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two-am-outlines-only · 2 years

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When Our Hands Next Meet

Series summary: Soulmates are given memories of their past lives when their hands touch. For Virgil and Logan, each memory is happier than the last.

This series was created for @analogicalweek and made in collaboration with the lovely @birdsongisland! Please go look at the wonderful drawing that pairs with this work and support them with reblogs so their work can be seen!

Credit to birdsongisland for beta reading this as well, it came out a lot better because of them!

Chapter Summary: Virgil didn’t know what he had been expecting when he asked for a tutor to help with his studies, but it definitely wasn’t who could kick flip a skateboard without even looking down and also happened to be his soulmate.

Day 5 Prompt: Vocab Card/Skateboard

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1539

AO3 link

Chapter Five: We’ll Meet in the Middle

Virgil huffed as he cupped his chin aggressively in his hand, staring down the road to wait for his tutor to show up. Not to get the wrong idea- he was very grateful to the person who had agreed to help him with his vocabulary; he just...wasn’t the best with people. He was socially awkward and very obviously had a vague emo style- wavy purple hair with white streaks fell messily over shadowed eyes and cheeks that would burn in five minutes outside despite his tanned complexion. His black nail polish was chipping from the constant picking and he was never seen anywhere without his favorite purple hoodie hugging him like a portable blanket. But he was falling a bit behind in class because he couldn’t seem to remember the constant influx of new terminology thrown at him each week. Asking the professor about extra practice had landed him a phone number that he had agonized over for too many hours before finally biting the bullet and calling.

The voice on the other end alone was enough to make his stomach flip, light and lilting even when talking about something as boring as scheduling. Virgil knew it then and he was stewing over it now- he was absolutely done for. No one had that kind of voice without being kind and patient and while those were things he definitely needed if he was going to learn anything he was sure he’d get distracted anyway. Forming a squish from a voice- that had to be the worst joke played on him yet.

Looking up however nearly made him want to cry at the irony. That had to be him, the only person on campus at the moment standing tall on a skateboard while gripping a dark blue messenger bag. From what Virgil could see he had blue hair that was pulled to one side with the other shaved, immediately piquing Virgil’s interest with the unique look. He tried his hardest not to stare as he came closer and his jacket came into view; a leather one spiked at the shoulders and sporting pride flags at the chest. Virgil felt his own chest constrict as he stored that away for later, the pintrovert system coming in handy for what felt like the first time in his life.

Just as he was getting his crutches situated to stand up he noticed the other man riding straight for the sidewalk seemingly not paying attention to where he was going. Scrambling to his feet he lurched forward to yell out.

“Hey watch ou-” The warning died on his lips as his tutor executed a perfect lick flip onto the sidewalk, letting the momentum carry him a couple more feet before stopping and tucking the skateboard under his arms. Virgil was sure he looked like an absolute idiot as he approached him, trying his hardest not to gape while practically feeling his eyes sparkling while looking at the punk with wide eyes.

“Hello, I’m Logan. And you’re Virgil right? The person I’m supposed to help with his medical terms?” He waited for Virgil to nod before continuing. “Excellent. Is the library fine?”

Realizing He’d been silent too long, he managed to squeak out a “Yeah,” as he reached down to swing his bag over his shoulder. Logan started towards the doors with him, shuffling things around in his bag to pull out notecards and stuff the skateboard into it. How it fit Virgil had no idea but taking in the aesthetic he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it involved some sort of fae magic.

They settled down at the table and Logan looked over at him, making his heart once again skip a beat as he took in the beautiful shade of brown. Shaking his head slightly he tried to focus on what Logan was currently talking about while organizing several colored pens in front of them.

“-that way you’ll be able to separate the terms better and your brain will be better equipped to compartmentalize the terms you need to remember in half the time. Does that make sense?”

It didn’t. It really, really didn’t. He had a soulmate somewhere that he hadn’t found yet and most likely wouldn’t for a long time to come, and yet here he was trying desperately to hide a blush because this person was just- he was so cool. His voice and eyes were pretty and he was obviously smart if he had been the first person his teacher had recommended to tutor him…

“Are you feeling alright? You look flushed.” Hearing this Virgil snapped back to reality and gave a thumbs up, ducking his head while trying to resist the urge to slam it into the wood.

“Fine, yeah! Just you’re- it’s hot! Hot in the hoodie.” Praying he had saved that sentence quickly enough he dared to peak back at Logan through his bangs, who was just smiling slightly with an arm draped over the back of his chair.

“You can take that off then, if you want.” Logan pointed to the hoodie. “Since you’re hot.”

Virgil decided then, somehow managing to keep a straight face through his panic, that it was quite homophobic of the floor to not simply open and swallow him whole. Try as he might to calm himself he could still feel the remnants of the harsh flush in his cheeks as he saw Logan simply look at him with that smile, making him idly wonder if the sly bastard was really flirting with him or was actually just that oblivious.

Virgil sputtered as he wrapped the hoodie tighter around himself, shaking his head slightly. “Nah, I’m fine actually! You were saying about colors?”

“Just that color coding can help you study better. I’m here to give you tips as well so please pay attention.” Leaning forward again, Logan started explaining how to separate the different concepts and how to decide what was important and what wasn’t; honestly Virgil was genuinely surprised at how much he retained, forgetting his panic in favor of actually learning, for which he was very grateful. By the time an hour had passed he had a pretty good grasp on what he was meant to be learning and how to go about it. He stacked his much improved notecards together and shoved them in his pocket for later, shifting around in his seat to look at Logan properly.

“Thank you honestly, I feel a lot better about the class now.”

“It was no trouble, I’m grateful I was able to help. And if you’re in need of further assistance before next week, call me?” Logan smiled crookedly. “I use the library’s phone for tutor scheduling, this is for my actual phone..”

Virgil gaped at the slip of paper offered to him with a wink, fully cementing the idea that Logan had, in fact, been flirting with him and Virgil had been too infatuated with his style to actually notice. Purple nail polish caught his eye as his hand moved closer and he had the vague thought of that being his favorite color and how did he keep them from chipping? Before his thoughts could wonder further he was taking the paper and smiling, just aware enough of their fingers brushing as he remembered being with this person, his soulmate, time and time again. Every time was better than the last as their souls grew accustomed to one another and grew over eternity, strengthening their bond with every word exchanged.

Virgil looked at his soulmate's dazed expression, the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen gracing his lips and eyes watering with emotion at having found him again. So many words stuck in his throat as he struggled with the perfect thing to say, something that would capture how happy he was to finally be together again and how excited he was to explore this lifetime together. Something that would make Logan understand just how much he meant to him.

“I think this is the coolest form you’ve ever taken.” He blurted, immediately covering his mouth and cursing himself twice over.

His heart sank as Logan barked out a laugh, snorting into his own hand and taking a minute to compose himself before laying a gentle hand on his cheek.

“And I think this is the loveliest I’ve seen you.”

He laughed softly as Virgil went completely red, fingers twitching with indecision over whether to flap his hand or slap the idiot beside him. Deciding on a combination of both he frantically beat a hand against his shoulder while sleeping his other over his mouth, mumbling profanities under his breath. Whipping around as his hand was caught he couldn’t help but grin at Logan’s own brilliant smile, even if his face felt like he had dipped it in a vat of boiling water.

“It’s getting late, I could walk you home?”

“Yeah,” Virgil managed. “I’d like that.”

Walking home and still slightly wishing the floor had opened up beneath him, he couldn’t help but feel lucky that he had found Logan so soon. They had an eternity to catch up on and if it had to start with fixing his bad study habits, he supposed he couldn’t complain.

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#oren writes #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #analogicalweek #analogical week 2021 #virgil sanders #sanders sides virgil #logan sanders #sanders sides logan #logan x virgil #virgil sanders x logan sanders #analogical #sanders sides analogical

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transfemlogan · 1 year

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Sanders Sides events in 2023! Last updated: September 17th, 2023

2022 event list

This list complies every event in 2023 (on Tumblr), such as: character days, ship weeks, gift exchanges, "big bangs", and ETC. If you have an event this year, let me know so I can add it to the list!

I will not be adding the sides' birthdays to this list (unless begged /j), because they are in my last list and... they don't change.

(These are added as the people hosting the event state that they are doing it this year)

MISC

@tss-storytime - Sanders Sides Big Bang - Schedule

@tsspromptmonth - Spring Cleaning Event: February 10 - end of April Sign ups & Schedule

@transsidesweek - Transgender Sides Week: september 11th - 17th

@acesidesweek - Asexual Sides Week: june 5th - 11th (prompts)

@aro-sides-week - Aromantic Sides Week: august 20th - 26th (prompts)

@briandthemoon - Thomas Sanders Birthday Bash: DEADLINE MARCH 24TH (information)

@tss-october-ghostwriters - Halloween Exchange (FAQ) (SIGN UPS - july 36th - september 30th)

@autisticsidesweek - Autistic Sides Week: December 4th - 10th

SHIP EVENTS

@loginceweek2023 - Logince Week: January 23rd - 29th (prompts)

@roceit2023 - Roceit Week: April 6-13 (prompts)*

@dukexietyweek - Dukexiety Week: June 18th - 25th (prompts)

@loceitweek - Loceit Week: June 27th - July 3rd (prompts)

@anaroceitweek - Anaroceit Week: July 10th - July 16th (prompts)

@royalityweek - Royality Week: July 31st - August 6th

@prinxietyweek - Prinxiety Week: October 2nd - October 8th (prompts)

@intrualityweek - Intruality Week: October 22nd - 28th

@intrulogicalweek - Intrulogical Week: October 29th - November 4th (prompts)

@tss-anxceit-week - Anxceit Week: November 12 - 19

@moxiety-week - Moxiety Week: December 18th - 24th

*2023 roceit week is hosted by someone different than last years! Check out last years roceit week at @roceitweek

ROLESLAYING WITH ROMAN

@roleslayingweek2023 - Roleslaying Week: July 24th - 30th

Events NOT Happening

Moceit Week (@moceit-appreciation-week) is Not coming back this year, there hasn't been an Intruality week since 2021 (@intrualityweek2021), and there has never been a Logicality week ever! Analogical Week (@analogicalweek) is most likely not coming back this year (or ever), as the creator left the fandom.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #prinxiety #logicality #moceit #demus #dukeceit #analogical #whats another popular ship #orange side

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sanders-sides-events · 1 year

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Sanders Sides events 2023 masterpost

Hello and welcome to the Sanders Sides events blog!! Posts relating to all events in the fandom will be reblogged here, including events about Thomas Sanders' content that isn't related to Sanders Sides (e.g. Roleslaying, Cartoon Therapy).

If you're running an event and want your posts to be reblogged here, simply send an ask or tag this blog!

Blog navigation

All posts will be tagged with the tag of the event they relate to.

Schedules are tagged as #schedules!

Asks are tagged as #asks!

Events in 2023:

Note: Schedules for fandom events are linked under the cut. This is just the masterpost for this blog.

Event weeks

Logince Week @loginceweek2023

22nd January - 28th January | Prompts

Roceit week @roceit2023

6th April - 13th April | Prompts

Sanders Sides A-spec Week @sanders-sides-a-spec-week

24th May - 30th May | Prompts

Analoroceit Week (hosted by @loganisanobody)

28th May - 3rd June | Prompts

Ace Sides Week @acesidesweek

5th June - 11th June | Prompts

Dukexiety Week @dukexietyweek

18th June - 25th June | Prompts

Loceit Week @loceitweek

26th June- 2nd July | Prompts

Anaroceit week @anaroceitweek

10th July - 16th July | Prompts

Roleslaying Week @roleslayingweek2023

24th July - 30th July | Prompts

Royality Week @royalityweek

31st July - 6th August | Prompts

Aro Sides Week @aro-sides-week

20th August - 26th August | Prompts

Trans Sides Week @transsidesweek

11th September - 17th September | Prompts

Prinxiety Week @prinxietyweek

2nd October - 8th October | Prompts

Intruality Week @intrualityweek

22nd October - 28th October | Prompts

Intrulogical Week @intrulogicalweek

29th October - 4th November | Prompts

Anxceit Week @tss-anxceit-week

12th November - 19th November | Prompts

Roleslaying trans week @rswr-trans-week2023

20th November - 26th November | Prompts

Autistic Sides Week @autisticsidesweek

4th December - 10th December | Prompts

Big bangs & exchanges

Storytime - Sanders Sides Big Bang @tss-storytime

February - August | Schedule

Sanders Sides Big Bang @sandersidesbigbang

May - September

Sanders Sides Spring Cleaning Event @tsspromptmonth

February - April | Schedule

Halloween Horror Fest @halloweenhorrorfest

18+ event | April - November

Tss October Ghostwriters @tss-october-ghostwriters

August - October | Schedule

Sanders Sides Holiday Gift Exchange @sanderssidesgiftxchange

September - December | Schedule

Thomas Sanders Reverse Bang @xts-reverse-bangx

June 2023 - July 2024 | Schedule

Other events/projects

Thomas Birthday Bash Book | Submission deadline 24th March

(Events will be added to this list as they're added to the blog. If I've missed an event, or got any dates wrong, please let me know!)

Cancelled events

@intruality-week (the new intruality week blog is @intrualityweek )

@anxceit-week-23 (the new anxceit week blog is @tss-anxceit-week

Events from previous years

Here are events that have been run in the fandom, in case anyone wants to look back at them or check for updates. Some of these might return in 2023, so keep an eye out!

@analogicalweek

@anxceitweek21

@anxceit-week-2022

@dukeceitweek

@intrualityweek2021

@lamp-appreciation-week

@moceit-appreciation-week

@moxiety-week

@pintrovertsweek2022

@prinxiety-week-2022

@roceitweek

@sandersidesbigbang

@sanderssidesgiftxchange

@sanders-spring

@ts-storytime Event moved to @/tss-storytime

Schedules

Here are some useful schedules made by other fanders!!

The 2023 events list and 2022 events list created by @transfemlogan

Logan's master schedule created by @edupunkn00b

Events blogs

If you want more updates on events in the fandom, check out @tsseventhub They also have an Instagram!

#sanders sides #masterpost #past events + schedules and useful blogs r under the cut!#listing the events seems a bit redundant bc ive linked the schedules too. its mostly just for me organising the blog #i'll add the tag navigation if i ever figure out how that works #sanders sides events

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logically-asexual · 2 years

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old trope, rushed, kinda ugly, but i finished it on time! so i’m :)

@analogicalweek Day 1: Fear/Warmth

#analogical #analogicalweek2022 #analogicalweek #logan sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #analogical week 2022

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becca-becky · 3 years

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[Image ID: image 1: a gif of Virgil saying “OK, Pocket Protector.” / image 2: a gif of Logan saying “Virge, hurry!” / image 3: a gif of puppet Virgil saying “Geez, L, that was pretty rough.” /End ID]

analogical week day 7: free day

analogical + nicknames

@analogicalweek

#sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #analogical #sanders sides edit #analogicalweek #becca edited some shit

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okthatsbad · 3 years

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Day 2: Song/ Stars

“Heavy with hoping

that you know it

that you feel the way I do…”

@analogicalweek

#analogicalweek #analogical #cut to me going apeshit over Madeon like it's 2017

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glass-undrawing · 3 years

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@analogicalweek day 1: debate! rival presentation making is the purest form of debate

#analogicalweek #sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #apr 2021 #2021 #tss #ts virgil #ts logan #i was gonna finish this yesterday but then i was #asleep lol #analogical

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lovelylogans · 2 years

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like a second heart

ao3 | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: mentions of death (not of any sides), an employee crushing on his boss, please let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairings: logan/virgil

word count: 3,748

notes: this is for @analogicalweek and today’s prompt was crushes/confession. this is connected to one of my previous analogical week fics (as all of my analogical week fics this year will be) called “like a second heart,” which, if i am fully honest, is the verse i’ve had the most ideas about adding onto, so i hope you enjoy it! here are some notes on worldbuilding. more coming eventually???

⁂

Virgil is sure he looks quite the idiot, gaping skyward with his cap in his hands and one hand shielding his eyes from the sun. As a matter of fact, he knows he looks an idiot, and that he is quite possibly the most idiotic-looking idiot to ever set foot at the Manor Grantham, but no one is here in the courtyard to see it and so Virgil is free to gawk as he likes.

It's just—it's so huge.

The Domicile Dockery had been nothing to sneeze at, and the Saint Jerome's Orphanage for Boys had been... well, to perfectly honest, so terribly dreary that its only real worth was being sneezed at, but the Manor Grantham (was there a more proper name for this absolute behemoth that Virgil should know, he wonders anxiously) is truly in another world entirely.

Manor was hardly the appropriate word—surely this must be a castle, enough to hold half a village, faced in fine, tan stone—Virgil hasn't any idea what kind but it must surely be so expensive it would make him weep—with a great many windows dotting them, grand embellishments at each eave, with so many spires at the roof that Virgil would surely lose count even if he wasn't blinded by the noon sun.

Even from the servant's entrance, it's a sight to behold.

Virgil can hear the door creak—even the servant's courtyard door is ornate—and Virgil hastily jams his cap back on his head, trying his level best to keep from mussing his hair too much.

A tall man in a livery—a footman, then, someone that tall had to be—arches an eyebrow at him.

"Anthony?"

"Yes, that's me," Virgil says. "Virgil Anthony," he adds, in case they're expecting an Anthony Smith or Anthony Carson or—

Well, another Anthony, anyway.

"Albert Fellows," he says, in a near-musical Scottish accent. "Mr. Braithwaite and Mrs. Cassidy are ready for you. I'll take you to them."

Virgil sweeps off his cap when they walk in the door and come face-to-face with two other people, as Sister Leonella had always said that was proper manners and, if these people are anything like the Dockerys, then they certainly care very much about proper manners, but there's no place to hang it. He just holds it in a hand, gripping it tightly, wiping his left hand as subtly as he can on his pants to rid it of sweat.

The two other people step slightly closer; a man, shorter than Fellows, portly and officious-looking, with every scant gray hair upon his head and every gray hair in his truly impressive mustache waxed painstakingly into place, frowning at Virgil as if he's an out-of-place blade of grass, and a woman, shorter still, plump and pleasantly smiling, with gray shooting through her black, pin-straight hair.

"Virgil Anthony?" The man who must be Mr. Braithwaite says.

"Yes, sir, that's me," Virgil says, and clears his throat—he'd said it rather quietly.

"How delightful to meet you, Mr. Anthony," and Virgil nearly starts—Mrs. Cassidy has the same accent as he does.

An Essex woman, then. Some little piece of home here helps settle his racing heart a little.

A very scant little.

"Through here, I should think," Mr. Braithwaite says, opening a door for Mrs. Cassidy.

It's an office that manages to fit three comfortably—Virgil thinks of Mr. Fincher's office, back in the Domicile Dockery, barely enough to fit two people, and he'd been headbutler there the same as Mr. Braithwaite is here. It seems everything in his house is huge, to match its outside.

Virgil sits after Mr. Braithwaite and Mrs. Cassidy do—it seems the safest and most manners-like option.

"Now, Mr. Anthony," Mr. Braithwaite says, flicking open an envelope. "Trained originally as a tailor and then as a valet, sponsored by the Lady Dockery. Why did Lady Doris sponsor you, Mr. Anthony?"

Because Lady Doris Dockery is a raging bitch who wanted to lord over one of the little orphans who she thinks would have been wicked urchins if she did not keep her sainted eye on them for even a bare moment, and that those same orphans should grovel at her feet for her donations, for as long as she might live, Virgil thinks, but holds his tongue.

"The Lady Dockery is a very charitable woman," Virgil says instead.

Mrs. Cassidy sniffs—disdainfully, Virgil thinks, but Virgil might be reading too much into it?

"Lady Dockery is an acquaintance of her ladyship, Mr. Braithwaite, you remember—she came to the house two weeks ago for the Ladies' poor relief luncheon, that's when she delivered the recommendation to his lordship in the first place," Mrs. Cassidy says, and ah, that explains it. No one had to spend more than ten minutes with Doris Dockery to know she was a self-important woman who loved nothing more than to look down her nose at everyone else.

Mr. Braithwaite seems to ignore this, however, and continues stodgily with his list of questions.

"You come very highly recommended by the Baronet and Lady Dockery, very highly recommended indeed—I do wonder why you aren't still working there."

Virgil, unable to help himself, darts a disbelieving glance to Mrs. Cassidy, as if to say why on earth does he think?

Mrs. Cassidy quirks a brow, as if to maybe say, yes, I know, he's quite a pompous handful, serves him right for never listening to me.

"...the Baronet Dockery died last month, sir," Virgil says in a carefully even voice.

Yes, and Mrs. Cassidy's lips definitely twitch with near-laughter, and she digs around in her apron pocket for a handkerchief to cover her mouth.

"And so the Dockerys had no more need for a valet, may the Baronet rest in peace," he adds.

Baronet Dockery had been all right, really, much better than his nasty little wife—Virgil had been somewhat sad he'd died, even though he'd been very old and sickly, and it rightfully shouldn't have been a shock.

"No more need?" Mr. Braithwaite says. "The Dockerys have no children?"

"Three daughters and a son, the daughters all grown with households of their own—one in Wiltshire, one in Painswick, and one in Devon—and their son serving abroad in the King's army," Virgil rattles off dutifully. "The Lady—well, Dowager Dockery now—therefore has no more need for a valet."

"Hmph," Mr. Braithwaite says, and pages through Virgil's admittedly meager references. All glowing, though only one from an employer proper. Virgil was many things, but he was a damn good valet and a trained tailor to boot.

"Your references say you're a fine embroiderer," Mrs. Cassidy prompts Virgil.

"Oh—yes, ma'am," Virgil says. He pulls out a clean handkerchief and offers it to her for inspection—when the Baronet had been on bedrest and Virgil left to his devices, unable to help the Baronet at all, he'd put lavenders all along the edge, along with his initials in one corner.

"Very fine!" She exclaims, bringing it close to her eyes, running her fingers over the flowers. "Very fine indeed, isn't it, Mr. Braithwaite?"

"Hmph," Mr. Braithwaite repeats, paging through Virgil's references.

"Lord Roman should like that," Mrs. Cassidy tells him. "He's trying to improve his embroidery, especially his florals, if you could find time in the day to tutor him."

Lord Roman—one of the sons, Virgil would guess. Lady Dockery had said there were three, he thinks? Maybe two? No daughters, he knows that much, Lady Doris had clucked disapprovingly about the lack of daughter to marry to her own son.

"With his lordship's permission, of course I could," Virgil said.

Mr. Braithwaite looks pleased by Virgil's insistence upon proper procedure. At least, Virgil assumes he looks pleased; he isn't as nearly as easy to read as Mrs. Cassidy.

"I can knit and crochet, in addition to the sewing and embroidery," Virgil adds.

"Socks?"

"If you should like to see my work again, I'd have to take off my boots," he tells her, and she titters.

"No, no, that shouldn't be necessary," Mr. Braithwaite says, looking alarmed at the concept of a stinky socked foot in his sacrosanct office.

"We tend to be in constant dire need of socks, here," Mrs. Cassidy tells him, patting his hand. "Your skills shall surely be a great help."

Shall surely, Virgil's brain seizes. Shall surely, did that mean—?

"Well, Mr. Anthony," Mr. Braithwaite says, at last setting aside the sheaf of his references.

Virgil's heart sets a wild pace, for an entirely new reason.

"Your references are impeccable, your manners are," he casts an eye over Virgil, "fine enough, and to be perfectly frank, Lord Julian has insisted on utmost haste and so we are in dire need of a valet for Lord Logan, who is newly graduated from university."

For Lord Logan? But he'd thought—oh, but what did it matter who he'd valet for, it was a job, a job, a job away from Essex and a job away from the orphanage and a job away from Doris Dockery—

"Lord Logan is the heir presumptive and as such needs to be accustomed to the finer details of the lordship," Mrs. Cassidy explains, "including a valet. Lord Julian is of the opinion that Lord Logan should not be thrust into the entirety of the lordship upon his death, Lord willing that be many years from now."

What is Virgil meant to say to that?

"Very wise of his lordship," he manages.

A valet for the heir. They were surely richer than God, Virgil thought; he'd only ever heard of valets and ladies' maids for the heirs among princes and princesses, and perhaps the dukes and duchesses who were the relatives of those princes and princesses.

"We'll introduce you to the family after tea, then," Mr. Braithwaite says, and before Virgil can say anything, he continues briskly, "you can use a spare livery, you're of a size with Copley. You'll officially start in the morning. Now, if you'll away to tea with Mrs. Cassidy and Mrs. Cochrane—the chef—they'll inform you of salary and living conditions and the like. Good day."

And Mrs. Cassidy leads Virgil to the kitchen, because Virgil is in too much of a daze to realize it's just across the hall.

⁂

The daze is only barely helped by watching Mrs. Cassidy and Mrs. Cochrane—a brusque woman who spoke exactly what was on her mind, rather refreshing after the interview with Mr. Braithwaite—cluck over each other, and over him, and with a strong tea and Mrs. Cochrane's truly exceptional biscuits and cream.

They are interrupted by beautiful brown tabby cat with a shiny coat licks at its mouth, savoring the bit of cream he'd managed to snatch. He has a pretty blue ribbon tied loosely around his neck.

"Oh, Thales, get down—"

"That's not Thales, miss." A maid says, glancing over from where she's vigorously mixing together some kind of batter.

"Well which one is it, then?"

"Aristarchus, I should think," the maid says. "He explores more than the others. Thales stays in the library mostly."

What kind of names were Thales and Aristarchus for cats? Virgil had always named the skinny mean cats that lingered around the orphanage for scraps things like Spots and Stripes. And then when a nun got fond of one, she'd usually name them for saints, much like Virgil himself, now he comes to think of it.

"How many cats are there?" Virgil says, giving Aristarchus a good scratch under the chin anyways. The cat purrs and deigns to lean into the scratch, so Virgil's fingers are rubbing against his cheek.

"Oh, how should I know," grumbles Mrs. Cochrane.

"A great many," Mrs. Cassidy says. "And good little mousers they are, too, what with the hunting dogs sleeping in the stables most nights. But cats of Lord Logan's—"

She pauses to count on her fingers, murmuring names to herself—"Let's see... Thales, Aristarchus, Mirabai, Parmenides... yes, four so far, and the rumor is he's getting another as a gift as soon as an esteemed guest comes to visit, so that number ought to change. He's fond of cats, Lord Logan is."

Fond of cats. Well, Virgil could always bring that up if conversation was needed, it was something they had in common.

"Now shoo, go on," Mrs. Cochrane says, and so Aristarchus jumps into Virgil's lap—Virgil smiles as Aristarchus rubs his face against Virgil's stomach, then winces a bit as the claws dig in—and uses Virgil as a springboard to trot off into the hall.

"Right then, Anthony," Mrs. Cochrane says briskly. "Back to business."

Virgil takes a fortifying gulp of tea.

And then his daze is then renewed in even greater fervor when Mrs. Cassidy casually mentions his salary will be at least double if not triple (Virgil's hopeless with numbers and Mrs. Cassidy had said something about holiday bonsues, an entirely foreign concept) what it was at the Dockerys.

⁂

His feet pinch, the livery's shirt and coat are both too short on him because he's broader in the shoulder and the foot than this Copley, and he's already got the names of the Earl's impressively large household staff hopelessly mixed around; at the Dockerys, it had only ever been him, Mr. Fincher, the ladies' maid Mrs. Howes, and the chef Dowlings.

Here—three footmen, Lord Julian's valet Mr. Walsh, Lady Priscilla's ladies' maid Mrs. O'Coyle, the head housemaid Miss Hannah Brennan and Mrs. Cassidy, who was the head housekeeper—why did they need both, Virgil wondered cluelessly, but then, it was an impressively large house and probably needed a great many people to keep it clean—the seemingly innumerable maids and the kitchen's staff, all of whom had been tittering and giggling as Mrs. Cochrane lectured them about how dinner was to be prepared that night, and of course even more not in the room like the chauffer, the gardener, the hostler, the kennel master, because apparently Lord Julian and the younger sons were very fond of their hunting dogs—and Virgil's head was swimming with all of it already.

As it stands, when Mr. Braithwaite is leading him through the servant's hallways, he keeps his eyes on his feet and tries his very best to remember directions as this house is so hopelessly large and Virgil is so hopelessly overwhelmed. One right, a left, two more rights, straight on, another left...

Tries, but fails, because Mr. Braithwaite is keeping on an endless stream of information of the family, which Virgil really should know, but he isn't sure if it should come at the sacrifice of knowing the layout of the house.

"...Lord Julian and Lady Priscilla have been married twenty-five years this spring, and Lord Logan is twenty-one in the fall—"

"He's twenty?" Virgil says, interest piqued. "I thought you said he just graduated university?"

"He has," Mr. Braithwaite, and was that near-paternal pride in his voice. "Lord Logan has always been very studious, and he advanced very easily ahead of his peers. He inherited his intelligence from his father."

Then he and Lord Logan were about the same age, give or take a few months. He hadn't very well been able to celebrate his last birthday, and hadn't really been in the mood to, what with his employer on death's door. How odd it would be to serve a peer rather than someone decades his senior.

"—Lords Roman and Remus, they're the twins—thank heavens Lord Remus has gotten it into his head to grow a mustache, it was quite impossible to differentiate between them when they were children—are turning eighteen this summer, Lord Roman some minutes older than Lord Remus, I can't remember the exact number but I'm sure you shall hear of it soon enough."

Lords Logan his employer, then Roman who liked embroidery, then Remus with the mustache, yes, Virgil would be able to remember that.

"A great many celebrations this year, all we should be thankful for," Mr. Braithwaite says briskly. “Much to be thankful for indeed."

Virgil isn't sure if he necessarily should act thankful for a family he hasn't met and has just hired him today, so instead he asks a question that people like Fincher had always seemed to like.

"How long have you served here, Mr. Braithwaite?"

Yes, that's the right question. Mr. Braithwaite actually smiles.

"Thirty years in the summer."

"Heavens," Virgil says, startled; that's quite a long time to stay with a family. The longest he'd ever heard was, in fact, from Fincher, and he'd been with the Dockerys ten years.

"Indeed. I came here when I was a lad—not much older than you, I suppose. I was a stableman then. Lord Julian's father Marmaduke—" Virgil stifles a snicker by biting his tongue, "—was quite an accomplished rider, very fond of his horses in the way that Lord Julian is fond of his dogs, and Lord Logan fond of his cats. Then I became a footman, then underbutler, and now head butler for fifteen years. Hard work and loyalty, young man. This family greatly rewards loyalty. You would do well to remember that."

Virgil takes a moment to ruminate on that—literally, just a moment, as Mr. Braithwaite comes to a stop at a well-disguised door.

"Ah, here we are."

And then Virgil remembers he is about to be introduced to the family, and his heart, already going quickly from the brisk pace that Mr. Braithwaite had set, starts pounding in his ears.

Mr. Braithwaite steps through.

Virgil takes a deep breath, wipes his sweaty hands on his borrowed pants, and enters the grand study.

And grand it is. Each towering wall is lined with bookshelves, all stuffed to the brim with books and encyclopedias, with Persian rugs of deep greens line the floor. He can just see two adolescent-looking dogs are tussling with each other over on the grand rug, yipping—a pair of the famed hunting dogs, Virgil's sure of it—with a dog whose black face has gone frosty with gray watching the pair warily.

"Your Mars is much too poorly trained, isn't he, darling Orpheus?" someone with a musical, deep voice says, clicking his fingers for emphasis; the dog that had been pinned obligingly squirms loose and trots out of Virgil's viewpoint. "There, there, it's not your fault my brother and his hound are brutes."

"You must train that dog properly, Remus, otherwise he won't be fit for the hunt when—Ah, Braithwaite," a voice says, different and still deep, still a voice that would belong on the stage in another life.

"The new valet for your inspection, my lord," Braithwaite says, and beckons Virgil through.

And the family—just as grand—are situated around the room.

Standing is a polished man in a fine suit, adjusting his spectacles; from his age, this must be Lord Julian, the current Earl Grantham. On the couch beside him the only woman in a room, in a gown of violet, a brown-haired woman who had been holding up a newspaper for the Earl's inspection, who must be the Lady Priscilla.

Sprawled together on the couches, one petting their dog comfortingly, the other praising theirs, could be no one but the twins; Virgil had never seen two men look so alike, if one looked past the mustache and the smug grin underneath it. And then—

Virgil's mouth goes dry at the sight of the last man in the room.

He's the most handsome man Virgil has ever seen.

His hair is an incredibly soft-looking brown, slicked into place with only a small amount of product, intelligent brown eyes that are only complimented by his spectacles, a perfect cupid's bow of a mouth, slender of frame yet with a softness around his stomach and hips, his legs seem to go on forever and yet he's perhaps only a half-head taller than Virgil, proportioned so well in contrast to Virgil's constant lankiness, and what a delightful height he is, for everything about him seems so delightfully perfect...

Please be a footman so I can attempt a torrid affair with you, please be a footman so I can attempt a torrid affair with you—

Even as he's thinking it, Virgil knows there's no way. The finery of his clothes, his presence amongst the rest of the family, the way he's casually in the middle of a book that must surely be from this library, the way he's looking Virgil up and down with a scholarly sort of interest, as if evaluating him, this must be—

"Lord Logan," Braithwaite says. "This is Virgil Anthony, your new valet."

Fuck.

"Mr. Anthony," Lord Logan says, in a voice just as pleasant as the rest of his family's, and yet his seems the best, the most striking, the most pull yourself together Virgil that is your boss, "A pleasure."

Virgil bows at the waist the way Sister Leonella had always insisted, since bobbing just the head made one look like a chicken, remembering himself just in time.

"My lord," he says, his brain saying yes, yes, please be mine, please be mine to hold, to kiss, to—

Shut up, he hisses to himself, and straightens back up from his bow.

Now he understands why the Sisters had railed against lust so; he'd never understood before. He can only hope that Lord Logan has perhaps a repugnant personality, to offset his stately looks, and perhaps knock Virgil into some kind of sense so that he'll stop being such a blithering idiot, even if it is just within his own mind.

The rest of the family murmur greetings that Virgil manages to tear his eyes away from Lord Logan to return, in suitably conscientious fashion.

Lord Julian tells Braithwaite of some business with the post office if he could get one of the footmen to take care of, if he pleases, and then Braithwaite is leading him out of the room again, and back down the servant's hall, and then the kitchen, and the quarters that are now his.

And then it hits Virgil as he sits on the bed that is now his, in a room that is modest and yet nonetheless much larger than his room at the Dockerys, which had been barely more than a closet, trying his very best to remember everything he’s been told but his mind circling back to Lord Logan, Lord Logan with his fine features and fine hair and fine face and fine body...

A realization makes him sit bolt upright.

It's going to be his job to dress and undress Lord Logan.

Which means seeing Lord Logan in states of dress and undress. Touching Lord Logan in states of dress and undress.

Fuck indeed.

#my post #text #my fic #my fanfic #sanders sides #analogicalweek #analogical week #analogical #virgil sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #analogical week 2022 #analogicalweek2022

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two-am-outlines-only · 2 years

Text

When Our Hands Next Meet

Series summary: Soulmates are given memories of their past lives when their hands touch. For Virgil and Logan, each memory is happier than the last.

This series was created for @analogicalweek and made in collaboration with the lovely @birdsongisland! Please go look at their beautifully detailed piece they made for this work and support them with reblogs so it can be seen!

Credit to birdsongisland for beta reading this and everything else this past week! One last thank you as this wouldn’t have been as polished without you ^-^

Summary: In a nostalgic museum of their own creation, Virgil feels as content as he ever has living out lifetime after lifetime with Logan.

Day 7 Prompt: Free Day

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1787

AO3 link

Chapter Seven: I Remember

“Which one did you like chickens in?”

Logan poked his head out of the kitchen window while being sure to hold the dish he was drying well away from the sill. “Chickens?”

“You liked chickens in one of our lives for some reason.” Virgil didn’t look up as his tongue poked out of his mouth in concentration- something that never failed to make Logan smile since according to him Virgil did that in every life. Blowing away the dust from the mistake he had sanded away he grabbed up the carving tool and started again, holding the figurine a little too close to his face to technically be safe but he was far past the point of caring. He held his breath as he dragged a smooth line across the dark stained surface. It was perfect. All he needed to do was drag it the other way and-

Groaning in frustration he threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best not to cry over something so stupid. It was a chicken- and a wooden one at that- no more deserving of tears than a child’s block tower being knocked over. But as the slight tremor in his hands continued to betray him as the years went by he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of frustration. There were so many things he wanted to do and create and as their lives went by it became harder and harder to keep up with it all; thankfully he was stubborn enough that it never kept him from trying.

Opening his eyes as a cool breeze swept past him he couldn’t help but smile at the early morning sky, full of the deep purples and blues that they had both favored since their souls first formed. Cool and calm and deep the colors blended together with a soft brilliance he admired every time he reached for the soulbond he and Logan shared. He hardly knew how to describe the way Logan filled his life to the brim with a happiness that made him feel safely rooted to the ground and flung him headlong into the clouds at the same time. A kind of breaking open of the chest while still feeling as if everything was securely nestled in their proper places. He supposed the way the colors swirled endlessly between the stars- brilliant galaxies forming and reshaping in picturesque moments that would be gone in an instant- maybe that came pretty close.

Grinning to himself he carefully gathered up his tools and his current work in progress, nudging the door open with his foot and stepping into the warm comfort of the living room. They had spent an entire lifetime making it their own, as they so often did when they finally found each other again. Often there wasn’t a day wasted when they became whole again to pick up right where they had left off in their previous life, collecting an eternity’s worth of memorabilia that no one could ever hope to understand but them. Setting down his armload on a side table he eased himself into a rocking chair situated by the window, the gentle movements a pleasant stim as he listened to Logan move around in the kitchen.

He leaned his head back slowly to rest on the back of the chair, staring up at the dark stained bookshelves overflowing with all manor of things they had made or collected in the decades they had been together. The old but thankfully sturdy wood bowed under the weight of books either so old they were bound with leather and cracked at the seams or so new the pages were still visibly crisp from the printing press. There was one in particular bound tightly in soft brown leather with a bright green gem stuck in the center of it that neither of them had ever opened but had found and added to their collection nonetheless. Whatever it was, it fit the aesthetic so neither of them could complain.

Tilting his head to the side he watched as Logan bustled around the kitchen getting their morning dose of coffee set up, refracted light from various forms of open geodes glittering around him and making his glow in the room. They had become veritable hoarders in this lifetime, though Virgil suspected they always did, collecting everything from crystals that matched their colors perfectly to pond skipping rocks that had felt too perfect in their hands to ever give up to the water. Their vast collection of seashells littered nearly every surface as well with a suncatcher made from them hanging in the large window overlooking their yard. He nearly laughed as he caught sight of it, a wooden flute he had carved hanging with it as well reminiscent of Logan’s hippie phase he had yet to let him live down. He had justified it by saying it was just another thing to remember their time together with, but mostly he just loved the playful eye roll he would get every time Logn caught sight of it.

Of course the better caving he had made for him was on the shelf behind him, nearly life size wooden ice skates that Virgil had made with as much care poured over them as he could muster. He remembered making and presenting them to his best friend after one of his competitions- they’re fingers brushing and a thousand and one memories cementing their souls together once again. Since then their house had slowly filled with blocks of wood molded to the memories they gained of an eternity spent together. Several small blocks were shoved in the spaces they could fit, depicting all the constellations Logan had told him about when they would go out in a field or lay on the roof of one of their houses and talk the night away. There were so many animal figurines they could likely make a replica of a zoo- if of course that zoo featured mostly horses, cats and various other farm animals they swapped stories of when a memory struck them. He already knew where he was going to fit the chicken, he just needed his hands to cooperate long enough to get the feathers right.

Looking back down he scowled at the stubborn piece of wood for having the audacity to not simply shape itself the way he envisioned. Chickens, as it turned out, were hard enough to get right in the first place, what with Logan seeing them being plump fluffy things meant to be pet and cuddled. Virgil, on the other hand, saw nothing but mini dinosaurs that had to be smaller just to spite him with their sharp beaks being ankle height. He had seen what the tiny terrors could do with their beaks and talons, beady eyes zeroing in on a target and having little to no regard for what it was, so long as it reacted to being chased and pecked at. But Logan had loved them and still held them in fond regard even if he no longer worked on a farm, so Virgil had wanted to solidify the past life with his tools just as he did all the others. He’dthank his hands for not allowing him to finish it if he wasn’t so sure it would make Logan’s face brighten with the smile Virgil lived and breathed to see.

His chin was taken gently and tilted so that he was looking at his husband, that smile Virgil had fallen for time and time again gracing his lips as he ironically tucked a sprig of forget-me-nots behind his ear. Their house was full of them, dried and paired with lavender and tucked into nearly every feasible space they could. The dusty scent of their favorite flowers mixed with the wide variety of candles strewn about on spare surfaces, a collection of scents they had discovered reminded them of different places and times spent together. A gentle flick at his bottom lip returned him to the present, the smile now a smirk as Logan tapped his nose.

“I cannot fathom why you are attempting to carve a chicken if you despise them enough to nearly combust a replica with a glare.”

“You like chickens and I like you. So you’re getting a chicken.” Virgil rolled his eyes at the teasing, clenching his hands into fists in his lap. “I just need my useless hands to cooperate with me or I would have had it done ages ago. I can never keep up with everything I’ve done in the past.”

Virgil huffed and smiled ruefully up at the other who looked to be considering something. Before he could ask him for his thoughts however he was pulled carefully to his feet, his rough hands held tightly in dry slender fingers. Rubbing his thumbs over the back of them Logan brought one of his hands to his lips to place a gentle kiss to his knuckles, doing the same to the other even as Virgil blushed profusely and was pulled into a soft embrace.

“I love and appreciate your talents and passion, making our memories real to remind us of the happiness we shared in the past.” Logan’s breath tickled his ear as he rested his chin on his shoulder, Virgil burying his face in the crook of his neck to hide his ever deepening blush. “I love your hands as they are, whether you find them useful or not. They’re there for me to hold and kiss and that’s use enough for me.”

“Logan-”

“You’ve made so many things that we’ve loved unconditionally throughout our lives. But it was never about our past or future, it’s just us.” Logan moved away to place his hands on his cheeks instead, steady gaze radiating warmth and comfort. “I love you. I always have and I always will- and I certainly don’t need you carving a quote ‘diet dinosaur’ to know that you feel the same.”

Virgil snorted and leaned forward to rest his forehead on Logan’s, simply taking in the quiet as they stood in each other’s embrace. To love and be loved by someone across multiple lifetimes was something he cherished above everything else, the lines of fate tracing forwards and backwards to weave them together again and again. He realized as he stood there, surrounded by a nostalgic museum meant only for them and lit with the soft glow of the early morning sun warming them further, that there truly was no one else for him. He leaned against soulmate and smiled, thinking through everything that had happened in the past and everything that would happen in the future, he had Logan.

And that was enough.

#oren writes #sanders side #sanders sides fic #analogicalweek #analogical week 2021 #analogical #virgil sanders #sanders sides virgil #logan sanders #sanders sides logan #logan x virgil #logan sanders x virgil sanders

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