and rosaries don't make you any less scared of god .
more au art !! i drew this in good old mspaint ! it started out as a doodle but .. slowly dissolved ehe . more about this au can be found on @tslosersau , so feel free to send me asks over there :'D literally all i think about is this au so if you have a question i probably can write several paragraphs !
@yeah-im-a-fae-deal-with-it, I hope you enjoy this! I had a lot of fun making it and I hope I did the wishes justice. Happy Holidays!! (Much of the imagery was based on the song Volcano by The Vamps.)
@sanderssidesgiftxchange
Word Count: 3993
It was mid semester and Virgil had arrived late to class for the first time in his three years of college. He hurried in quietly, taking his usual seat and pulling his books out. Almost shamefully, he grabbed his homework and walked between the desks to put it on the teacher’s.
He must have had the worst luck in the world as, just then, she turned around. “Ah, Mr. Storm. I was wondering when you’d show up.” Her tone was kind, no note of malice anywhere.
Virgil nodded. “I forgot to set my alarm.” His voice was quiet, barely reaching past the professor.
She nodded with a smile that seemed genuine. “Go back to your seat, please. Just as discussed yesterday, you’ll be debating Mr. Croft in a few minutes.”
Virgil trudged back to his seat, slipping past the others to sit in his usual corner. Feeling eyes on him, he looked up to find Logan Croft, a double major in zoology and astronomy who was taking this class for fun, staring at him with an unreadable expression. Virgil ignored him, turning back to his notebook and doodling in the margins as he waited for the professor to finish taking attendance.
He got through half the page before he was being called up to debate, as per usual. He and Croft were only put against each other as examples or if the lecture finished early. This was mainly due to them both being stubborn in their ways and being able to debate things for hours. Thus, they were both called into her office the day before to confirm the topic and style of the debate.
There they stood, on opposite sides of the same plain. It was a familiar position for the pair during their debates. While many would have seen a peaceful place within that plain, maybe even a spot to build something, the two students only saw a battlefield with the fight yet to be fought, yet to be won. Their words danced across the plain, leaving wounds that didn’t mean a thing outside of that moment. A struggle for dominance raged before, as it always did, they came to be equals that saw eye to eye.
Their debate lasted for the first half of class before they came to some sort of agreement on their topic and sat down to listen to the teacher give a lecture on what just happened. After class, Croft caught up with Virgil on his way out. “That was a good debate today, Storm.” He said. The battlefield was back to a plain, nothing special about it.
Virgil looked at him briefly before just shrugging and walking up the stairs. He didn’t bother to look back or wonder why the student who usually avoided him unless it was during these debates was talking to him. He just knew he needed to get to class.
A day later, he was running to dance class and missed a step. Crashing down the stairs, he landed at the bottom in a haze of pain. He tried to move but found that his vision was blurry and his ankle was broken. Someone nearby gave a shout and he heard footsteps on the stairs. A hand landed on his shoulder and he flinched, coming face to face with the person who lived across the hall from him.
“Virgil, what happened?” Emile said, eyes looking concerned.
The dancer didn’t even lie to the psychology major he knew only in passing. “I fell.” He shook his head, trying to get his vision to focus on something, anything. “My ankle hurts.”
Emile nodded and moved to look at it. Gently pressing, he inspected the joint. Virgil hissed when he pressed on it and Emile sat back. “Yep, that’s broken.” Sighing, he moved to help Virgil to his feet, throwing the dancer’s arm over his shoulders. “I’ve got time before my next class so I’ll take you to the nurse before I go tell you’re dance teacher you won’t be able to make it today.”
Virgil shook his head, hobbling along beside him. “No, I’ll tell her later.”
Emile frowned. “You know Professor Kim is not going to be happy about this development. She was counting on you being there through the whole semester.”
Virgil just laughed, shaking his head. “Since when do you talk with her?”
“Since I came to drop off your lunch that day and she was the only one there. We struck up a conversation about you.”
Virgil nodded. “Fair.”
Emile pushed the door open and sat Virgil in the nurse's office before leaving with a wave, tossing an, “I’ll be back in a bit,” over his shoulder. Virgil waited for the nurse to come and diagnose him, soon being rolled out on a gurney on his way to the hospital to get a cast on his broken ankle. He’d also been told that he had a concussion but that wasn’t the main concern.
A few days later, debate class was back in session and Virgil was there in a cast, crutches by his side. Croft came in and eyed the crutches before setting his bag by his usual chair. He didn’t sit down as Virgil thought he would, rather coming over to stand by Virgil’s seat. He nodded his chin at the cast. “What happened there?”
Virgil was taken aback by the care in his voice, a voice that had previously remained so neutral while talking to him that it was borderline monotone. He shrugged as he continued to grab his books out of his bag. “I fell.”
Croft raised his eyebrows, looking about as convinced as he would if Virgil had just told him the sky was magenta. “You fell? Why don’t I buy that, Storm?”
Virgil shook his head. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t believe the truth, Croft.”
He huffed, his eyes melting into the concern that was evident in his voice. Opening his mouth, he seemed to be about to say something but thought better of it, going to sit down instead just as the professor walked in. She paused by his desk. “Professor Kim told me about the ankle. You don’t have to debate for the rest of the semester if you don’t feel up to it.”
Virgil shook his head. “Standing won’t be a problem as long as I have the crutches.”
She nodded. “Still, I’d like to let you rest for a bit.”
Virgil shrugged. “I’m fully capable of standing and debating but I’ll follow your lead on this.” She gave a final nod and moved to stand at the front of the room to begin class.
Thus, six weeks went by. Virgil did essays on dance and movement instead of performing the dances. Professor Kim insisted on recording the lessons so he’l still be able to do them when he’s recovered, which he was immensely grateful for. Debate class went similarly in that he wasn’t called up as often to debate Croft anymore. Instead, he wrote most of his debates as argumentive papers.
That summer, Virgil stayed on campus. He wasn’t taking a summer course, he was simply trying to follow the videos Professor Kim left for him. He lived nearby anyways so it made sense to keep using the studio on campus. That’s how he ended up running into Croft again on the stairs.
“Oh,” the other student said, bag in hand as he was clearly trying to put his books back in it, “I didn’t expect you to be here.”
Virgil smiled, holding up the gym bag that had replaced his book bag. “The studio is allowing me to catch up on my dance lessons over the summer.” He paused. He and Croft had never been too cordial with each other, merely remaining civil. However, toward the end of the semester they'd come to some sort of academic truce. Now, they were just normal strangers, just two students. So, Virgil took a chance. “What about you? Why are you still here?”
Croft finally shoved the last book into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “I’m having to retake a class due to low grades.” He shook his head. “I just can’t grasp the subject.”
“What is it?”
Croft sighed. “Psychology.”
Virgil nodded and, on a whim, gave an offer. “I passed Psych with flying colors if you want me to tutor you?”
That plain, that had once been a battlefield before lying dormant, became a meadow in that one moment. No longer a place for duels or violence, but peace and healing. Their once shaky truce seemed to settle, becoming something more permanent, as Croft smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
They walked side by side as they discussed times and tactics for studying. They concluded that their only overlapping free time was directly after Virgil was finished with dance practice as that was when Croft got out of his classes and clubs but before Virgil had to go to Professor Kim’s office for office hours.
So, the very next day saw Virgil walking out of the shower room, towel he’d been drying his hair with still in hand, to see Croft leaning against the wall in the hall. “I wasn’t expecting you for another fifteen minutes or so.” Virgil said as he approached.
Croft looked up from the book in his hand. He briefly glanced at the page number before snapping it shut and picking up his bag. “Apologies, I like to be early.”
Virgil just waved his hand as they fell in step beside each other. “It’s fine. Next time, you don’t have to wait in the hall if I’m not in the shower, you can just sit in the room. As long as you’re quiet, you’ll be fine.”
Croft nodded. “Noted, thank you.”
They made it to the library and sat down, both pulling out books. When Croft gave Virgil a puzzled look, he laughed a bit. “I’ve brought my notes and blank copies of homework to use as practice problems. First, I want to gauge just how bad off you are.” he set down the cumulative final review. “Fill this out to the best of your ability.” Croft set to work, a serious expression on his face. Virgil didn’t want to twiddle his thumbs while waiting so he pulled out his phone and opened it to a new note, beginning to plan out his evening.
Once that was done, he looked up to see Croft with his tongue sticking out slightly, hair in his eyes, and eyes focused on the page. Strangely, there was something beautiful about the concentrated look on his face. Maybe it was the way the sunlight dramatized it and cast his eyes into shadows, making Virgil want to stare until he could see where the iris ended and the pupil began; maybe it was the way his hair framed his face in a way that made Virgil want to pull out a sketchbook.
Feeling self conscious at that thought, he looked back down at his phone and ignored the other student until he heard a pencil connect with the table. “Alright, Storm, I’m done.”
Virgil nodded and slid the page over to himself, quickly checking it against the answer sheet he’d made up. He gave Croft a grade, circled it, and slid it back. A sharp intake of breath came back as Virgil pulled a clean piece of paper closer to himself and began to write down what needed to be worked on.
“Is it really that bad?” Croft’s voice came from Virgil’s side.
He paused in his writing to look up at his former academic rival. He shrugged. “It could be worse. You don’t seem to be too bad off right now and we’re gonna try to get you to where you need to be as soon as possible.”
Croft nodded and away they went. The next few weeks were spent in a new routine. Croft would wait in the hall if Virgil was in the shower but most times Virgil had lost track of time and gone over, resulting in Croft sitting in the corner reviewing definitions. A few times, one of his clubs wouldn’t meet and he’d get out earlier than normal. Those were the times that Croft would sit in and make sure Virgil wasn’t putting too much strain on his ankle and was properly hydrating. Those were the times they’d strike up a bit of witty banter that reminded them of their debates but on a personal level that the debate class was lacking.
One step at a time, they came closer on that meadow until they were standing side by side, leaning on the other. As they grew closer, the meadow rose as if two tectonic plates were pushing it toward the sky. Over the course of that one season, the meadow had become a mountain of a friendship. Their banter began to spread outside of just those rare moments, becoming a constant part of their meetings, tutor sessions, and walks.
It wasn’t long before the summer semester ended and they had a few weeks of vacation before the next semester. As the days shortened and the leaves turned colors, Virgil almost expected Croft to go on his way. After all, the agreement was done. Virgil had finished learning all the moves he’d needed and Croft had passed his classes with the usual flying colors.
Still, tutor sessions turned into chats over coffee, dancing changed to walks in the park, but their late night talks on the way back to their apartment building stayed the same. Virgil enjoyed that constant, knowing that no matter what else happened that day, he could walk back to the apartment building with Croft. It was one such walk that it struck him. In all their time together, he’d gotten closer to Croft and no longer saw him as the academic rival they’d been at the start of the year. Instead, he saw him as a friend, or even more than that.
Just when Virgil was satisfied and comfortable with the balance they’d created together, fate tossed a spark gently onto the mountain. In that instance, the mountain turned into a volcano. In that one instant of time, Virgil had fallen for Logan Croft and he knew with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t have it any other way. He had no idea how he’d tell him, or even if he would tell him. After all, volcanoes can stay dormant for years before going extinct or erupting. Virgil could just wait and hope it was the former or deal with the latter.
The next few weeks were much the same as that with the exception that Virgil was noticing every little thing that Logan did. He noticed the way he leaned toward Virgil as they talked, the way his focus was entirely on the dancer during conversations. Logan was always walking on Virgil’s left side, the ankle he’d broken mid spring semester that acted up occasionally but especially on stairs. He noticed Logan holding doors for him or smiling at him for no particular reason.
All of this gave Virgil a spark of hope in his chest that had him wondering if Logan liked him back. That spark was almost crushed one afternoon. They had just gotten their coffee and started their usual round about the park when Logan spoke. “I might not be able to do the full rotation today, Storm. I’ve got a date with Roman later.”
Virgil felt like his chest had just been stomped on. “. . . A date?” He didn’t know how he kept his voice steady when his heart was breaking, getting closer and closer to shattering the more he thought about those two words.
Logan tilted his head to the sides. “Maybe ‘date’ is the wrong word for it. It’s more like a meet-up.”
Virgil nodded, pretending he hadn’t been holding his breath through that whole exchange. “Okay, when do you have to leave?”
“About half an hour.” He turned and smiled. “Plenty of time.”
Virgil smiled and walked ahead, turning to face Logan as he walked backwards. Logan shook his head. “That’s not the safest way to travel, you know.”
Virgil just shrugged. “There’s worse ways to travel.” He also got to see the rare grin that spread across the zoology major’s face, not that he would tell said student that.
Their walk in the park ended with them standing at the entrance. “I’ll see you later, Storm.” Logan said by way of parting.
“Wait! Later as in tomorrow or later as in-”
He laughed, something that was even more rare than his grin but something Virgil longed to hear more often. “Later today.” Virgil nodded, walking back to his apartment alone.
On a whim, he grabbed his gym bag, stuffing his dance shoes in it, and went to the studio. He scrolled through his playlist as he entered before just hitting shuffle and letting the music play as he got ready. He waited for the next song and took a second to identify it before throwing his hoodie off and moving to the center of the room.
He went with the music, letting his body flow in whatever way it wanted. Incorporating all the moves he’d learned over the past few months into a cohesive whole that was both as graceful as saplings in the wind but as sharp as the flapping of cloth. He danced to forget his troubles and anxieties, letting them bleed into the movements. A faster song came on and he changed his movements to match, becoming sharper as he let himself get lost in the music, lost to the beat of his feet against the floor, the feeling of the air on his sweat, the feeling of dancing and being free and feeling on top of the world.
When the playlist ended and his muscles were screaming for him to rest, he collapsed onto the floor, panting for breath. When he felt like he could stand, he moved to check his phone clock and found that he’d spent the whole afternoon dancing. Quickly, he showered and made his way back to his apartment. He was still overheated after dancing for a few hours straight so he just had his hoodie slung over his arm, his gym bag over his other shoulder.
He got back to his apartment to see Logan with a fist raised to knock. Smiling, he moved around him and unlocked it. “Come on in.” He dropped his keys in the little bowl on the entrance way table. “I’ve just gotta put this stuff away but it won’t be long.”
Logan smiled, standing comfortably in the entryway. “Take your time, Storm, I’m not going anywhere.”
For a brief moment, Virgil wondered what his first name would sound like in Logan’s voice. He didn’t dwell on it, instead he nodded, ducking into his bedroom to store his bag where it belonged. Taking a second to put on some extra deodorant and move his hair around so it looked semi-styled instead of the mess it was before, he took a deep breath. The scare of losing him that afternoon had made Virgil realize that he needed to act fast before he lost Logan for real.
So, he kept the hoodie across his arm as he went back out and picked up the keys again. “Ready to go?”
Logan nodded. “Quite.”
Virgil held the door open for him, locking it on his way out. They started down the path in relative silence, the only noise being the crunching of gravel beneath their feet and the sounds of life coming from nearby buildings. Virgil was hesitant to break the silence despite the feelings and words bubbling below his surface. Logan also seemed comfortable in the lack of conversation. They made it to a bench that was out of the way and sat on it to stargaze for a bit.
Virgil tilted his head back, resting it on the back of the bench. His eyes scanned the sky, resting on different stars and connecting them into constellations. After another while of silence, Logan shivered beside Virgil and the dancer turned his head, looking at the astronomy major. “Are you cold?” His voice broke the silence like a sheet of ice falling from a slope.
Logan shrugged. “A bit. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”
Virgil hummed and threw his hoodie over the other. “No use in you getting cold when this is right here.”
Logan didn’t react beyond tilting his head down just the slightest bit. He hummed, taking a breath before speaking. “Apologies again for having to end our afternoon walk early.”
Virgil waved his hand. “It’s fine. In fact, it actually gave me time to think.”
Logan looked over at him, eyes inquisitive behind his square black frames. “What about?”
Virgil took a deep steadying breath of the night air before he turned to face Logan just a bit more on the bench. “About you, actually. I realized something when you said you had a date with Roman.”
Logan nodded, his gaze sharpening as his attention seemed to hone in on Virgil. “Okay.”
Virgil fiddled with the rips in his jeans, suddenly anxious. “I realized that if I didn’t act now, someone else might be walking by your side in the park, laughing with a coffee in hand. Someone else might have the door you knock on late at night when you can’t sleep, be the person you debate with over the phone into the early hours of the morning.” He took another deep breath, not looking up at the wonderful human sitting in front of him, the one who deserved the world. “I realized that I love you and can’t stand the thought of another person getting to hold your hand and kiss you goodnight.” He turned his head so he was staring out into the night rather than at Logan. “There, I said it. I love you. I love you so much my chest aches.”
Logan hummed in a way that Virgil couldn’t interpret before there was the rustling of fabric and Logan was kneeling before Virgil, one hand hovering near the dancer’s cheek. “I’m glad you told me as it makes what I’m going to say much easier.” Virgil’s eyes widened slightly, fearing the next thing to come past Logan's lips.
“I love you too. Honestly, I think I’ve loved you since the start of the fall semester. The way you helped me study, putting things into ways I can understand and bending over backwards to do so. The care you take with everything you do, the grace in your every move, the fire and passion you put into your dancing, I love all of you.”
Virgil couldn’t believe what he was hearing but his nerves settled when Logan’s soft expression didn't change, didn’t turn to a sneer, he didn’t laugh or mock Virgil. Elated, he leaned forward but paused before he could connect their lips. Logan smiled at the quiet ask for consent and leaned in with him, closing the distance and bringing him into a kiss. His hovering hand settled on Virgil’s cheek as Virgil’s hand came up to cradle the back of Logan’s neck, neither wanting to let go.
When they pulled apart, they were both smiling. Logan pulled the hoodie tighter around his shoulders before standing, offering a hand to Virgil to stand as well. An idea came to him and Virgil put his hand in his pocket, pulling his phone out to play a few ballads. “Dance with me under the stars?”
Logan grinned, sliding his hands to be around Virgil’s neck. “I’d love nothing more.”
So, the two did just that, dancing the hour away under the midnight stars. In the arms of the one they loved, the same person who had been their greatest enemy at the start of the year, neither could ask for a better way to spend their time.
Day Two: There is a timer that counts down to when you will meet your soulmate.
Summary: Emile had calculated the exact day he'd meet his soulmate. By some strange coincidence, it was his first day of college. Would his soulmate be his roommate? A classmate? God forbid it be a professor. He was not expecting it to be the barista at a coffee shop.
Ship: Remile (Remy x Emile)
word count: 352
@tsshipmonth2020
---
It became very obvious to Emile what day he’d meet his soulmate. As the years faded into months, he pinpointed it as the day he’d move into his college dorm room. Would his roommate be his soulmate? Would it be one of his classmates? He dreaded the thought of it being a professor.
As the day grew nearer, he became more nervous, hoping that whoever his soulmate was, they’d love cartoons as much as he did, that they liked cuddles and late night talks over herbal tea.
The day came, and he kept his eye on his index finger. “That puts it at… two this afternoon,” he murmured to himself. He kept checking throughout the day, as he met his roommates, as he unpacked and took a tour of the campus with some of his other dorm mates. They decided to stop in at the coffee shop; the timer was at two minutes.
-
“Sorry Remy, I know today’s the day, but we really need you to come in,” his manager sounded apologetic on the phone, so he sighed and agreed to pick up an extra shift. He needed the money anyways, but… he had been looking forward to this day all summer. He had gotten a haircut last week and spent all morning making himself look amazing, and now it would all be ruined because he had to be the best barista in the whole town.
He kept an eye on his index finger his whole shift; it was moving day at the local university, so there were more options than usual, it seemed. He got off his break when the timer said two minutes.
-
“Next!” Remy called out. The man stepped up to him, and his timer hit zero. Both of their eyes widened as they met, and a grin broke out on Emile’s face. “Oh. Hello there.”
“I’m Emile!” The man said excitedly, nearly throwing himself over the counter. Remy laughed, shooting a knowing look to his manager, then tore his apron off, hopping over the counter to gather Emile in his arms.
Emile says: Be silly, have fun and do what makes you happy!!! You are not responsible for anyone’s well being but your own. You are enough, you are loved and important, and it’s okay to take a break.
Day Fourteen: The first words you hear your soulmate speak are written on your arm.
Summary: Logan is deaf, and yet there are words on his forearm. Emile hopes that their instincts are correct.
Ship: Lomile (Logan x Emile)
word count: 424
@tsshipmonth2020
---
They didn’t know for sure if they were soulmates. People who were or whose soulmates were (or would become) hard of hearing or mute often were born with no words on their wrists. But Logan and Emile were. Logan, born deaf, had the words Can You Hear Me? written on his forearm, indicating that someday, his soulmate would ask those words. Emile’s arm said I Can Hear You.
The pair met in college as roommates and became fast friends; Emile knew sign language since his mother had become deaf after an accident, and so he often tagged along with Logan to places to act as a translator. They discussed their soulmate’s words often, and slowly fell in love, though it was quiet and drawn out, and something neither of them intended to happen.
Emile hoped that their words were connected and that, someday, he’d get to hear Logan’s voice, and that Logan would hear his. It seemed unlikely as they grew older, graduating university and moving into an apartment together. He would lay on Logan’s chest, listening to the calm breathing of his partner, unsure of how their future could pan out if they weren’t each other’s soulmates.
They began their careers; Logan as an astronomer and Emile as a children’s therapist. Things were going so well with them, so they decided over tea one morning that they should get married. A year later, they signed their vows at the altar, tears streaming down their faces in the silence.
Years passed, they adopted dogs and had plants and things were good. If they weren’t soulmates, they were tied together inextricably anyways, through their own choices. And that was okay.
But technology was advancing, and when Logan was nearing the age of 50, his doctor told him about this revolutionary implant that helps those who were born fully deaf to hear, albeit faintly. He almost turned it down, but he noticed the words on his wrist, and agreed.
Emile held his hand as the implants were inserted, and then they waited. When the doctor gave a thumbs up, their eyes met, and Emile smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling behind his tortoiseshell glasses. “Can you hear me?”
Logan almost burst into tears. He could hear his husband’s voice, and it was beautiful and wonderful. He composed himself and then fought to get the words out: “I can hear you.”
Emile hugged him tightly, their lips pressing together hurriedly, and he whispered against his husband’s lips: “I love you, Logan. I’m so glad it’s you.”
