#elliot from cartoon therapy

[thomas-sanders-shipname-glossary]

The Plan so far

So, this blog was a very spontaneous idea I had yesterday (very late in the evening). So I took some time to think it through today, as well as get some more lists from other Fanders.

The plan now is to first create lists for the separate facets of the Thomas Sanders fandom, i.e. Sanders Sides, Shorts Characters, Cartoon Therapy and Roleslaying with Roman. (I'm sorry that this means I need to split up Remy and Emile for now, we'll get to crossovers later.)

For that to work, I need a comprehensive list of characters first. So this is my call for your help! I'll put a list of who I got so far after the cut and you can reply to this post or send me an ask about more characters I can/should include!

I'm really happy with the positive reactions I got for creating this blog, thank you for your support! 💗💙💖💙💜💛💚

Sanders Sides:

Patton

Roman

Logan

Virgil

Janus

Remus

Orange

Thomas

Nico

King

Dragon Witch (unsure if I should include her but if I do, this is where she'll be)

I know King is most commonly used as a sort of fusion of Roman and Remus but for the purposes of this list, I will see him as an entirely separate character and as such include ships between him and Roman and/or Remus.

Shorts Characters

Remy - Sleep

Teal/Teagan - Teacher

Dayd - Dad

Pryce - Prince

Andy - Anxiety

Dice/Anton/Cedric - The Critic

Linda - Thomas' Cowlick

Missy - Misleading Compliments

Nathan - Crimefighter Dude

Detective Sanders (from this series which I found through this post by @loganslowdown4!)

Percy/Magenta - Printer

Harley/Hart - Heart

Immy - Immune System

Brian - Brain

Dean - Denial

Sabina - Spam Bot

Ishmael - Ice Machine

Jasper - GPS

Scot - Scam Likely

Wieland - WIP

Phaelan - Phone

Fane - Fan

Steven - Electric Stapler

Ace - Action Hero that can't catch things

Rian - Rain

Mike - Microwave

Nessy - Illness

Apollo - Sun

Jericho - Moon

Taz / Tucker - Task

Bouce/Boucy - The Bouncing Ball

Anton - Antagonist

Pranks - Disney/Pokémon Pranks

Asher/Rudolph - Christmas

Jasper - Thanksgiving

Months

Jaana - January

Fabian - Feburary

Mara - March

April - April

May - May

Junie - June

Julia/Julian - July

Augusta/Augustus - August

Seth/Ember - September

Toby - October

Nove - November

Demetri/Odessa - December

Zodiacs

Ariel/Ari - Aries

Leona/Leonard/Leo - Leo

Candace/Candy - Cancer

Phillipa/Pip/Pippy - Pisces

Schuyler/Sky - Scorpio

Tara - Taurus

Sarah/Sally - Sagittarius

Caprice - Capricorn

Gemma - Gemini

Virginia/Ginny - Virgo

Liberty/Libby - Libra

Quinn - Aquarius

Cartoon Therapy (as far as I know, all the characters in this series are adults)

Emile Picani

Elliot

Mitchel (I don't actually know if that's how you spell his name)

Dot

Larry

Sloane

Corbin

Kai

Lauren

Sam

Roleslaying with Roman

Roman of Reston

Youngblood

Noise

??? (Mike)

Flow

Britney

Djembe

Bob Normie

Criss

Cross

Mother

Bard King

Ryker

There are many more characters in the series of course, but I do not know which it makes sense to include here, so please let me know! Also if there is another part of the fandom I forgot to include entirely.

[naminethewriter]

Even more writing asks!

What is your favorite Sanders Sides dynamic to write? Is there a character that is easiest for you to write? One that is more difficult than the others? Is there a character you haven't written yet (such as the Vine characters or anyone from Cartoon Therapy?) that you really want to?

How much worldbuilding did you do for Brothers and Secrets? I loved the, like. Modern supernatural aspects to it. What other sorts of supernatural creatures exist in the world? I assume it's not common knowledge amongst the normie humans, so how difficult is it for the supernatural to stay hidden? How and when did Logan reveal everything to Remus?

Man, have I put off answering this for a long time 😅 But lets see:

Favorite dynamic - Uhh, not sure but probably Janus and Remus? Especially when they know each other so well and bounce of off each other constantly. With Janus encouraging Remus to be himself and Remus supporting Janus in turn 🥰 It works both platonically and romantically.

Character easy to write - Well, they all have their challenges but I like writing Janus the most probably, because his sarcasm is just very fun to do 💛

Characters I haven't written yet - Elliot, definitely. At least I don't think I've written them yet 😅 But I do love them, which is why I mentioned them in Brothers and Secrets.

Speaking of Brothers and Secrets, the worldbuilding is not all that solid actually. I wanted to write a Vampire fic finally, but I didn't think too much about how they work in advance and including Emile as a dryad was mostly an excuse to have Remy want to get rid of the house 😅

As for other creatures, I haven't settled on anything but mermaids, sirens and selkies are most definitely included, as are other nature spirits like the dryads. If I revisit that universe, I might add more.

Yes, most normal humans know nothing about the supernatural but that is mostly because they don't want to. If they truly want to prove it, they could find it with some persistence but sharing hard proof around would not be permitted by most supernatural creatures. If such things happen, witches like Janus take care of it. If you have enough witches, they can basically erase anything they want, even the memories of all of human kind. It's not in their nature to do so just for the hell of it though, so gathering enough witches to try and take over the world is basically impossible.

And Logan didn't have to reveal anything to Remus. Remus had always believed in the supernatural and done some research. It's how he found that club in Liechtenstein that was said to be a popular hangout spot for the supernatural. There he met Lucas, they had a one night stand and the next morning, he ran into Logan in the kitchen. Lucas hadn't hidden that he's a vampire from Remus and it was a big reason why the hooked up.

Thank you again for all the asks, Kye, even if it took me a long while to answer this one 🤭💙

[andiandyandee]

We Are Going to Be Friends Pt. 7

I finally got freakin’ part 7 written, you guys do not realize how much I had to fight with this chapter for no goddamn reason.

Words: 1585

Tag List: @datfearlessfangirl @princemesscharming @illogicalthinking @holliberries

Here’s the series on ao3  here’s the last part in case you missed it

Okay here’s the Fic:

    Logan did not expect that comment in his English class to escalate to.. this, but he didn’t argue when a freshman girl, one of the others who had begun taking high school classes early and was therefore in several of his classes, asked if she could sit with him at lunch, just so nobody would bother her, a few days after the incident. She had braces and glasses, looking far more like a traditional ‘nerd’ than Logan did. He obliged, leaving his headphones around his neck in case she decided to speak. He had chosen not to go back to Remus and Roman’s table, though they had offered. The girl, Alex, didn’t speak much, other to explain that she had been getting bullied by some of the older girls in her Physical Education class.  Logan nodded but didn’t say much one way or the other in her defense. He did, however, give her his cell phone number, and the number of a self-defense trainer he knew. She began classes the next week.

    Logan did not make friends, per se, but he did find himself with a few people more often than not. He had even begun regularly speaking to Elliot and Kai again, albeit tentatively. There were a few others like Alex, who mostly appeared hoping that being around Logan would help them avoid any harassment, but there were a few others, people who also liked science and literature, people who liked the same bands as Logan, a few members of the GSA that despite not knowing Logan’s sexuality adopted him into their groups, and convinced him to attend their meetings. His group was not unlike the group the twins had around them, though they tended to be less rambunctious in the school. Outside of school ended up being a different story, and Logan began spending less and less time at his parents' house. Evenings at punk shows in subpar bars and basements, killing time at parks and people’s houses, study sessions in the only library in town, where the Librarian pretended to shush them, as if they weren’t the only ones there, protests and counter-protests took up all of his time. Logan hadn’t dropped the apathetic nature he had developed, of course, but the people he sounded himself with didn’t seem to mind, and none of them were close enough to actually know that it was an act. He adamantly refused to make up with his brother, who would come into his room every night when he heard Logan climb in through the window to tell him he was being irresponsible. Logan would counter that his grades were even better than they had been previously, he had finally gotten his history grade up from a B to an A, and it had been Larry’s idea that Logan begin hanging out with people his own age, anyway.

    Larry reminded Logan that he had lost weight because he was now regularly skipping meals to sit outside with his ‘friends’ and was never home for dinner. He pointed out that before he spent time with these people, Logan had been in fights, but never to the extent he seemed to get into them now. Logan had not, of course, told his brother that he spent most weekends at mosh pits or punching nazis, so of course he had assumed Logan was fighting. And sure, it wasn’t Larry’s fault that Logan still didn’t have much movement in his right hand, but he had not done anything to help, and that was just as bad in Logan’s eyes.

    And then, as Remus had mentioned on their first day, they began the unit on Shakespeare. Remus immediately began getting frustrated in English class, taking longer to finish quizzes, groaning at the sub-par grades he was achieving. Logan tried his best to ignore it, but eventually, he had to step in.

    “Remus, you’re overthinking this sonnet. You can take it nearly at face value and comprehend the meaning.” Logan had finished his sonnet evaluation worksheet after about five minutes, and Remus had been glaring at his for nearly twenty minutes now.

    “I just.. don’t get it. What the hell is ‘summer’s lease’?”

    “Well, what is a lease?”

    “It’s basically when you like, temporarily own something right? Like renting? What the hell is summer renting?”

    “What does summer do only temporarily?”

    “I don’t know? Exist, I guess?”

    “So, it would stand to reason that summer’s lease would be…?”

    “The.. time it temporarily exists? So it’s just saying summer isn’t long enough?” Logan gave him a small smile, nodding.

    “Precisely.”

    “Why couldn’t he just say that? ” Remus groaned, jotting down the answer. “Are you busy tonight?” Logan raised an eyebrow, but shrugged.

    “Not really, no.”

    “Want to come over? I think Roman is having a weekend sleepover thing, but I really need someone who isn’t going to be singing Next to Normal songs to spend time with or I’m gonna jump in front of a moving train, which means I’ll have to walk to a train station, because otherwise, they’ll tow dad’s car, and it’s so COLD outside right now, I hate winter, so I’ll probably freeze to death before I even make it to the nearest train station, and I-”

    “Did you know Grasshoppers have ears on their stomachs? One on each side of the first abdominal segment, directly beneath the wings.” Logan said nonchalantly, pretending to not notice the way Remus took a deep breath before replying,

    “What?” Logan laughed, slightly too loud in the small classroom, before nodding at Remus

    “I would love to attend, Remus. So long as it isn’t going to cause a problem with your parents, or the other.. guests involved.”

    “Nah, they’ll be fine with it. See you at like five, then?” Logan nodded, going back to staring into space while Remus went back to glaring at his paper.

    At 5 PM, Logan stood outside the Sander’s house, looking blankly at the “For Sale” Sign in the front yard. They were leaving? What was the point of having this “Sleepover” if they were planning on abandoning their group anyway? He heard Remus’ voice call to him from the porch.

    “Specs! Come on in! We only bite with your explicit consent!” Logan turned from the sign to smirk at the teen in front of him. Remus must have seen what Logan was looking at. “Don’t worry, we aren’t going to screw up the house tonight. Dad would probably kill us.”

    “I was unaware you were moving, where will you be going?” Remus looked only slightly surprised.

    “Oh! I can’t believe you haven’t heard Roman bitching about it. We’re just moving across town, like ten blocks over. Dad wanted somewhere that had room for studios and offices and stuff, and this place only has one guest room.” Logan raised an eyebrow.

    “Why is Roman complaining if you’re only moving ten blocks away? You won’t even need to transfer schools.” Remus shook his head.

    “Because he’s dramatic? He drew the short straw so He doesn’t get the attic room in the new place and he’s bummed about it. It has this massive bay window thing that turns into a skylight.” Remus grinned. “And it has an ensuite.” Roman groaned as the two walked into the living room.

    “Are you telling even MORE people about how I was SLIGHTED- Oh, Hi Logan,” Roman immediately stopped talking in his standard dramatic yell in favor of a small, more reserved voice, turning away quickly from them. Elliot coughed, and Kai was patting their back with a grin.

    “Hey, Lo! We didn’t know you were coming!” Kai was still rubbing Elliot’s back, and they were still bent over, body shaking in what appeared to be a quite serious coughing fit.

    “Are they… alright?” Logan was mildly concerned. “They seem to be having trouble breathing.” As if on cue, Elliot wheezed, in what almost sounded like laughter.

    “They’re fine, just swallowed something wrong, don’t worry.” Kai’s grin seemed out of place still, but Logan nodded.

    “Alright. Well, I am in attendance because Remus invited me. I didn’t mean to -er- interrupt.” Roman had laid his head in his hands, and Elliot had finally sat up, tears streaming down their face. Remus chuckled and pulled Logan towards the stairs.

    “Come on, Lo. I want to work on some of the English work before we have to endure them for the night.” Logan, grateful to be pulled away from the nonsense that was occurring in the living room, nodded.

    “Oh, okay!” They made it up the stairs and into Remus’s room, which was far neater than Logan expected. It wasn’t spotless by any means, but it was definitely cleaner than Logan’s room.

    “I am so sorry for him, he’s such a nightmare.” Remus laughed, dropping down onto his bed with an unceremonious ‘oof’.

    “Who, Kai? He seemed a little too amused at Elliot’s coughing, but I wouldn’t call him a nightmare…” Remus looked at Logan incredulously.

    “What? I meant Roman.” Logan was confused.

    “What did Roman do? I mean, I think I’ve mentioned it before, but I’ve always suspected Roman didn’t particularly like me. I don’t mind it, so long as he is civil.” Remus’s mouth was hanging open.

    “You have got to be kidding.”

    “Kidding about what?”

    “Never mind.” Remus shook his head, mumbling something akin to ‘useless gays, the lot of them’ under his breath before pulling out his English textbook. “Please teach me the ways of the bard before I spontaneously combust.”

[thomassandersfander]

They are a fashion icon. I love this outfit so much ♡ (photo from Thomas' instagram)

[babiesafezone]

i kin and collect names from some of the same stories but only like 2 of the names i use are actually of the characters i kin

[lovelilijazunde]

30 Follower Celebration!

Okay, so I came up with this au that I may or may not write something with later, but here ya go, a Sanders Cinematic Universe extended family/adoption au! 

The Sanders Extended Family (ages dated to when everyone was a full legal member of the famILY)(Groups sorted by related-by-blood)

Sanders

Larry (41) (Dad)

Remy (13)

Roman (10)

Remus (10)

Stones

Dot (41) (Mom)

Logan (13)

Patton (11)

Virgil (8)

Dice (6)

Stones but Dot’s brother-in-law’s kid

Kai (7)

Picanis

Ethan D. (12)

Emile (11)

Elliot (9)

(Yes I changed Roman and Remus’s birthdays so they could be twins, hush.)

Patton: January 15

Ethan D.: February 3rd

Roman: June 14

Remus: June 14

Logan: November 3

Virgil: December 19

Emile: December 16

Elliot: December 16

Kai: August 8

Dice: Sept. 11

Remy : January 16

Larry and Dot were both married to other people, had sons with them, and got divorced. When Larry and Dot got married, Dice (the youngest) was 2. They legally adopted the Picanis two years later, and Kai two years after that (Kai was a nephew of Dot’s, but his parents died). The Picanis were adopted via foster care, when they were removed from a neglectful home.

The kid’s age order: Remy, Logan, Ethan D., Emile, Patton, Roman, Remus, Elliot, Virgil, Kai, Dice

The kid’s grade groupings:  Remy & Logan, Ethan D., Emile & Patton, Roman & Remus & Elliot, Virgil, Kai, Dice

Andy, Teal, Dayd, Pryce, Nate, and the other Sanders Shorts characters not listed are school friends of the kids.

[dungeons-and-sides]

Patton

This is the story of the catalyst that sent Patton out into the world, where he found his new fam-ILY. It is long, unbeta’d, and angsty. Please note the warnings, as I am very worried at all times about upsetting people. I have never posted anything really before, so I don’t know what all might need to be tagged, so I’m going overboard. Let me know if you see something else you’d like a warning for.

Content warnings, onscreen: frequent mentions of blood, non-graphic mentions a ‘friend’ being an asshole, hints at depression and negative thinking

Offscreen: suicide, arson, people being treated very poorly in a prison-esque place

Words: 6758

Patton skipped through the streets, grinning at anyone he happened to make eye contact with. The time he’d spent in Lliira’s temple, his home away from home, before his shopping trip hadn’t been enough to make this bearable.

Ordinarily, he would make more of an effort to greet everyone and catch up when he went out for supplies, but today he was looking forward to getting home. Today, he skipped home a little more stiffly, his purchases clutched to his chest, determined not to seem bothered. His smile was tight, and didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he had no intention of loitering long enough for anyone to notice.

He usually looked forward to the small talk. He took pleasure in the simplicity of the mindless how’ve-you-been, how’s-the-family, how-about-the-weather chatter. It was a bit more… Silent, at home; and while he understood it was what Mitchell needed, it was very far from what Patton preferred. 

When they’d lived with the others, there was always background noise. There was always someone a few homes away singing, or praying, or hollering for the family to come in for dinner, or playing games.

After they’d moved to the other side of the valley, he’d taken to talking to himself under his breath. Sometimes he just danced to Lliira, on the tips of his toes to avoid being too noisy.

The small talk with the others was routine. Pleasant. He knew exactly what they were going to say, and took an odd sort of pride in seeming open and friendly with his answers without giving too much away.

Yes, they were doing fine- no thanks to that weather last week; have you ever seen such a storm at this time of year! Yes, Mitchell was as stubborn as ever about outings- had he mentioned, they probably won’t make it to dinner Saturday night, but thanks very much for asking! No, they didn’t need any help right now, but he would certainly reach out if anything changed.

Patton knew they were only trying to help, to rebuild the connections that used to be there, but Mitchell certainly didn’t want their help, and today he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. He honestly did not know if he could be interested in whatever they were doing day-to-day, to listen intently to someone’s account of doing their laundry.

In particular, he really was not in the mood to overhear the elders gossip about what a pity it was that they’d moved, that he didn’t have a family- nevermind how often he told them that he did, that Mitchell was his family, that they were all they needed. 

They meant well. Their gossip stemmed from a legitimate worry that he and Mitchell were secluding themselves- which they were- out of grief for their parents- which they were not.

He was proud of his parents, and would never regret their willingness to risk their lives to help others. Mitchell just… needed space from other people. It was only the bonding they’d done over their parents that allowed Patton to come with him.

Now well past the market, Patton allowed himself to drop the pretense of Happy Pappy Patton. Following the Goddess of Joy did not make him as permanently happy as people seemed to assume.

He gave himself a moment to sigh, slouching slightly as he abandoned his normally perky posture. Setting his groceries down at his feet briefly, he rubbed his eyes harshly, blinking away the stars after. He reached down for his bags-

And froze. He had stopped moving before he even registered why; instinct beating out his rationalization. Footsteps, moving through leaves. Too big to be a halfling, but irregular, as if dragging something behind them. Nothing ever came out this way, so it wasn’t from here. And whatever it was, it was coming towards him.

Patton reached nervously for his staff, ready to defend himself, but it wasn’t there. He had left it at home, had never needed it on this trip before, had wanted his hands free for more groceries.

He took a step forward, towards the noise, and held his hands up in weak fists. Maybe if he looked ready to fight, they would leave? Anything that much larger than him and injured would likely lash out without warning.

He hated conflict of any kind, and Lliira was against violence, so he had never bothered to learn any offensive spells- not that that mattered, not with his staff at home, useless. Combat had been right out. Whatever was coming towards him maybe didn’t need to know that, though.

A Dragonborn burst through the trees ahead of him, stumbling to a stop when they realized they were no longer alone. They were breathing heavily, and Patton would normally attribute that to their having traveled for a while, if they weren’t also clutching their side, blood soaking their shirt.

The irregularity in their footsteps was also answered. The leg on the same side was turned out awkwardly, as though it had been twisted in the wrong direction and left there.

Patton’s fists immediately unfurled into placating hands, raising them up further.

“Hey there, kiddo,” he said, switching to Common. He spoke softly, hoping not to scare it. The Dragonborn was well over two times his height, and much more broad, but any creature that injured was likely to be wary of a stranger.

“My name is Patton. I’m an acolyte of Lliira, goddess of Joy, and you don’t look very joyful right now, pal. You look hurt; do you need help?”

The Dragonborn didn’t react. Maybe they weren’t familiar with Common? That would make helping them kind of difficult. Their scales were dull, and their face was deathly pale. They may not understand what he was saying, but they were running out of time to get medical attention before they were liable to lose consciousness, and there was no way Patton could carry them back home.

“Okay, bud; I know this is scary, but I need you to come home with me so I can help you, okay? I can heal you, but you have to come with me so I can use my staff. Without it, I don’t think I’ll be able to do enough to really help you.”

When they still didn’t acknowledge him, he took a breath, and reached out one of his hands very slowly, beckoning them forward.

“Please let me help you,” he begged. “I promise I won’t hurt you, and neither will anybody else. You’ll be safe. Please?”

The Dragonborn regarded him closely for a long moment, the sudden intensity of their gaze the only indication they’d heard him. They closed their eyes for a moment. Then, reopening them, they motioned slightly with the arm not holding their side, a small ‘after you’ gesture. Patton grinned in relief, and clapped his hands together. 

“Oh, thank you!! Don’t you worry; we’ll get you fixed right up! You just follow me, okay?” Patton gathered up his groceries and led the way, his new friend shuffling along awkwardly behind him.

---

He was midway through a bit of a ramble about Lliira and how wonderful she was when they made it home. Patton went to usher them in, and abruptly stopped. Their ceiling was only just four feet tall. It was plenty of room for a halfling, but not nearly enough for a Dragonborn, even crawling. He turned to face them sheepishly.

“Sorry; the ceiling’s kinda low. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but halflings run kinda small! We’ve never had anyone as tall as you visit, so I didn’t even think about it! Just... wait right here; I need to get everything sorted first. Do you need anything in the meantime? Water, a blanket, a snack?”

The Dragonborn shook his head ever so slightly, eyes closed. They looked like they were focused on just staying upright. Patton raced inside, throwing his bags and cloak onto the kitchen counter. Mitchell didn’t seem to be home; there was no light coming from under his door.

Hesitating slightly, Patton decided to go with his gut and bring out some water and a loaf of bread. He wasn’t sure what the diet of a Dragonborn looked like, but surely anything would be helpful after bleeding out for gosh knows how long. His staff was just inside the door, so he grabbed it on the way back out.

His friend was leaning heavily against a tree, favoring their injured leg, and didn’t react to Patton’s return. Setting down the bread and water, he lifted his staff and quickly cast Mold Earth, shaping the dirt in front of his house into a sort of low bed, large enough for the Dragonborn to lay down, and still have room next to them for Patton to work.

Patton stepped forward carefully, one hand still holding his staff, the other reaching out to them.

“Hey, bud. I made you a bed, you see? Time to lay down now so I can work. Then we’ll get you fixed right up, okay?” 

He waited for a response, but none came. If it weren’t for the shallow rise and fall of their chest, he’d fear the worst. He took a chance and moved closer, keeping his voice low. 

“I'm right here, pal. I’m going to touch you, okay? I just need to get you lying down; I don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself more while I’m working. I’m not going to hurt you. I just need you to move over here, alright?”

Nothing. Praying that they wouldn’t fall on him, Patton gingerly reached out and grabbed their hand. He tugged slightly, testing. After a long, tense moment, they pushed themself away from the tree weakly, eyes still shut tight. Patton grinned.

“There you go, kiddo! Are you sure you’re not a follower of Lliira too? Because we’re called Joy-bringers, and you sure are bringing me joy right now! Just a little further. I made you a nice little dirt bed- gosh, that sounds ominous, doesn’t it? Like the set-up to a dirt nap. None of those, please!

“I hope it’s comfy enough; I’ve never made a bed before. I’ve made a few little tables before, if I needed to set something down, but that’s about it as far as furniture. I do make bridges sometimes, if I’m trying to get over something big.” He paused. "Well, big compared to me."

Patton helped them stagger to the makeshift bed, and eased them onto it. Once they were settled, he took a deep breath, and lifted their shirt. Oh, dear. That was… not wonderful.

The severity of it had been hidden by fabric. He’d only really healed the occasional scrape and bump before. Every so often, he got called in to heal a fractured limb of some kind, but there were rarely visible effects, and nothing this gruesome. Wincing in sympathy, he squeezed his eyes shut and cast Cure Wounds.

Slowly but surely, the wound began to stitch itself back together. The blood stains remained, but at least it wasn’t actively bleeding anymore. It wasn’t perfect, and still looked a little raw, so he also threw in a Heal Wounds.

Thankfully, it didn’t look like there was any lasting damage, as far as Patton could tell. He let out a shaky breath, shook his head to clear it, and used another Cure Wounds on their leg.

“Well, that’s as much as I can do for you, kiddo. How do you feel? Better?”

The Dragonborn nodded ever so slightly, still out of it from the blood-loss and whatever else they’d been through. Patton patted their head gently, and brought them the bread and water.

“Now there’s something to be joyful about. Here’s a little something to settle your stomach. Let me know if you need anything else. I don’t know if you really like bread and water, but anything is better than nothing! You take small sips; I’ll be right back.”

Patton stepped back inside, taking a moment to rest his forehead on the doorway to the kitchen. That was a lot of magic, and a lot of stress, in a short period of time. He was going to need a nap after this. A long one.

Squaring his shoulders, he busied himself with collecting some rags and a bit more water to clean up the blood. Patton skipped back outside, carrying everything bundled in his arms. The water and bread still sat, untouched, on the bed next to the Dragonborn. Moving them to the side, he took a seat next to their hip.

“Now, I know you’re all fixed up, but you still look a little messy, so I’m going to get you all cleaned up, okay? I bet you’ll feel a lot better once you’re all clean. I’m going to take off your shirt, okay? Can you sit up a little for me?”

Without opening their eyes, they sat up slightly, yanking their shirt off roughly, before laying back down. They dropped it on the ground beside Patton, and rested their arm over their eyes. Even that much seemed to have winded them.

“Thanks, bud; but don’t overexert yourself, okay? You need to get your strength back. You really should have some water, at least, but for now you could probably use a long rest, huh? 

“I’m still going to try and clean you up. Let me know if I’m hurting you any, okay? I’m not too used to cleaning scales, but I don’t want any blood getting stuck between them, you know?” 

Patton waited for a refusal of some kind, but when it didn’t come, he set to work. Wetting one of the rags, he wiped gently over the worst areas. Hopefully, he could get most of it out of the way, and then go back to do the little crevices.

“It might distract you if you talked some. I wonder, can you tell me what happened? I know it’s none of my business, but you seem awfully far from home, and I’ve got to say that I am curious as to how you ended up so hurt. It’s okay if you can’t tell me, or if talking is too much right now; I just figured it’d be a good starting place.

“Besides, talking about bad things helps them feel less big, in my experience, and I’m a really good listener! You could start with your name if you wanted. Otherwise, I can just keep calling you my kiddo. Again, if you want to, that is. No pressure, sport. As you can probably tell, I’m more than capable of talking enough for the both of us!”

There was a long pause where Patton worked in silence. That was fine; he knew not everyone liked talking, especially to strangers. He’d give them another minute or two to decide if they wanted to talk, and if not, he’d find something to talk about.

Most of the newer blood was gone by now, leaving only the uncomfortable dried bits, when the Dragonborn spoke. Their voice was low and quiet, rumbling in their chest like thunder.

“My name is Camxakasendalor Ellionn. You may call me Ellionn.”

Patton squealed in excitement, alarming Ellionn so much that they lifted their arm up and stared at him in concern. He blushed.

“Sorry kiddo; I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just excited. I really like your name! It makes me really happy you were comfortable telling me!!”

“It is the least I could do, given your kindness. As for the source of my injuries...”

“Aw, shucks, Ellionn! You don’t owe me anything; I’m just happy to help! I just figured I’d ask, if you wanted to tell me.”

“I disagree, but I appreciate the sentiment. My injuries are the result of a decades-old decision."

"Decades? That looked awfully fresh for something that old, kiddo."

"You misunderstand me, although I do understand your confusion."

Ellionn paused to shift uncomfortably. They were, ostensibly, healed, but the area was likely still tender. 

"I used to work as a sort of prison guard, for someone I had never met. I answered to an elf, who took joy in being rude and cruel. I kept watch over those that my employer deemed dangerous, or guilty, and the elf kept watch over me. I was told these were people who had committed a legitimate crime. I was happy to stand guard until they were set to stand trial."

Patton sat down next to their bed, sensing that this might be a long story. Ellionn had seemed hesitant to start, but now the words were pouring out. 

"I found out after having worked there for ten years that, while some were legitimate criminals, many of those I had kept captive were merely people who my employer held a grudge against, or wished to get rid of quietly. None of his personal enemies ever stood trial. They stayed in their cells for years, decades, before being dragged away.

"When I discovered what I had been apart of, I demanded to see my employer, to know what right he had to condemn those he disliked. I was told that, if I had such strong feelings about it, I could see him personally- as one of his prisoners. I knew it would do no good if I were also imprisoned, so I held my tongue.

“A few weeks later, a high-priority group came in. They were under very high supervision, at all times, despite being too small to pose a physical threat. They were fed rarely, and treated worse than the prisoners who had committed actual crimes.

“I got myself transferred to their guard, and slowly earned their trust. I warned the prisoners to begin saving some of the few food scraps they were given, and get used to sleeping during the day. They were there for years; four of them, packed into a small cell.

The other guard fell asleep at his post one day. I took the opportunity. I let them escape. I waited until they were far enough away, then sounded the alarm. They were never found. I knew those in charge were suspicious of me, so I had to play the part a while longer. I stayed for another year, biding my time, then left. They took my departure as proof of my guilt. Powerful men like that do not forget slights, so I have been on the run since.

“They found me today. I lost them about an hour before you found me.”

Ellion let out a deep sigh and laid his head back, out of breath from his story. Patton could feel his mouth hanging open slightly, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. Goodness, how brave they must be! How strong! He ought to thank Lliira for his new friend; someone so kind must bring a lot of joy. He took a breath to say as much, but Ellionn beat him to it.

“Forgive me, but I feel a bit tired. I think it would benefit me if I slept for awhile.”

“Oh, of course!” Patton scrambled to his feet, gathering everything up, including their rather mangled shirt. He left behind the water and bread, in case they needed it.

“Just holler if you need anything, bud! I’ll be just in here. I still have to put away my groceries, after all! Sweet dreams!”

Patton made his way inside, careful to leave the door open in case Ellionn tried to call for him. He leaned his staff against the wall again. Rolling up his sleeves, he set to work cleaning everything up, including himself.

Apparently, it was hard to clean up a significant amount of blood without also getting covered in blood.

When everything was clean and put away again, he snuck a peek at Ellionn. Out like a light. Their being shirtless gave Patton an idea. Another glance at their old shirt, stiff with blood and torn right through, solidified it.

He grabbed an old blanket they didn’t use anymore, along with a needle and thread. Nothing of Patton’s or Mitchell’s would ever fit a Dragonborn, but maybe he could put together a new shirt for his new friend. At least they wouldn’t be covered in dried blood anymore. Nothing brings more joy than finally feeling clean after feeling icky for a while!

He sketched out a rough shape, making it a little bigger than he thought necessary, just in case. He cut out the pieces carefully, and sewed them together.

It was a bit rough, since he didn’t know Ellionn’s measurements, but anything had to be better than nothing. In the midst of looking for some prettier thread, to do a design on the front, he heard a shout from outside. Abandoning his search, he rushed outside, grabbing his staff just in case. Mitchell was home- and he had a dagger to Ellionn’s throat.

“Mitchell; no!! He’s a friend!! I’m helping him!”

Patton ran over and tried to insert himself between them, staff held in front of him defensively. Ellionn made no attempt to move. They seemed eerily calm for the situation; their eyes leveled on Mitchell’s face.

One hand was still resting on their stomach, but the other was wrapped around the water pitcher Patton had given them. It looked as though they’d had some water, which was good, although being held at knifepoint probably didn’t help them feel any better.

Mitchell, to his credit, pulled back slightly, but his dagger remained at the ready.

“Your friend? Patton, if you’ve known this thing for more than an hour, I’ll eat my own shirt,” he scoffed.

Patton shuffled uncomfortably. “They’re not a thing, kiddo. And just because we haven’t known each other long doesn’t mean we’re not friends. They were hurt, they needed help, and I helped them. That means we’re friends now. Right?”

He turned, looking earnestly at the Dragonborn. Their eyes, previously locked onto Mitchell’s dagger, flickered over to meet Patton’s. After a moment, they nodded, before looking quickly back to the knife. Patton beamed, turning back to Mitchell.

“You see? We’re friends; and I promised my friend they’d be safe with us! I would have brought them inside to be comfier, but I didn’t figure they’d fit all that well. We should look into getting a taller house, so we can have taller friends visit!”

Mitchell rolled his eyes, making no move to put away his dagger.

“Congratulations. You’re officially the most naive person I’ve ever met. You know this thing could just be tricking you, right? As soon as it’s better, it could kill us and steal all our crap.”

Patton frowned. “Mitchell, that’s not a very nice thing to say about someone you just met. In fact, you still haven’t met, because you’re too busy being mean! Introduce yourself properly, at least.”

“Why should I introduce myself to every random thing you bring home?”

“Because you are being extremely rude and judgmental, you’re still threatening them, and you’re calling a clearly sentient creature a ‘thing,’ which goes against the definition. Don’t you know that?”

Mitchell scowled, caught. If there was anything that would stop Mitchell in his tracks, it was questioning his knowledge. Patton continued, ignoring his sour expression.

“Ellionn, this is Mitchell. I told you about him on they way over, remember? Mitchell, this is Ellion Cam-xa-kas-en-dalor.” He sounded the name out slowly.

“That’s it, right?” Ellionn nodded, amused. 

“Sorry; I just only heard it once, so I wasn’t sure. Since we’re doing introductions, my name is Patton Hugbringer, follower of Lliira, goddess of joy, happiness, dance, festivals, freedom, and all sorts of nice things, really! You already knew the Patton part, but I like my full name. Plus, I’m always happy to talk about Lliira. Nice to meet you, Ellionn!”

Patton grasped their hand gently and shook. Ellionn smiled at him faintly, then their face dropped.

“You.. your family name is Hugbringer?”

“Well, yeah! I think it fits; don’t you? Hugs sure do bring people a lot of joy!”

Ellionn seemed to be deep in thought, so Patton turned back to Mitchell, preparing to scold him further, when they spoke up again.

“Have you two parents, a male and a female?”

Patton froze, then forced himself to turn away for a moment. He could feel two sets of eyes burning into the back of his head- one concerned, one angry- but he refused to face them just yet.

Cleaning up would give him something to do, something that didn’t involve thinking about this. The pitcher. They’d already had some of the water. Surely, he could refill it by now.

“I did,” he answered finally. He laid his staff along the side of the bed and gathered up the pitcher, and the bread as well, as an afterthought. He hoped that would be the end of it, but of course not.

“Forgive me for intruding on a… clearly delicate subject, but… did your parents perhaps have friends who were called ‘Bookgatherer’?”

The water pitcher Patton had just picked up fell to the ground, splashing all over his feet. The bread bounced slightly, rolling away. He didn’t notice. He didn’t hear Mitchell yell, didn’t hear him immediately drill Ellionn for more information about their parents, didn’t hear Ellionn’s gentle concern for his sudden lack of response.

There was a sort of ringing in his ears. Did Ellionn know what had happened to their parents? Were they alive? Did he know why they left?

Slowly, he tuned back in, Mitchell’s increasingly frantic voice becoming more and more clear. He became aware of a hand on his arm- Ellionn’s, who was watching him carefully, and entirely ignoring Mitchell’s raving.

Silently, he raised one hand to Mitchell, signalling him to pause in his interrogation. He seemed ready to object, but an uncharacteristically sharp look from Patton silenced him.

“Bookgatherer is Mitchell’s family name. Did you… know our parents?”

Ellion’s face was stoney. “Do you recall the group of prisoners that I befriended, and let escape? The group of four who were too small to pose a threat?”

Patton pressed his hands against the dirt bed, needing some help to support himself. They were locked up in a cell? For that long? Who could they have upset so badly to be treated like that? Who was cruel enough to treat their parents like that?

Mitchell seemed ready to burst from frustration, so Patton quickly gave him a simplified version of Ellionn’s story.

“Okay, fine; so you’re a great person. Congratulations. Now where are our parents?”

“I don’t know,” said Ellionn, regretfully, “but I imagine that the same people who were looking for me are still looking for them, as well.”

“Do you know what they did? Why they were in there? Anything even remotely useful?”

“I am sorry, but I didn’t think to ask. I knew they didn’t deserve to be trapped there, so I was focused on getting them out. I do not know where they went after they left.” Ellionn looked as remorseful as they sounded.

Even as lost as he was, Patton couldn’t stand them being so upset. “No, it’s not your fault!! It’s not like you ever could have known this would happen! You already did a wonderful thing by letting them escape; there is no need for you to feel bad!”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree,” Mitchell sneered. Patton was worried about him. Sure, Mitchell had never been particularly… nice, or overly friendly. He didn’t always care as much as Patton did about other peoples’ feelings. But this? Being downright nasty to someone he’d never met before? This was new. And Patton didn’t like it. Before he could bring it up, though, Mitchell was speaking again.

“You said the people who were after you are also after them?”

“That is correct. By letting them go, I angered the same people they seem to have upset.”

“So, if I give you to these people, they’ll be able to bring me to whoever they work for?” Mitchell was pointedly not looking at Patton at this point.

Patton felt his blood run cold. “Mitchell. Kiddo, no; think about this for a second. Clearly, whoever these people are, they’re not nice. They locked our parents in a cell for years!! They would have killed them if Ellionn hadn’t let them out. What makes you think they won’t do the same to you?”

Mitchell rounded on him, clearly anticipating his argument.

“Just because you don’t care why our parents left us doesn’t mean I don’t. Your pal here broke a law. You’re just too stupid and naive to consider that maybe your family is more important than some felon. I think it’s perfectly reasonable to trade this thing for some information.” Patton recoiled, angry tears pricking at his eyes.

“There’s no way of knowing if they’ll even tell you the truth! What if they take you and Ellionn, and you still don’t learn anything? I can’t…” Patton trailed off, tears streaming. He wiped his eyes harshly, and started again.

“I won’t let you do this, kiddo.”

“For the millionth time, I’m older than you! You’re not a dad! And you’re too weak to even try to do anything to stop me. Keep it here while I go find whoever is searching for it.” With that, Mitchell turned and ran off, presumably to try and find the people who’d injured Ellionn.

Ellionn remained still, watching for Patton’s reaction. They seemed resigned, as if they were dreading his next move. Patton took a shaky breath, and picked up the items he’d dropped, seemingly unaware that he was still crying. When he did speak, it was low, emotionless.

“Can you run?”

Ellionn seemed startled. Whatever they had expected, this wasn’t it.

“Your friend seems determined to give me up. You intend to fight him on this? I was under the impression that you did not tend to disagree with him. Is he not your clan- your family?”

Patton screwed up his face against the fresh onslaught of tears. Ellionn waited patiently. When the feeling had passed, for the most part, he relaxed his face again. Still, though, he spoke in a quiet monotone.

“He is. He’s all I have left. But I can’t support this, and he knows that. He just doesn’t think I’ll do anything about it.”

“And what is it you intend to do?”

“Can you run,” Patton repeated, more urgently this time. There was no telling how long it would take Mitchell to find these people, but it was damn near certain he would find them. He was extremely adept at tracking, and a large, bleeding Dragonborn would have left a lot of traces to follow back. Ellionn searched his face for a moment. Whatever they found, it must have been enough. They nodded.

“I can run well enough. Your healing was extremely thorough.”

“Stand up then.” Patton grabbed his staff, and waited for Ellionn follow his instructions. Once they were standing, he dropped his Mold Earth, and let the dirt bed fall back to the ground.

“Wait here.” Patton headed into the house, and grabbed a handful of supplies. Water, some dried fruits, some bread. The shirt he’d made, although it looked like there wasn’t going to be time to make it pretty. The sharpened stick they used to cook sometimes. A blanket, in case it got cold. He bundled as much as he could in the blanket, and carried it out to Ellionn.

They’re still waiting for him outside, hovering uncomfortably. Patton handed them the shirt first, and waited for them to put it on before handing them the rest. 

“Take these. I still don’t know what you eat, but anything is better than nothing. Water is always good. And I know you’re a grown boy, but even a sharp stick might keep them from getting too close, you know? Or if you need to get more food.

“Lay on the blanket at night, not under it. You’ll feel warmer if you’re not on the cold ground. Go in a straight line for a bit, to get some distance, but after that shake it up a little. It’ll make you harder to find.”

Ellionn patiently endured Patton’s fussing for a while longer, then stepped away gently.

“I should go. Your friend may be back soon, and I would like to be gone by then.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I just feel awful for putting you in this position, and Mitchell is so mad…”

Patton rushed forward and squeezed them in a short, fierce hug. Before he could pull away, he felt Ellionn wrap their arms around him carefully, returning the hug. When he did step back, he was moments from crying again.

“Okay, kiddo. Take care. Be safe, make good choices... I’m proud of you.”

Ellionn gave a small wave, then quickly made their way into the trees, heading in the opposite direction Mitchell had. They were out of sight a minute later, but Patton remained outside, staring after them, for much longer.

Eventually, he shook himself out of it, and headed inside to get rid of their old, bloodied shirt. There could be no evidence that Ellionn had even existed.

---

When Mitchell got back, Patton was sitting inside, staring at the wall, and showed no sign of having moved in quite a while.

“Where did it go,” he yelled, barging in. “You had one job, you idiot! I know you’ve got an issue with violence or whatever, but you can literally control dirt! You could have just buried it for a while until I got back!”

“They’re not an it. They’re a living person, who did nothing to you, and risked their life to help our parents. I told you I wouldn’t let you turn them in,” Patton said, monotonously. He made no effort to face Mitchell, but continued staring straight ahead.

“Wait. Did you actually let them leave?”

“I didn’t let them leave. I helped them leave. What you’re trying to do is wrong; I don’t care what your reason is. It’s cruel and unnecessary. I told you I wouldn’t let you do it. Even if it wasn’t cruel, I am a child of Lliira. She’s the goddess of joy, yes, but she’s also the goddess of freedom and liberty. I help people. I do not leave them to be thrown in jail for helping other people.”

Mitchell picked up the closest thing to him, the empty water pitcher, and threw it against the wall. It shattered easily, shards covering the floor.

“Are you fucking kidding me? We’ve been wondering for fucking decades where our parents were, why they left, what they were doing, and when we finally get a chance, you get rid of our one bargaining chip?? And are you forgetting your stupid friend is a wanted felon?? They ran away from their job! They let wanted criminals go! It is our legal duty to turn them in!” 

Patton finally stood, eyes blazing.

“Those ‘wanted criminals’ were our parents! Do you care so much about finding out what they’re doing that you don’t care if it’s ‘rotting away?’ Are you so determined to find out where they are you’re willing for the answer to be a cell? Is that what your supposed ‘legal duty’ is worth to you?”

He’d never raised his voice before, and never to Mitchell, but he was screaming now.

“Yes, I let them go. I begged them to go. As a Joybringer and a kind person, I would rather let a hundred people go free than do something horrible just because it’s the law.”

Mitchell’s eyes went wide in shock, then narrowed.

“Are you so determined to do the ‘right thing’ that you’re willing to give up our only family?”

“You’re my family,” Patton cried, “at least you’re supposed to be! The least you could do is act like it! Why can’t you just accept that our parents did what they thought was right? They were willing to do something against the law to do the right thing, and you won’t even consider that maybe they had a point? What if they’re felons too? What if you find out they broke a thousand laws, just to do the right thing? Would you turn them in too? Even if it meant ruining their happiness? Their freedom?”

Mitchell stood and glared at him.

“You’re being idiotic; these things aren’t comparable. You’re so determined to be a good Joybringer for your little pacifist god? I’ll show you what I think of your ridiculous Lliira.”

He turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Patton, eyes blurry with tears for what felt like the hundredth time that night, shuffled his way to his room.

He collapsed onto his bed and sobbed- for Ellionn, for their parents, for Mitchell, for Lliira, for himself.

Tomorrow, he would get up, collect and dispose of the pieces of the now-broken pitcher Mitchell had thrown. Tomorrow, he would find Mitchell and make him see reason. They’d never seen eye-to-eye on anything that put goodness against the law before, but that hadn’t stopped them from being family, and Patton was sure they could reach an understanding.

Tomorrow, he’d deal with the aftermath. Tonight, though; tonight he cried.

---

When Patton went out to find Mitchell the next morning, he expected him to be at the temples. He did not expect to find him at Lliira’s temple.

He did not expect the temple to be nearly ashes, for it to have burned down overnight. The kindling and empty bottles of absinthe surrounding the entrance ruled out the possibility of an accident, but the abandoned bucket of water outside hinted at remorse.

He did not expect to find Mitchell within those ashes. What was left of him.

Mitchell, who he’d grown up with, and considered his only remaining family. Mitchell, who valued knowledge above all else. Mitchell, who, in a fit of rage, set fire to a place of worship and learning. Who, it appeared, upon being unable to undo the mistake, had decided to go down with the ship.

---

The elders gossiped for ages. How tragic, they said. What horrible thing could have lead him to make such a choice? What would lead him to leave his only supporter behind? They mourned, but they did not grieve. How could they? Patton had been their only link to Mitchell; he’d never interacted with them willingly.

Those they’d grown up with came by every day, at first, then less often, then gave up altogether, as they realized Patton was not going to answer. The pile of food and sympathy gifts outside remained untouched, the windows dark, the doors locked.

After a week, whispers started. They questioned whether Patton was alright. If he was still in the house. If he had followed Mitchell’s lead, as he always had. If they ought to go check, before it perhaps became so obvious that they’d never get the smell out of the house.

A small group went down together. The door was open, but the only things that had touched the food and presents were the animals. A quick look inside told them that the house had been abandoned, along with everything in it. Wherever he’d gone, he’d taken only his staff, the clothes on his back, and his mother’s necklace.

---

Ten years passed. Very little changed. Patton kept to the woods in that time, usually, only coming into the outskirts of town to get supplies. He sometimes casted Speak With Animals to make friends with whatever creatures he came across, if he was feeling particularly lonely.

He forced himself not to think of Mitchell, or Lliira. He no longer danced to her, or prayed. Even acknowledging her was a painful reminder. It got easier as the years went on, but there were nights when he couldn’t escape them.

One night, when his thoughts threatened to overwhelm him, he gave in and followed a loud, thumping bass to a nearby town. It didn’t seem to be very populated. There were a few stragglers loitering outside the bar, including an older man leaning against a tree who winked at him knowingly as he passed, but it looked like most everyone was inside having a nice, if chaotic, time.

He headed inside and made himself at home at one of the tables, making small talk. He’d probably leave soon and head back to the forest, but for now, he took advantage of the blaring music drowning out any negative thoughts.

[limitededitionsanderssidesblog]

Emile: What are you doing?

Elliot: *laying face first in the dirt* Taking some me time.

[i-love-my-smol-dark-son]

Heyyyy so if y'all are gonna start shipping Dr. Picani and Elliot please tag that shit bc I'm not digging it. Like live your lives, but give me the ability to ignore it, thanks

[honey-sunny-bee]

Hey so I just... would like to point out that if you are helping to make captions for videos, don't put stuff that isn't heard.

I know that these are old examples, and probably can't be changed anymore, but these are some of the Ultimate Do Nots:

Do Not: add extra commentary that is not heard. You can link time-stamps in the comments. We don't actually know that Dr. Picani is thinking that, Logicality is not canon, and again, no one says "yes you do" in the video.

(ID: a screenshot of Dr. Picani from Cartoon Therapy. He has pink hair, and is wearing glasses, a white button-down shirt, a blue tie, and a brown sweater. He is in front of a book shelf with various cartoon memorabilia on it. There is text saying, "Dr. Picani: Oh? *begins regretting life choices that got him to meet someone that hates Sokka*" End ID)

(ID: a screenshot of Logan from Sanders Sides. He is facing to the right of the screen, and is wearing a glasses, a deer-stalker hat, a scarf and a black coat. He is standing by a railing, and in front of a kitchen. There is text saying "[Logic]: Elementary my dear--Daddy...no.. (ship)" End ID)

(ID: screenshot of Roman from Sanders Sides from the video Am I Original. He is facing toward the camera, and is wearing a white tunic and red sash, with loose gold ornamentation on his left shoulder. He is standing in front of a television and a lamp. There is text saying, "what's popular with the kids these days. *yes you do*" end ID)

Do Not: make extraneous descriptions of sounds. Elliot did not break the sound barrier with this sigh, they just sighed heavily.

(ID: screenshot of Elliot from Cartoon Therapy. They are mostly out of frame, and in the background is a poster of Stitch, from Lilo and Stitch, a framed picture of the pirate from SpongeBob SquarePants and a Steven Universe poster. There is text reading "Elliot: *Sighs hard enough to break the sound barrier*" End ID)

Do Not: Describe what is happening on screen. We can see that Corbin looks confused. The point of captions is not to describe what you can see, it's to relay what can be heard.

(ID: a screenshot of Corbin from Cartoon Therapy. He is facing toward the camera, and is wearing glasses and a green shirt. There is text saying "[Corbin looks confused]" End ID)

Basically, if you don't hear it, don't put it in the captions.

Yes, these are fan-made captions, Thomas allows the community to create captions for his videos.

And if anyone who has more experience with either writing or needing captions wants to add, please do! I know I didn't cover everything, and I don't want to speak over anyone.

[john-the-bathroom-guy]

The “Unholy Quartet” Map; for fanders

A map to help you find blogs that is part of the (un)holy quartet easier,, I hope (I think some  people done this already, but I’m just blind. Sorry)

Not added? send an ask with an @ and you’re on the cursed list!

This list may be added from time to time so check up a few times to perhaps find new blogs to follow

Positivity Blogs;

Thomas: tspositive

Virgil: virgil-positivity

Logan: logan-positivity. happy-pics-of-logan-sanders

Janus: janus-positivity.

Remus: remus-positivity

Roman: roman-positivity. roman-sanders-protection-squad. roman-sanders-appreciation. roman-sanders-appreciation-blog

Patton: patton-positivity

Picani: picani-positivity. emile-positivity

Remy: remy-proship-positivity

Joan: joan-positivity

Orange: orange-is

Stan Blogs;

Virgil: virgil-stan-first. we-stan-virgil-sanders

Remus: remus-stan-first

Roman: roman-stan-first

Janus: janus-stan-first

Logan: logan-stan-first. logical-stan-first (logic stan)

Patton: patton-stan-frst

Remy: remy-stan-first

Emile: emile-stan-first 

Nico: nico-flores-stans-first. mr-nico-flores-stan-account

Akward Blogs;

Thomas (and friends): really-awkward-pics-of-thomas. really-awkwward-pics-of-thomas-friends. awkward-pics-of-thomas-shorts

Virgil: awkward-pics-of-virgil

Patton: peculiar-patton-pictures. awkwardpicturesofpatton

Logan: really-awkward-pics-of-logan. terriblepicturesoflogan

Remus: really-awkward-pics-of-remus

Roman: really-awkward-pics-of-roman

Janus: really-awkward-pics-of-janus

Picani: awkward-pics-of-therapy-crew. really-awkward-pics-of-emile

Remy: regretable-remy-pictures. really-awkward-pics-of-remy

Nico: really-awkward-pics-of-nico

Talyn: really-awkward.pics-of-talyn

Joan: really-awkward-pics-of-joan

Critics: awkward-pics-of-critic-and-crew.

John (bathroom dude): awkward-pics-of-john

Sanders shorts: awkward-sanders-shorts

Character Countdown Blogs;

Picani: picanicomehome

Remy: missingremysanders. remy-please-come-back

Thomas and Friends: when-did-we-see-thomas-again. joan-countdown. talyncomebackplease. thomas-turn-around-and-comeback. waitingforthejoan. whereisthomathysanders

Remus: remus-countdown.

Roman: readyforroman.

Patton: pattonimissyoupleasecomeback. pattoncountdown. searching-for-the-frog-man

Virgil: when-is-virgil-coming-back.

Logan: countdown-till-logan-breakdown. lookoutforlogan. 

Janus: janus-come-back-to-us. when-will-janus-be-caught

Sanders shorts: wheresmycritic. andy-come-home. isittimeforteal. when-will-dyad-come-home (is he out buying milk?). paying-the-pryce. 

Sanders Asides: nicoflorescomeback. the-nico-countdown. john-the-bathroom-guy. randomcanteenguycomehome. where-is-store-clerk. paigeintheboxoffice

Cartoon Therapy crew: where-is-elliot-come-home-please. waiting-for-sloane. missingdot. larry-come-back. kai-please-come-home. countingdowntilkai. dot-please-come-home

Orange: orange-side-please-appear. when-will-we-see-the-orange

Other series/characters: detectivesanderscountdown. where-is-the-dragonwitch. dragonwitchpleaseshowyourself. never-forget-ts-sacagawea. Sara the sp*d*r. days-since-linda. camdencomeback. wheresleslieodomjr

Extra Countdown blogs;

Cartoon therapy and crew: Picani’s Stitch.

All sides/none comfirm: Crofter’s Jam. Sides’ onesies. Crofters’ Jam 2. Onesies 2. Sides’ stims. Rap battle (Princey VS Teach). adultery-misuse-countdown. Side’s stims 2. Sides’ getting hugs. Sides’ prosecuted. Stretchy arms. Demus interaction. Cartoon sides

Glasses gay releted: Logan’s smile. Logan’s falsehood. Logan’s flashcard. Logan’s puns. Patton’s glasses

Creativtwins releted: Remus’ morningstar. Roman’s confidence. Roman’s sword. Roman’s star thingies. (Roman’s) Disney refrence. Roman cursing countdown. Roman sing. Remus’ sash

HIssing duo releted: Virgil’s curtain. Janus’ suit. Virgil’s jacket. Janus’ cane. Janus’ extra arms. Virgil’s purple eyeshadow. Shiny eyeshadow 2. Janus sing. Janus’ hat

Thomas and friends: Joan’s beanie. Thomas’ wall. Painting in Thomas’ livingroom. Thomas’ pimple. 

Asides/shorts: Steve the Stove. Food court trashcan. the-food-court-plant. where-is-plant. fake-plastic-plant. Mikey the Microwave. Microphones countdown

Extras: Hello Fresh App. Countdown until Countdown. Bill the Drill. Countdown until next EP. Countdown til sanders takeover. Gay jokes. Countdow until awkward.

[logan-is-noggin]

Cartoon therapy hc

So I came across Joans Elliot character from Cartoon therapy and I thought "oh yeah both Joan and talyn are in the series."

At first I thought, what if they met at picanis office and started dating...

But Elliots gay and kai has Lauren.

So even better, what if Elliot and Kai do get to know each other a bit during their brief meetings, and they end up hanging out outside of therapy and Elliot explains his situation about Mitchell. Elliot and Kai could have become really good friends and I just think that's sweet.

[delimeful]

I saw you tagged TS Elliott and at the end of Sheer Atrocity, and at first I was like “Is there a Cats reference in this I missed?” Then I remembered Elliott was a character from Cartoon Therapy and now I’m even more impressed that you dug that deep 👍🏼

felt a surge of absolute panic at the idea that someone might look up acclaimed author ts elliot and get my webseries g/t fanfiction but luckily elliott the character has 2 t’s and elliot the author has one 

[the-girl-with-the-glass-heart]

I didn’t wanna make any of the sides antagonists in my high school au so I made my own!

Meet Carson, Joanas and Alexzanderr!

Yeah I’m such a loser I took a couple random photos of Thomas and The Who broke this vase guy and made them full on characters because that’s just how my brain works.

Every high school needs a mean girl or boy trio and that’s where these three morons come in, they are here to cause minor problems for their own amusement and cliche plot drama.

Joanas

Joanas is mean and conniving jock who’s had it out for Virgil sinve the first day of kindergarten, he has no real reason to hate him other than pure classism or just thinking he’s a loser but that doesn’t stop him from basically embarresing him 24/7.

Wether it’s about Virgil getting braces, having an embarrassing part time job or even the fact that Virgil doesn’t have a mom he’s sure to make fun of him at every turn.

His whole family tree is pretty wack, his dad is homophobic boss Joan, his mom is mom Joan, his uncle is Elliot from cartoon therapy and his brother is little Ed.

Virgil always finds ways to fight back though, even if it’s just insulting Joanas over the fact his hair looks like a highlighter because he didn’t dye his roots and yet, still goes around saying he’s a natural blonde.

It’s worth noting that Joanas isn’t good at anything, he’s incredibly stupid, completely talentless and just all around the worst.

Carson

Carson is an emotionally vacant husk of a man who doesn’t like anything but dogs, fashion and Alex.

He has about as much emotional depth as a kiddie pool and barely likes anybody, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even like Joanas and only hangs out with him due to mutual hatred of Virgil’s friend group.

He particularly hates Roman and is in denial about him being more popular than him which often makes him and Joanas fight due to Joanas having this weird obsession with being like Roman.

Carson finds it hard to care about anything in particular, it’s not even that he can’t feel emotion he just doesn’t really want to.

He does get mild entertainment out of causing general mischief and it almost gets Carson to actually wanna smile... almost.

Alex

Alex is our last boy and he has some real problems about respecting others and infantalizing people, Alex seems to think that a good way to help poor people is to tout them around as “inspiritional” and “so sad!!”, he follows people around and films them with out consent and constantly tell them how inspirational they are even though they are just trying to kind their own business and get to class.

For the record, most of his vocabulary is literally just “so inspirational” over and over.

He makes a lot of aesthetic pictures and posts them all the time to insta, he’s got like 30k followers which is great for him but not so great for anyone who doesn’t wanna be seen on his page by 30k people.

He is basically a walking manic pixie dream girl and is by far the nicest person in the whole group, even then though, he still lacks any real morals when it comes to making content or respecting people and will happily film stuff for Joanas knowing fully well he’s most likely gonna use it as black mail.

Also me and my friend joke that he might possibly be some kind of demon or eldritch abomination due to the weird way he acts and it’s just sorta spiraled into him casually saying weird or cryptic things and nobody even saying anything.

Also me and my friend started joking about Carson and Alex dating so that’s a thing now.

Art by my wonderful friend @cacti-activist go follow them they are so sweet!!!

[bleepblopbloop56]

i wonder how elliot from cartoon therapy is doing

[today-only-happens-once]

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.

 ...

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