bloody fighting and monster attacks. If you’re sensitive to unsympathetic characters, some parts flirt pretty close to that, but there’s also a lot of extenuating circumstances to explain the situation, and there’s a happy ending once you get through the angst and misunderstandings. Self-harm and references to such, and suicidal tendencies.

MASTERLIST

Chapter 8: The Plan

Logan stood still as he dropped his hand to his side, his shoulders shaking. Everyone was silent as they heard the quiet sobs coming from him, and Patton slowly walked forward.

"Lo?" He said quietly, placing his hand on his shoulder, but Logan spun around instantly, shoving Patton's hand away.

"Don't touch me!" He yelled, glaring at the others, who stepped back with fear upon seeing the red specks in his eyes that were slowly spreading to cover the blue. Patton stared at his best friend with sorrow. Logan clenched his fists. "Don't you get it?! I just lost everything!! Remus meant everything to me, and because of my own mistake, I fucked everything up and now he's gone!! GONE." His breath was hard, blinking back tears. Looking up as wiped his nose quickly, he took a deep breath. "You'll never know what that feels like."

Virgil shook his head. "Logan, we understand how painful this is-"

"No, you don't." Logan stopped him, scoffing. "You don't really understand. You just say that to make me feel better. People always say that they 'understand'. But are you in my shoes? NO. Did you just lose the man who you treasured more than anything? No-"

"YES, Logan."

The others turned to stare at Roman, surprised at the Prince's weakened face, the tears running down his cheeks. Logan cocked his head. 

"What?"

Roman looked at him with pain. "Logan, he's my brother! I care about him, too!! Hell, I'd even go so far as to say I love him! He's my family, Logan!! I'm going through just as much pain as you are! So when I say that I understand, for the love of Shakespeare I mean it!!" He shouted, his voice cracking as he held back a sob.

Logan was quiet for a moment, then his eyes that were almost fully red faded to his natural blue as he took a long breath, then he nodded. "Well, then. Let's do something about it."

Thomas stared at Logan. "What do you mean? We can't go after him! You heard Roman, no one knows the Subconscious better than Remus-"

"But Roman knows it almost as well, and I can cover a lot of ground. Roman and I will go out and look for him. If you need us, call us right back and we'll be here. But I...I have to find him." He finally let the tears roll down his cheeks that he had been trying to hold in. "I can't bear to lose him..."

“At least-,” Virgil said, hesitantly, “-wait until morning? You need to rest-” he held up a hand, stopping Logan’s protest, “-and even if you refuse, think of Thomas. He just had a mental breakdown, and he needs to recover before you start putting him through more mental strain.”

Thomas hugged himself dejectedly, “I’m sorry, Logan. I really want to find Remus too, I just-”

“No,” Logan sighed, “You’re right. Self-care is important, and we’ve both been through a lot today.” He looked at Roman, “Do you… do you think Remus will be okay that long?”

“Yeah,” admitted Roman. “He once spent a week in there for fun, I think he’ll be fine overnight. And we could use the time to create a plan of attack.”

“Maybe he’ll come back on his own?” said Patton. “Once he has a chance to cool down?”

“Maybe, padre.” Roman shrugged, but his tone didn’t sound hopeful. “Re can be pretty stubborn.”

“He’s met his match,” Logan said, jaw set in determination.

Thomas yawned and clapped a hand over his mouth in embarrassment. “Oh my goodness, I’m sorry guys!”

“And with that,” Virgil said, “It’s time for Thomas to wake up so he can get some real sleep.” He wrapped an arm around Thomas’s shoulders and they both sank out.

“I’ll come with!” Patton said, voice fading away as he sunk out with them, “I can tuck you in, or make you some hot cocoa…”

Roman glanced around the dark side's common room, “Maybe we should take this back to my room? I think I might still have some maps I made when we were kids. They might be outdated though...”

“Every little bit helps.” Logan said, “Lead the way.”

~

Back in his own room, Roman sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure where to begin, Lo.”

“We start at the beginning,” Logan said, manifesting a pen and a stack of flashcards to jot down notes. “What kind of threats can we expect to find in the subconscious?” 

Roman groaned, falling back against the wall with a hard breath. "God, where do I begin?" He muttered. "Well, you have the obvious Dragon Witches that I let loose in there, you have the Nightmare Fuel-"

Logan held up his hand. "Wait, wait. 'Nightmare Fuel'? What's that?"

Roman sighed. "Well, it's exactly what it sounds like. Anything that would cause Thomas to have a nightmare. After a while it built itself up into its own creature, and trust me, you do not want to tussle with that thing. Remus and I took it on when we were kids, and boy, was it a mistake. I can only imagine what it’s like now. So let's try to steer clear of that."

Logan nodded, quickly scribbling down notes. Roman frowned. "Hmm...well, there are the shadow demons.”

Logan's head snapped up. "Shadow Demons?! What the hell? Why are those in the Subconscious?" He exclaimed, but Roman only shrugged. 

"Thomas is scared of them, that's why he keeps his closet door shut at night. He also keeps it shut in case-"

"In case the Demogorgon gets him, yes, I am aware. Please tell me that there is no Demogorgon in the Subconscious so we don't have to deal with any more Stranger Things than we need to." Logan muttered. 

Roman smirked. "You made a joke. That's adorable. But anyway, no Demogorgon." He bit his lip. "There are the Creepers, though."

Logan was writing on his notecard but stopped, raising an eyebrow. "'Creepers'? What are they?"

Roman scrunched up his face. "Nothing good. They're a kind of vine monster, and if they get ahold of you, they drag you off and tear you apart. Remus saved me from them on more than one account, and I did the same for him. They are nasty. They prey on the other creatures, Logan. Even the Dragons. They're that dangerous."

Pursing his lips, Logan relaxed back against Roman's bed. "Wonderful. It looks like we have our hands full, then." Leaning forward, Logan met Roman's eyes. "So. Where's the best place to start?"

Roman opened a closet, pulled out a large pirate chest, and began rummaging inside it. With a cry of triumph, he pulled out several scrolls, unrolling the parchment to show childishly-drawn maps. “Don’t judge. I was eleven.” Roman muttered.

“I wasn’t going to say a word,” Logan assured him.

Spreading out the maps, Roman pointed to various landmarks, “Assuming the layout hasn’t drastically changed, here’s where Remus’s room enters the subconscious, and here-” he pointed to another section of the map, “-is where Remus used to prefer to hide when we played. We should search together in case we run into trouble - I suggest we start between those two points and spread outward. We can divide the map up into a grid and mark off each section as we go.”

There were hundreds of X’s drawn over the map, clumping in different areas. “Known monster nests?” Logan guessed.

“Yup.” Roman said, popping the ‘p’. “Out of date, like the rest of the map, but I’m sure the population has only grown as time passed.”

Logan pointed out other symbols on the map, “And these?”

“Mystery spots.” Roman explained, “Places where time speeds up or slows down, or where portals can spit you out in other random spots of the subconscious.”

“Where the laws of physics go out the window,” Logan rubbed his forehead unhappily.

“Mmhmm,” Roman said, looking over the maps. “Y’know… it might’ve been a blessing in disguise that Remus almost killed you.”

Logan blinked. “Why do you say that?”

“Because, nerdbreath, you are scarily uninformed about what goes on down there. Flying around alone painted a big target on your back, and if any other creature had attacked you instead of Remus, you probably wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale. The rest of us wouldn’t have known anything was wrong until Thomas had his mental breakdown, and by then it would’ve been too late.”

Logan dropped his head into his hands, groaning. "Now that you put it in perspective, it seems that Logic has lost all logic." He muttered, then he let out a loud huff and sat back. "Okay. So. What kind of weapons do we have in case of a fight?" He asked, and Roman raised his eyebrow.

"I never really pictured you as one to use a weapon, Lo. You always struck me as one of those ‘the pen is mightier than the sword’ kinda guys." He said, but Logan shook his head. 

"Trust me, I'm good with a knife. And if you can recall, I have quite the punch." He smirked. "If you also factor my Dragon morph into the equation, I'd say I have quite a lot to offer."

Something sparked in Roman's eyes, "So, what I hear you saying is.." he said, barely controlling his glee, "You really can shoot fire like Toothless?"

Logan shrugged with a smirk. "I haven't directly tried it, but I'm well aware that I can. I can feel it when I morph." His smile dampened a bit. "But you didn't answer my question, Roman. What other weapons do we have? You were right. When I went flying around down there carelessly, I might as well have been wearing a neon sign. I can't change into a Night Fury unless our lives depend on it. I won't risk our safety. So it's going to be hand-to-hand combat. What do you have for me?"

Forcing himself not to bounce in excitement, Roman rushed to another closet and threw the door open. “Sorry, sorry, you’re right, not the time.” He grabbed a large rack and began hauling it into the main room - the rack kept coming and coming, appearing to be much larger than should have been able to fit inside the closet. “For your consideration, may I present my personal armory,” Roman said with a flourish. Across the shelves and hooks of the rack hung various pieces of body armor and weapons. There was a large selection of swords and shields (some of them looking well-worn and battle-damaged), along with a wide variety of daggers and axes. There were spears and throwing knives, along with crossbows and bulging leather bags. 

“What’s in those?” Logan asked, pointing at them.

Roman grinned, opening one of the bags and carefully pulling out a handful of dangerous-looking metal spikes. “Caltrops,” Roman preened. “Remus’s idea; he liked playing jacks with them.” He poured the twisted nails back into the bag and closed it, hanging it back on the rack. “Anything else you want, I can probably create it before we go, but we should pack whatever we need. The subconscious tends to drain our powers, and if we spend too long in there I won’t be able to manifest anything anymore.”

Logan nodded. "Alright then. We should pack our things tonight so we can leave early in the morning. I'll be well set with a sword and a dagger, Roman. Nothing else. I feel it will weigh me down. Besides, I'm quick. Fighting with a shield slows you down some. Is that alright with you?"

“Sounds like a plan,” Roman said, letting Logan select the weapons that caught his eye. Pulling his favorite shield off the rack (it was shaped like his logo and had many dents and scratches from battles long past), he set it against one wall, alongside his faithful katana. He added a bag of caltrops for himself, along with a spare dagger for emergencies.

Logan met Roman's eyes. "I'll be right back." He sunk out, Roman watching him go. Moments later he popped back up, and Roman raised his eyebrow at his changed outfit.

His black shirt and tie had been replaced with a different black shirt, one that seemed to be more casual while also being practical for what they were about to do. His jeans were the same black, but his black Vans had turned to a pair of short black rugged boots. Over it all, Logan wore a long black coat, the collar high and the buttons undone. 

Roman stared at him with wide eyes, blinking a few times as Logan pulled off his coat and folded it over his arm, now showing that the shirt was ripped in some places, almost like Virgil's purple shirt he always wore, but it also had a few interesting straps on it, where it almost seemed like something could be attached, but possibly also just for design.

Logan lifted his eyebrow. "Are you okay, Roman? You seem a bit frozen." He asked casually, and finally Roman found the words to speak.

"Holy shit, I can totally see why my brother likes you..." He muttered, eyeing Logan up and down.

Logan's eyebrow cocked. "What?"

Roman's eyes went wide, his face flushing. "WHAT? Nothing! You just...you look so different-"

Logan stared at Roman with a scrunched up expression. "I heard what you said, Roman, and while I am flattered, there are more pressing matters."

Roman let out a hard breath. "HEY, it's not my fault that you're super sexy now that you're all bad boy and stuff!!" He said, immediately clamping his hand over his mouth as Logan stared at him with wide eyes, then a smirk grew on the Neutral's face. 

"Again, thank you for the flattery, but honestly, only Remus is allowed to have this," he gestured to himself with an eyebrow flick. 

Roman chuckled. "Boy, have you changed. No more stick up your butt, I see, and now you're making jokes, you're way sassier, and you're super cool and badass! I like this new you, Lo! It fits you." Roman said, then he snapped his fingers with a realization. Walking over to his weapons rack, he glanced over his shoulder. "I know you said that you didn't want a shield, but your outfit just totally reminded me of this awesome shield I stole from Remus years ago. It's retractable, so you can just clip it to your belt when you don't need it." 

He took something off the rack, then turned around to face Logan with a smile, holding a small black metal shield with intricate designs etched with green. Logan smirked, walking forward and gently taking it from Roman's hand, then he saw a button on the inside, and as soon as he pressed it, the shield collapsed into a small strip that Logan easily locked onto his belt. He glanced up at Roman. 

"Thanks."

Roman nodded, then checked his watch. "Well, we should head to bed. We want to get started early, so we need to rest."

Logan nodded, then plopped down on the small couch that Roman had in his room, his feet hanging over the arm. Roman raised his eyebrow. 

"What are you doing?"

Logan shrugged, laying his arm across his eyes. "Eh, if we're going to be leaving right from here, what's the point of going all the way back to my room when all my stuff is already here? I'll just crash in your room, Ro. No worries, I don't snore." He said with a yawn, and Roman eyed his friend with a bit of caution, then it went away as Logan's breath slowed, and Roman knew that the Neutral Side was asleep. He kicked off his boots and collapsed onto his own bed, flicking off the light and sighing as he closed his eyes, ready to embark tomorrow morning to search for his brother.

(If you want to see the character sketches for Logan, I will be posting them to my side blog I’m starting, https://badasslogan.tumblr.com )

[itsworn]

Why You Should Go 200MPH with the ECTA

We did it – we just slid into the 200 MPH Club during September’s ECTA Arkansas 1-Mile Challenge with a scant 202.6mph pass. The mistakes had been ironed out, and a final tune-up made sure that every bit of the 5280 feet before us was traversed as quickly as possible.

  While we had a solid HOT ROD Special – Rydin Decal’s venerable 1982 Pontiac Trans-Am that was filled with a 518ci all-aluminum big-block Chevy, Bruno-driven three-speed G-Force transmission, and a four-linked, quick-change rear-end with 2.77 gears – along with the experienced team of Jay Bell, Mark Weiler, Eric Gellman, Carl Dillon, Ed Sellers, and Greg Drake, we still had a lot to learn to break the two-century mark.

  Land speed racing (LSR) is a curious adventure for those who’ve day dreamt about hitting terminal velocity on just about any open road laid out before us. It’s not the same competitiveness of going toe-to-toe in drag racing, or door-to-door in wheel-to-wheel racing. In fact, what drives most LSR racers is pure curiosity. There’s something to be said about pushing a record further into the speedometer’s reach, you “beat” the other guy or gal that way; but for the most part, it’s a strangely personal pursuit of speed.

There’s really no prize money in LSR, even auto-cross has more payouts, and there’s virtually no fame outside of Bonneville. You’re often not even chasing the times of someone you’re sharing the weekend with – many records are broken years and decades after their last reset. It’s just you and the machine versus horsepower and aerodynamics. Maybe there’s a little bit of ego, when you’re racing for a record, what you’re racing for is an accomplishment that really only a single human being has ever achieved. That accomplishment might be very, very niche- like the Geo Metro of Jim Sievers gunning for 120mph, or a turbine-driven streamliner chasing 500mph – but each is equal in their passion and persistence.

  In that focused atmosphere, there’s no room for error in making a record. There’s not another corner that you can line-up and make up time, there’s no pedal-fest where holeshots can be reeled back in. Yes, we’ll argue that your machine is doing most of the work in LSR, there’s just only so fast you can go with one that’s not built properly at this kind of performance knife-edge, but to make a record or a Two Club, it’s still all on your shoulders. You’ve got to make the best use of the start so that you can get up to speed sooner and fight the drag at higher speeds over the most distance. Each shift is vital, especially in our case where this particular engine is unproven in the car for a 200mph mile. We had to make sure that our little 518ci powerplant had the best chance possible at stretching its legs on every single run.

  We kicked off the Arkansas 1-Mile Challenge on Thursday with the initial tech inspection and registration. Like any race, Day 0 is something of a homecoming for a group of high-speed misfits. Race weekends bring teams together that are often splintered across the US on a typical day, but it’s one of those reasons why even a bad weekend at the races are better than most good weeks in real life.

  Tech as a rookie in land speed racing is necessarily strict – all eyes are on you to prove that you’re not a total idiot (as you’ve got to be a least a little bit of one to engage in motorsports). This includes proving that A) you can read a rule book, B) that your safety gear (cage, belts, suit, etc) is up to snuff for your class and speed, and that, C) you can bail out of the car in case of emergency.

We must’ve shown an honest sense of self preservation, as we passed our bail-out on the first go, and the team had the car ready-to-roll for ECTA’s safety inspection. On Friday, lanes opened for licensing passes. This is where you’ve got to show that you’ve got a good handle of your machine and a reliable sense of placement on course. This is all equally serious, no matter if you’ve got a 150mph goal or a 250mph one – what the race organizers want to see is that the parachutes come out on-time, the right turn-outs are used, and that you and the race car aren’t fighting each other to get there.

  Our first run was to the half-mile marker, and it was our first time driving the car ever. It was a soft pass, rolling in and feeling out the Bruno-driven, three-speed G-Force transmission. In short, it’s a three-speed manual with a torque converter, and it used a V-gate shifter. It’s a unique sequential shifter that makes what would be an H-pattern a seemingly simple back-and-forth motion. By pulling the trigger lever on the pistol-grip and pushing it forward, first gear was engaged. Then you release the trigger before pulling back to engage second, and one last click forward for third. The tricky bit is the Bruno drive adds a variable, that the engine RPM and transmission input shaft RPM can be mismatched (unlike a manual, where the clutch keep things locked.) This tidbit didn’t affect our next licensing pass to the three-quarter mark, but it bit us on the first full-throttle pass.

The monstrous Pro System SV1 carb was just a bit out of tune at the start of the weekend, and it bogged at full-throttle. Pulling it back to 95-percent made more power, but the slight pedaling meant that the engine and transmission RPM began to miss-match, blocking third-gear just like if you hadn’t clutched correctly in a normal manual. The third pass was aborted when the throw forward was blocked with a blocky vibration through the shifter. We ended the second day with a respectable, but still boggy, pass to 190mph. It was mostly our fault, we missed third again, but managed to gently hold the shifter forward and breathe off the throttle, which allowed it to fall into third-gear (like it feels when clutchless shifting as the sychros match up), but it was a small delay that penalized our speed on the big end. But, hey, at least all of our ‘chutes were popping after having just learned how to pack them that morning!

  These gaffes were annoying, but there was no expectation of a trick shot, and Jay and Eric were constantly helping to problem solve with us through each step of the learning curve. The next morning the best chance we had at getting the 518 up to 200. The cool morning air meant that power would be easier to find, and we were confident that fattening up the carb would allow for healthier full-throttle runs. Coming off the line that morning, things felt good.

  There was no bogging, as soon as we rolled into the throttle, the 518 grunted off the line as if it was being pulled by a rubber band. First and second gear clicked by quickly, but almost half of the run was charging through third gear (which, we finally threw successfully.) The half-mile marker came up sooner, and the three-quarter flags were gone in blink. There’s no light-speed moment, it’s just that you progressively have to pay more and more attention to what’s going on further down course. When you’re looking to skip a footfall-field-a-second, it’s world-altering to perceive things at this pace for the first time. We knew that the run was faster, we knew that there was more RPM through the traps, and that everything felt faster – but it’s all but certain as you finally reach for a parachute as you enter the traps, even though it’s also hit harder than ever felt.

At ECTA’s 1-Mile challenge, there’s about a minute alone on the return road as the chase truck catches up. By this point, we’d but come proficient at packing up the parachute and resetting the car for the return trip, but it’s almost robotic as your head floats in the clouds analyzing every bit of the previous run. It’s a bizarre mix of confidence and doubt: you’re sure you’ve gone faster, your six senses haven’t been rattled so hard before… but in that hyper-critical analysis it’s too easy to start picking at the mistakes. It’s a few seconds of self-reflection that’s hard to match in the usual nine-to-five life.

  It was an honest surprise when Jay finally quit teasing us and gave the final word: 202.6mph! It was not just good enough for the AA/GC record at the new Blytheville course, but it was enough to enter the ECTA 200 MPH Club. In fact, that little 518 managed to scratch another driver through 200mph, with Greg Drake picking up the wheel and chiseling though several runs in the 190mph range to enter the 200 Club in AA/GRS with a 200.3mph pass.

What’s proven here is less about our gall in chasing a Two-Club in our first land speed race and more about the result of an excellent team. This is really the secret in racing, more than any horsepower or wind tunnel trick: it’s an extra set of eyes over your shoulder. Racing is undoubtedly risky, especially when you consider there’s no real, world-changing prize at the end of the road. There is something special about being a part of a small population of the Earth that’s chosen to break this barrier, but we’d be shakely chiseling at the number much longer without the wisdom and coaching of a great group of racers and crew around us. In motorsport, it takes an unspoken selflessness to operate a stable team. Mistakes happen in every race from all sides of the equation; from the driver, crew, or car. That said, when all three can put up with each other long enough, grow together from each other’s struggles and put the pieces together, that’s what makes the magic happen on track. It’s impossible to ignore that the racing family is one of the main reasons we sign our lives away to this stuff – second to winning your goals, wherever that bar is set.

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