#This was a thought I’d forgotten in the drafts so sorry if the ending kinda sucks.. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

today-only-happens-once · 5 years ago

Text

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.

...

Tags: @helloisthisusernametaken, @ren-allen, @quoth-the-sparrow, @princelogical, @random-pianist, @ravenclawicecream, @erlenmeyertrash, @milomeepit, @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes, @rileyfirstname, @pinkeasteregg, @sassy-in-glasses, @vigilantvirgil, @generalfandomfabulousness, @lacrimosathedark, @thepoolofthedead, @monikastec, @heir-of-the-founders, @yourworstnightmare999, @artistictaurean, @kanejandkruge, @cdragontogacotar, @damienswifeolicitydallysgirl, @angst-patton, @savingshae, @noneed4thistbh, @awesomelissawho, @unikornavenger, @bopthesnoz, @spiralofsilencetheory, @finger-gunsss, @crownswriter123, @swlotakulady34, @gaylotusthatexists, @analogical-mess, @dolphidragon, @flix-net, @narniasfinestavengingsociopath, @friedlieb-ferdinand-runge, @bibbidy-bobbity-booyah, @procrastinations-my-middle-name, @theburntesttoast, @monroig, @secretlyawyvern, @puddinglec4t

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #lamp/calm #logan sanders #sanders sides fanfic #sci-fi au #violence tw #cursing tw #heed warnings #blood tw #injury tw #hurt/comfort #angst #whump #let me know if other warnings should be in the tags themselves too!#kjfksdjfksdlfj #hope it turned out okay

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sapphirewolf1122 · 5 years ago

Text

Coming in, Fat

Summary: All you want to do is use your quirk to help others. But sometimes, you go a little overboard.

Word Count: 1, 477

A/N: Sorry, got distracted by another project and didn’t finish my research in time to post this yesterday! But on the bright side, put together a wedding compilation video that I meant to do like three months ago! Anywho, this is just a scene that came from a convo I had with my sister about someone who had a quirk that let them manipulate their fat all around their body and, potentially, others. Which led to the idea of her swatting Fat Gum clear across a room...soooo, here ya ago. My sister may post a romantic version of this but I don’t wanna tag her and call her out like that. Thanks for reading and hope you like it!

“One bowl of miso ramen, topped with ajitama and negi, please. Oh, and ten onigiri, all tuna.”

The vendor eyed you doubtfully; you had distributed your fat pretty evenly today so you appeared to have a fairly thin figure. “Where you planning on putting all that food?”

“Food powers my quirk, so I have a heartier appetite than you might think,” you said with a smirk.

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, the vendor got to preparing your order. Soon, you were walking down the street, munching on one of your rice bowls. You had eaten the ramen by the vending cart before starting your patrol.

You hummed contentedly as you reached into your food bag for another rice bowl, though you still kept a sharp eye on the surrounding streets. There had been a rise in crime in this district recently so you’d decided to check it out. The one that was part of your usual patrol route had been very quiet lately, so you’d grown bored with it. Though your chest swelled with pride at the thought that you’d been part of the reason it had quieted down so much.

Your friends over at Naruhata had advised against patrolling out of your own town, saying that it led to a greater chance of getting caught red-handed. But you had brushed off their concerns. Disguising yourself was a specialty of yours after all.

Reaching into the bag again, your mind wandered back to when you were still in school. Many had been quite envious of your quirk, especially the girls. But no one had ever considered it worthy of hero work. Not even your parents, who had refused to let you even attend the hero course entrance exam at your local high school. To them, your quirk was all about looks.

Which reminded you. Stopping to look at yourself in a shop window, you squinted, thinking about what to do with your features today. You didn’t want to be too recognizable after all. Hm…you’d go more masculine today. Your profile had you pegged as female, so assuming a male look would really throw them off.

Concentrating, you broaden your shoulders and maneuver some fat into your face so that your features were a bit more rugged. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much you could do about your height. But you found that it often worked to your advantage anyway. Thugs didn’t normally expect those who were smaller than them to beat them up so much. In fact, it sometimes became a bit of an issue…

You’re too hot-headed and brash with your quirk. And that’s what’s gonna get you in a load of trouble one day.

Tch. Hot-headed...it’s not hot-headed if they had it coming. They're the ones who decided to pick a fight. You were completely reasonable. Satisfied with your disguise, you pulled up your hood and turned to continue your patrol.

Only to be knocked back as a body slammed into you, causing you to drop your food as you landed on your behind. Dumbfounded, you stared at the scattered contents. None of the remaining rice balls were salvageable. You heard the person mumble something but that didn’t stop your vision from filling with red. What kind of monster exhibited such a nonchalant and wasteful attitude towards food?

Whipping around to the rapidly retreating figure, you watched as they turned down a side street. As they did, you thought you saw the glint of a weapon in their hand. Your eyes widened. Could this person be a villain in more ways than one?

Rushing to your feet, you chased after them, rounding the corner to the side street to find that it was relatively deserted. The villain was a ways ahead; you wouldn’t be able to catch up by running after them. Good, you hated running.

Leaping into the air, you rapidly directed the majority of your fat into your legs, concentrating them around certain muscles for the most effective energy absorption. As you landed, you used the accumulated fat to send you springing forward again, this time higher and further than before. In fact, you may have overshot it a bit…

Suddenly, a yellow mass appeared in front of you with a yell. Unable to stop your fall at this point, you crashed into them, fully expecting both of you to go tumbling. Except...you didn’t? You’d barely registered that you were actually sinking into them before you shot back out.

As you flew back, your mind was racing. There was only one person who could’ve done that...only one hero.

You landed hard on the pavement. It took a lot of quick quirk improvisation on your part to keep you from getting too banged up; you managed to absorb most of the energy by concentrating your fat at key impact points. Still, you were left quite stunned once your tumble session was over.

Staring up at the sky, you had pretty much forgotten about the villain as your brain tried to process who had just launched you across the street.

Could it really be him? What district was this again? You weren’t on his patrolling grounds, were you? How could you not know if it were his patrolling grounds? No, there was no way. You would totally know if you had a chance of running into Fa—

“Hiya.” A big, grinning face in a yellow hood appeared above you.

“Gah, Fat Gum!” You practically jumped out of your skin as you rolled upright.

“Sure am. You all right there? Seemed like a pretty nasty tumble.”

“I-I’m fine.”

The BMI Hero: Fat Gum, the pro hero whom you admire more than any other, cocked his head. “Yeah, looks like it. Got some sort of absorption quirk? What was that jump you just made? Y’know using your quirk in public is illegal right; if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were chasin’ that guy. Actaully, you seem kinda familiar…”

Fat Gum recognized you?!

Before your mind could spiral any further on what that could mean, you heard a shout behind you. Turning, you saw a red-headed boy holding onto the guy who had knocked you over.

“Hey Fat, I got ‘im! Didn’t put up much of a fight. That other hero okay? That sure was a manly jump!” He gave you a sharp-toothed grin.

“Good job, Red. Detain him til the cops can get here. And all good here; was actually just about to ask our friend some questions. For one, they ain’t no hero.”

Crap, that didn’t sound good. “I...uh…” You started to back away but froze when Fat Gum placed his hand on your shoulder.

“In fact, looks like we got ourselves the vigilante, Futoi. She’s normally pretty hard to catch since she can manipulate her looks with her quirk but it seems she’s used up her excess fat.”

At his remark, you automatically went to touch your face to find that he was right. Your disguise had melted away due to the lack of fat left in your body. You felt a spark of your anger from before come back; this is why you’d needed those rice balls!

“Now young lady, please come with me. You’re wanted for several counts of illegal quirk use.”

Shaking off his hand, you backed away with a shake of your head. “I just use my quirk to help people! To help heroes like you catch the bad guys!”

Fat Gum’s smile seemed to soften. “While that is very noble of you, without a license, that is considered the work of a vigilante.”

“It’s not my fault my quirk wasn’t deemed worthy of one,” you scowled, aware that you sounded rather bitter.

“Perhaps not, but that doesn’t negate the fact that you’ve performed illegal actions and for that—”

Fat Gum had started to reach for you again but, panicked, you swung at him, using his own excess fat to your advantage to send him flying. He crashed into a wall, blinking at you in surprise. Both you and Red Riot stared after him in shock. You recovered your senses first though and turned to sprint away.

Holding back tears, you mentally yelled at yourself. You attacked Fat Gum! Your hero role model! You had dreamed of joining his agency if you ever managed to obtain a license. Now you had made sure that would never happen. Ugh, Koichi would never let you hear the end of this.

~~~~~~~

Back in the alley, Fat Gum still lay among the rubble where he had landed, staring after you in shock. Kirishima rushed towards him, dragging the unconscious thug with him.

“Fat, you okay?! How could she send you flying like that?”

It was several moments before Fat answered. “Someone get that girl a license and sign her up for my agency immediately. Also, find me some takoyaki, will ya?”

~~~~~~~

A/N2: Yes, I know, I wasn’t very original with the vigilante name...but I like names to have meaning and I feel like Reader wouldn’t have really put much thought into it.

I tried to incorporate a few references to the Vigilante series; that was actually what my extra research was, haha. Wasn’t til after I wrote up the first draft of this that I remembered that Fat Gum literally featured in the series about vigilantes. Obviously, this is set a lot further down the timeline than where the current volumes are at.

Finally, if anyone has any name suggestions for the fic, I’m open to recommendations. Thank you again for reading!

#bnha #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #boku no hero fanfic #my hero academia #mha #Kirishima Eijirou #bnha kirishima #bnha eijiro kirishima #fatgum #bnha fat #bnha fatgum #vigilante #bnha vigilantes #bnha taishiro #reader #fatgum x reader #no romance

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rivalsforlife · 4 years ago

Note

I DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE DOING COMMENTARY hope it's not too late to ask for The Scene at the end of chapter 5 of the catch up game?? if no one else has asked?

It is never too late to ask!! Genuinely you could probably ask me six months from now and I’ll ramble on about all this, I’m generally down to talk about my writing all the time. (And I’m actually a little surprised nobody asked about The Scene yet... oh well haha)

First though: have you seen this art yet? If you haven’t you should. It was going around twitter again lately and I love it a lot so I wanted to advertise it while I had the chance.

Anyways, keeping under a “keep reading” here:

So. The Scene. First I’ll present my notes from the outline when I was trying to figure out this fic:

Miles lets his feelings slip, Phoenix doesn’t take it too well, they part on a kind of awkward note.

Somehow “kind of an awkward note” ended up being uhhh that!

Anyways before we get into this I want to say that I really did not think it would have that much of an emotional impact? I got a much bigger reaction than I thought and that’s around when people really started talking about it on the narumitsu discord and stuff, so I ended up for the rest of the week soooo stressed out that I’d accidentally gone in a completely different direction than I’d planned and set people’s expectations too high and they would be COMPLETELY DISAPPOINTED IN THE REST OF THE FIC but uh luckily that didn’t happen! I think. At least if anyone was super disappointed they didn’t tell me about it!

And it was probably partially that I am not very uhh good with emotions and also probably that I got pretty desensitized to my work but I genuinely did not think it was that bad until I saw Ro’s art and then went “ohhh suddenly I am consumed with so much guilt...” (and also doubted how in character this scene was. how can ANYONE say no to that face --)

Most critically though, this scene distracted everyone from whatever the hell was going on with the casefic earlier in the chapter, so overall I think it’s a success.

Sorry it’s taking a while to get to the actual scene, but I wrote a few drafts of this thing beforehand and modified it a lot trying to get it right. I needed it to be sufficiently dramatic but I didn’t want it to seem like... I was just adding it in there for extra conflict? Like you know sometimes you read stuff and you’re like “where the hell did this sudden argument come from” yeah. I wanted to avoid that if I could, so partially this was supported by the weight of chapter 4 to explain Phoenix’s reasons for the rejection and then chapter 6 is supposed to elaborate more, but I still needed this to stand fairly well on its own.

The overall theme of this chapter was “Opposites”, and again, here’s what I had in my fic notes:

I want to contrast how Phoenix sees Miles and how Miles sees Phoenix. Because they both kind of see each other as an amazing person while seeing themselves as failures. Maybe at the end Phoenix is kind of putting himself down and Miles argues about it and then they have a slight argument. Miles lets his feelings slip, Phoenix doesn’t take it too well, they part on a kind of awkward note.

I couldn’t really find a way to integrate this conversation in naturally, so I could only get Phoenix’s perspective in there a little bit. Originally Miles’ confession wasn’t supposed to be planned, just a spur of the moment in the middle of an argument where Phoenix kind of goes “I don’t understand why you keep hanging out with me, why are you spending so much time with me, I’m not struggling, I don’t need you worrying about me” and Miles interrupts with a “Because I love you, you idiot!” ... But I couldn’t get that to work because the buildup into the argument felt too abrupt.

Last little bit of something just before the argument (some of the dialogue here went into the chapter 4 dinner conversation instead):

Miles: (quietly) I’ve spent most of my life trying to climb higher in my career, in order to fight corruption as best I could. And I have, and every day my mission is growing closer to completion, or at least as much as it can. But after that… (staring at some kids’ toy) what’s left for me? I’ve taken a rather unconventional path through life. I’m starting to wonder about opportunities I’ve missed.

Phoenix: (jokingly) Is that some long-winded way of telling me you’re planning on settling down?

Miles: I’d never settle. But in some sense, I suppose so.

Phoenix: (stopping in his tracks) You’re kidding. L-Like, what, in a year or so I’m gonna walk in to your office one day and find you with a wife and kids?

Miles: (rolling his eyes) You do know that I’m gay, don’t you? And why would I keep them in my office? There’s no need to be so melodramatic, Wright.

Again couldn’t fit it in I just found it funny. ANYWAYS FINALLY MOVING AWAY FROM THE DRAFTS AND TO THE ACTUAL THING, I’ll skip ahead a bit to just before the confession:

“How long has it been since I came here?”

“I dunno… since before I got my badge back, probably.”

“That sounds about right.” Edgeworth sighed and leaned against Phoenix’s desk. “I’ve barely gotten the chance to see you, since you got your badge back and I took my new position. I’ve missed going up against you in court.”

“I don’t,” Phoenix teased, slipping his case notes into his desk drawer. “You’re a nightmare.”

“You’re one to talk.” The corners of Edgeworth’s eyes crinkled as he looked over at him. “You can be so infuriating, but I do like working with you. I had fun today.”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow. “Fun? You?”

“I suppose age has softened me up.”

“I didn’t think anything could soften you up.”

“You’d be surprised. I often have fun when I’m with you. I always…” He trailed off, averting his eyes and gripping his elbow. “I’ve been… thinking, a bit. On our earlier conversation.”

So basically... Miles got preeetty close to confessing during their dinner in chapter 4, but kinda backed out at the last moment, and he’s been agonizing over this ever since. Because the way he interpreted their conversation was sort of “We both want to move forward into a relationship but don’t know how to take the steps to do so”, whereas Phoenix interpreted more as a consensus that “We could probably start a relationship and there are feelings there but it wouldn’t really work out so we just won’t ever talk about it”.

And Miles throughout this fic assumed that Phoenix has been in love with him for a while and only holding back for Miles’ own sake, and waiting for Miles to signal that he’s actually ready to move into a romantic relationship. ... Which is very much not the case. What makes today different though is that Miles got to watch Phoenix solve mysteries, and I’m of the opinion that Miles considers Phoenix at his most attractive when he is uncovering the truth!! so Miles pretty much just saw him solve this case and go “I must kiss this man on the lips Right Now” but thought he should clear some things up before he did that.

which is good because if he just walked up to Phoenix and kissed him without preamble I’m pretty sure Phoenix would have died, so.

Something imperceptibly changed in the atmosphere. It made Phoenix’s heart race faster in anticipation. “Oh? Which one?”

“The one we had during the last dinner we shared.”

“O-Oh.” That had been weeks ago. Surely Phoenix had forgotten something.

“Everything has changed so much, over the course of my career, between us.” Edgeworth’s eyes flickered up to him briefly before settling back down on the desk. “I’ve never been afraid of moving forward, but this, I want…” He exhaled, shakily. “Give me a minute. This is… difficult.”

Phoenix kind of... knows, subconsciously, where this is going, but he’s trying to deny it until the last minute because he’s very unprepared and has no idea how to deal with this... which will become very clear by the end of the scene.

Miles is tricky to write in a confession scene because he can be kind of weird with emotions? Sometimes he’ll give these Grand Speeches about how much That Man means to him but at the same time he struggled a lot with talking about his feelings during the trilogy and I think he’d still struggle with it now. Especially something as raw and vulnerable as a love confession.

And Miles is also someone who is, at least by the Investigations duology, determined to pursue what is Right and what is the Truth without any sort of hesitation. However pursuing Wright is different. (insert horrible forced laugh track)

“W-Well, don’t strain yourself,” Phoenix insisted. “We can talk another day. I-It’s getting late, after all, we should —”

“We should stop dancing around the issue.” Edgeworth’s eyes snapped up and locked with Phoenix’s, pinning him in place. “Don’t go easy on me now, of all times.”

oh man I have to admit I got really into Persona 5 Royal for like a few weeks around the time I was writing this and that “don’t go easy on me now of all times” is looosely inspired by a similar line in there that’s like “do you think I’d be happy with being shown mercy now, of all times?” because although it’s a different dynamic than narumitsu I was uh. intrigued.

... sorry it’s so vague I wanted to avoid spoilers anyways, moving on,

Phoenix’s mouth ran dry. Edgeworth couldn’t possibly be planning to —

“Everything has changed between us,” continued Edgeworth. “I want things to — to continue to change, I-I want to be closer, is—” He sucked a breath in through his teeth “— is it not obvious?”

Hadn’t they agreed, in that way they could agree without saying a word, that they were never going to talk about this?

Phoenix broke his gaze. “No. It’s not. I— I don’t want to argue with you. It’s late.”

Pretty much same as previous notes: Phoenix in extreme denial that this is actually happening whereas Miles is just trying to force it all out.

Phoenix is kind of trying to talk Miles down from confessing; Miles is sort of interpreting it as “Wright isn’t going to let me get away with not actually saying this so I need to be more direct.”

I’m sure that later when Miles is curled up on his bed wondering where he went wrong he’ll think of that :)

“Phoenix.”

The use of his first name forced Phoenix to look up again.

Edgeworth stared at him for a long time. There was something impossible swimming just under the surface of his grey eyes.

“Phoenix Wright,” he said. “I am in love with you.”

HE DID IT!! He’s so brave I’m sure that nothing can go wrong!!

Gossip was one thing. Lingering touches and stolen glances, Phoenix could deal with those. The knowledge that Edgeworth was interested in him in a not-so-platonic way… that was more than enough.

This, hearing Edgeworth say the words out loud, was another thing entirely. Even if Phoenix already knew. Nothing could have prepared him for — for whatever this was, for Edgeworth, looking at him all open and vulnerable, and — and saying —

“Wh… What…?”

Edgeworth tilted his head slightly to the side, causing his bangs to fall into his face. “Surely you’ve figured it out already?”

“I-I don’t understand…”

At first there was a line right after “Even if Phoenix already knew” that was “Even if he felt the same”, but then I decided to make it so Phoenix can’t even admit his feelings to himself, so I cut that one out.

Anyways this is shocking to Phoenix partially because of Denial but also because he didn’t expect Miles to actually come out and say something like this. He’s used to Miles being closed off with his emotions and doesn’t think him the type to ever directly acknowledge them, so it’s got him totally off guard, too. It’s unpredictable for someone who is supposed to know Miles so well so it’s very unnerving for him.

“I… I think you are incredible,” said Edgeworth. “Your single-minded dedication to truth and justice. Your compassion. Your mercy. The way you… brought light, brought life, back into my world. You can be so frustrating, and stubborn, but that’s part of why I have always admired you so much.” The corners of his eyes softened. “You saved me a thousand times over, and I want to spend the rest of my life by your side… however you want me.”

Miles generally people go on at least one date before proposing marriage but okay.

One thing I find interesting about Miles as a character is that he’s very much an all-or-nothing kind of person... he doesn’t ever really half-ass things and he doesn’t know how to do things gradually haha. He won’t allow the truth to be covered in darkness for even a moment even if it makes things easier for him in the long run. Saying “I think you’re great, maybe we should go on a few dates and see how things end up?” is probably the SENSIBLE thing to say, but Miles puts 100% of himself into everything that he does post-character development; and he’s secure enough in his relationship with Phoenix that he doesn’t really feel the need to test the waters. Plus Miles is allergic to uncertainty, so by the time he confesses he’d need to be absolutely certain that he loved Phoenix Wright and was prepared to pretty much go all in with him.

after all Phoenix feels the same way right!!

Phoenix stared. His heartbeat was reverberating in his ears. “I don’t know what to say. … Me.”

“Who else?”

“Who — a-anyone else. God, Edgeworth, what even is that shit, about me being i-intelligent, and dedicated, and compassionate, and — and — incredible, geez, I’m a wreck! I—” His voice wavered into a fit of near hysteria. “The only reason I’ve gotten this far is ‘cause I’ve always had amazing people by my side, and — and once they’re gone I’m back to whatever I usually am, I-I only have this one suit, I still haven’t got my freaking driver’s license, I don’t think I’ve eaten anything but instant meals in a month—”

(And he looked to Edgeworth, desperately, but Edgeworth was still gazing at him, expression gentle, gentle yet unyielding, not taking back his words or expressing an ounce of regret — why wasn’t he changing his mind —)

“You’re describing yourself more than me,” said Phoenix weakly. “Really, I’m not — I’m not like that, okay, I’m not…” He forced himself to take a deep breath. “Why are you telling me this?”

This is the one part that stayed consistent throughout all drafts of this scene haha. Some of it is echoes from what Godot told him back in Bridge to the Turnabout about him always needing someone to swoop in at the last minute to the rescue; others are sort of a loose refence to his behaviour during the beginning of RFTA and Reunion and Turnabout where he couldn’t really function without Maya there to look after.

This part sort of ties more into that objective I had with this chapter of contrasting how they see themselves; they both see each other as incredible people, because they don’t really get to see inside each other and see how much of a wreck they feel.

Also the very first sort of script of this confession had Phoenix saying “I thought you knew me better than this!” but that just seemed way too cruel for this haha.

“I know that I… that I have difficulty with these things,” said Edgeworth, fingers gripping the edge of the desk. “I’ve never been the most open of people and we’ve — we’ve always been so distant, for so long. I wasn’t there for you when I should have been, and I want that to change. Because, ever since we met… you’ve been such a major part of my life. I never thought I would live to be older than my father. I never thought I would be happy with myself. But you, you came into my life, and you changed all that.”

(That wasn’t you,) a voice in Phoenix’s heart whispered. (You only started it. The rest was all him.)

“But I don’t want to be satisfied with what I have right now. I still want more. There’s still a part of life I want to explore, and… I want to do it with you.”

(He’s always been fine without you. One day he’s going to realize it too, and then…)

“I’m tired of hiding my emotions and being too afraid to upset the status quo when it comes to relationships. I refuse to be scared of that anymore.”

(Why isn’t he scared, too?)

ugh this was the hardest part to write I think...? Trying to figure out a way to get Phoenix’s internal feelings across where it doesn’t come out of nowhere. I settled with a lot of internal thoughts that are just like... self-loathing, pretty much.

Meanwhile Miles has prepared this whole emotional monologue that Phoenix is only half listening to, basically about what a huge impact Phoenix has had in his life and how he’s sort of... now that he’s presumably made large steps to fixing the justice system he’s turning to more personal goals in life, and one of those goals is spending his life with Phoenix, if he can be brave enough to do it.

Phoenix isn’t paying attention though because he’s too busy panicking...

“Most of all, I… I couldn’t hide anything from you for long. I’d trust you with the world. You’re my equal, and my opposite.” Something resembling a shaky smile crossed Edgeworth’s face. “And I love you.”

me shoving the “theme of the day” in there awkwardly

But he smiles!! This is one of the rare occasions where Miles kind of does smile... there’s a lot of “almost-smile”s or brief smiles and Miles is scared out of his wits here but he’s happy. he finally got that off his chest. he was brave and he told Phoenix how he felt and they’ll be so, so happy together, nothing can possibly go wrong,

The words knocked out any breath Phoenix had managed to regain. His skin suddenly felt cold and clammy, and he was faced with vertigo more intense than standing on rooftops. What was happening to him?

There was something he was supposed to say to this. He should react to this normally. His mouth was drier than a desert. His tongue felt unsightly and awkward in his mouth.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you that if I have somehow misinterpreted, I won’t mention this again.” Unease and uncertainty flickered behind Edgeworth’s eyes. “And I would never be upset, as long as you tell me the truth. I want to take the next steps of my life with you. … Do you feel the same way?”

oh yeah this part was a little tricky too. Pretty much Phoenix is on the verge of a full-blown panic attack and cannot think of a response, even a nice polite rejection... and finally Miles starts realizing that something’s off, because before he was just running on adrenaline to try and get his feelings out that he didn’t stop to examine Phoenix’s reactions, otherwise he would’ve started overthinking and psyched himself out. But now that he got it out and seeing Phoenix pretty much in shock he’s starting to worry he’d made a mistake.

Also “unease and uncertainty” is definitely an “unnecessary feelings” reference because I’m shameless.

Yes, Phoenix wanted to say, yes, I do, and say what he felt, what he wanted. But the words wouldn’t come.

Why couldn’t he say it? It should be easy. If he truly wanted this, it should be as easy as breathing.

His vision swam with pink butterflies, he ran his tongue over the scars in his mouth, his breath caught jagged on the edges of chains —

Aaaand if either one of them had the magatama right now there would be the psyche-locks! I was gonna elaborate on this a lot but this is so far waaay longer than I intended so I’ll spare you and give a brief summary.

Essentially there are three locks. I wrote them as sort of representing each issue that Phoenix needs to acknowledge for them to break -- not necessarily fix, because that would be a super tricky thing, but acknowledging they’re there is a start. They’re pretty much “Trust”, “Abandonment”, and “Vulnerability”. Later I realized those issues are pretty much tied up in each other so instead I just made it so that each one is set by a traumatic event, and then acknowledging those events is what breaks them.

The first is an obvious “Dahlia and Iris really screwed up Phoenix’s ability to trust a partner romantically”. I love Iris but she really did mess him up as well. Phoenix kind of convinced himself he’s over this issue now since Iris was a good person! but really he’s still messed up about it. (And that’s where the butterflies + scars in his mouth sort of come from). Talking to Iris and acknowledging that he’s still hurting over it is what breaks this one.

The second is more directly related to all the times Miles himself has abandoned him particularly throughout the series. Some of the hurt when Miles prosecuted him in Turnabout Sisters, and definitely a lot regarding “Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth Chooses Death”, it’s pretty much him being scared to get /too/ attached to Miles because he fears Miles might abandon him again. This one breaks in chapter 7 when he has the whole realization that Miles might die and leave him regardless, and acknowledges how afraid he is of Miles leaving again.

And the last is more of acknowledging his need to be needed by people and help people but they move on without him and not don’t really him in their lives. This built up more gradually... with littler things like Apollo leaving the Agency and Maya not being around as much and Trucy moving out. Neither of these are Big Bad Traumatic Events like the other two but it’s still an issue Phoenix has that he needs to acknowledge. Trucy’s letter breaks this one by telling him he’s never going to be alone and they all love him and are there for him. And that’s why right after reading the letter he can tell Miles that he loves him.

So that’s that. Moving back to the actual story now...

“Phoenix?”

Edgeworth still stood so close, too close, and when Phoenix breathed his senses were assaulted by the scent of his cologne and — and he was too close, and his words were too much, Edgeworth couldn’t be in love with him. Attracted, sure, but love — how could he so easily say love?

This wasn’t like Edgeworth. This wasn’t how things were before, this wasn’t how things had always been, every time things changed too fast something would go wrong, every time things changed too fast Edgeworth would leave again —

(— and right now Edgeworth’s body was coiled tight with tension, like a spring, ready to take off at any sudden movement —)

— and Phoenix couldn’t say a word.

Fairly self-explanatory I think: basically acknowledging that fear that Miles is going to leave again.

Phoenix was standing on the edge of a turnabout. Somewhere he’d have to take the plunge for victory, for the truth. He’d never shied from them before. He’d always accepted the risks. And they’d (almost always) paid off.

But something had Phoenix in a vice. Dark chains that wrapped around his chest and constricted his lungs. Something that would drown him if he took the plunge. Something that whispered that he could not risk this, his heart and his life in one. There was too much to lose. It was all too much.

That little (almost always) there is referencing that one time he presented the critical case-changing evidence and got disbarred for it; his disbarment messed him up pretty bad too, I guess it’d fit in the category of the third psyche-lock.

And of course the second paragraph references the psyche-locks more directly before they actually show up.

The words came. They weren’t the ones he wanted.

“No,” said Phoenix. “No, I don’t.”

The rattling in Phoenix’s head cut out. Silence fell over the room.

Pretty much once Phoenix stops pressing the issue the psyche-locks stop shaking. I imagine they’re a pretty terrible thing to break directly; he can’t do it on his own like this.

“... I see,” said Edgeworth, and something snapped shut, drew tight, rigid, back to a statue. “I thought… nevermind.”

Miles kind of draws back into himself all tightly-controlled, less open than before, because that really hurt him a lot. He’d probably prefer it than Phoenix being all evasive and sort of reassuring because he prefers people just cut straight to the facts, but that was direct even for him.

And of course he thought that Phoenix did feel that way about him. He was certain of it. So hearing Phoenix didn’t and he was completely wrong is... not good.

He’d gone so still. At the sight of it, whatever spell was holding Phoenix in its grasp broke, and he came back to reality — this wasn’t right, this wasn’t good, he had to fix this, somehow, bring things back to the way they were, “Edgeworth—”

And the sight of Miles completely freezing up and closing himself off is enough to break Phoenix free of the initial panic, because he does care a lot about Miles, and seeing him withdraw worries him.

“It’s getting late,” said Edgeworth, and only someone as experienced as Phoenix could detect the waver in his voice. “Thank you for being honest with me, Wright. I’ll talk to you later.”

The remark stung worse than a knife would, he couldn’t let it end like this. “I—”

The office door shut, none too gently. Phoenix was alone.

“... I’m sorry.”

That “thank you for being honest with me” wasn’t SUPPOSED to be a jab, of course, because Miles would prefer that Phoenix was honest than lie to him. But Phoenix did lie and that’s what bothers Phoenix the most throughout the next couple of chapters; they both value the truth so highly that lying to each other is inconceivable.

And Miles probably should have stuck around for a bit and heard Phoenix out and maybe Phoenix could have managed a half-decent explanation of “okay I don’t know what that was but this was very sudden and I’m panicking, can you give me time to process?” but if Miles stayed for much longer he probably would have started breaking down and that’s the last thing he wants to do right now, especially in front of Phoenix, so he left as soon as possible.

I think he managed to repress enough that he could get home safely, but the moment he crossed the threshold into privacy he probably had himself a good cry... curled up on the couch and watched some Steel Samurai with a tub of ice cream... but he was pretty emotionally devastated by this. It took a lot of effort for him to open up and be honest about his feelings so just being shut down like that... hurt a lot. He’d never admit it though.

anyways I also have this short bit of writing I posted a while back about Miles actually getting a hug after all this, because he really needs one.

And that’s the scene!! I think I said more than enough so I’ll end it here haha.

#dvd commentary meme #the catch-up game #this one got SUPER long I'm SO sorry #asks

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cami-chats · 4 years ago

Text

Too Old

Fandom: Check Please!

Pairing: Kent “Parse” Parson/Connor “Whiskey” Whisk

Warnings: Age difference (but not underage)

On AO3

From Parse: You ever feel like you're robbing the cradle a little bit?

From Swoops: No, but that's bc my girlfriend's only like 2 years younger than me.

From Swoops: Perv.

From Parse: You're not helping.

From Parse: Besides, he's not THAT young. He started college when he was 20, not 18. He can legally drink.

From Swoops: Sounds like something a pedo would say.

From Parse: Fuck you.

From Parse: But seriously, do you think I'm too old for him?

From Swoops: Dude, I know nothing about him other than that he's in college and plays hockey (and now that he started college when he was 20). You won't tell me what he looks like, what he's studying, or which college he goes to. The 2 details I know kinda make it seem like yeah, you're too old for him.

Kent glared at his phone and locked it. Goddammit. That's what he'd been afraid of. It's not like he felt like an old man, but Whiskey felt so young sometimes. Mostly when he mentioned homework, because the last time Kent had done homework, he'd been seventeen-- which was definitely too young.

He called Whiskey to ask him about it, but it was only when it rang off to voicemail that he remembered there was a time difference and he hadn't even thought about Whiskey's schedule. He was in the middle of practice right now. He thought about sending a text to let him know what it was about, but if this was a conversation he wanted to have over text, he would've texted him to begin with. Whatever. It had been an impulse, anyways. And it was stupid, wasn't it? If Whiskey thought he was too old, they wouldn't have gotten together. If Whiskey had thought it was fine at first but changed his mind later, then he would've said something. Whiskey didn't exactly keep that sort of shit locked down-- he'd told Kent the instant that he put on cologne that he hated the smell.

Kent was probably just being paranoid.

He'd been perfectly fine with their relationship and the age difference thing until some dipshit wrote an article on Zimms and Bittle's relationship, claiming that Bittle was too young and being taken advantage of. Kent and Zimms were the same age, and Whiskey and Bittle were the same age, so if Zimms was too old for his boyfriend, then Kent was too old for his. Not that Kent really thought it was the same. Bittle was graduating soon-- he was pretty sure-- and Whiskey still had a couple semesters left. Zimms and Bittle had played together. Gone to college together for two years before anything happened.

Comparatively, it did feel like Kent was taking advantage of a young fan. It was weird to think of Whiskey like that, but technically that's what he was: a fan. Whiskey had come up to compliment him on his game when they were in the same bar, and Kent had been tipsy enough to think it was a good idea to flirt. It had all worked out, of course, but that had been pretty damn stupid of him.

Kent kept running it over in his mind: it wasn't a big deal-- this was different than what Zimms was up to-- maybe Kent should take a step back-- but did Whiskey give a shit?-- maybe he shouldn't worry about it. He just went in circles, only jarred out of it when his phone started to ring. "Hey babe," Kent said automatically after sliding it to answer.

"Hey, what's up?"

"You're the one that called me," Kent said, frowning.

"Some people call this returning a phone call," Whiskey said dryly. "You didn't leave a message, so I figured it was serious."

"Oh." Shit. "Um, no, nothing serious. I'd forgotten you were at practice, so I called, but it's nothing big. Spur of the moment thing, you know?"

"It's chill. What's up?"

"Uhh." Kent made a face at nothing in particular. "Nothing."

"Doesn't sound like nothing."

"Yeah, well, it's nothing, stop being a chick about it. I said it was no big deal," Kent said, then immediately winced.

The silence on the other end of the phone was damning. "Right," Whiskey said tightly.

"Sorry. That was- ten kinds of fucked up."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry," Kent said again.

"Whatever," Whiskey muttered. He let out a deep breath, and it crackled a little bit through the speaker. "Have a good game."

"Will you be watching?" Kent asked. Normally he didn't feel the need to check. Any time Whiskey didn't watch one of his games, he told him in advance-- the same way that Kent watched as many of Whiskey's games as he could and told him to have a good game before all of them.

"I always do."

"Yeah, but I didn't know if you'd still- yeah, uh, thanks. Love you."

"...Yeah," Whiskey said, then hung up.

Kent brought his phone away from his face and wanted to bash his head against the wall. Whiskey didn't always say it back because he was usually in public or around his friends when they had a quick call like that, but this had felt different. Whether it was because of Kent being a fuck-up or something else, he had no idea, but he sincerely hoped it was because of him freaking out for no good fucking reason, because then it would mean that he'd be forgiven pretty soon. If it was something else, that would mean dealing with it in addition to dealing with the age difference thing that he was freaking out over. And he still wasn’t sure that he actually wanted to talk to Whiskey about it. He knew he had to, especially after the mess he’d just made of a twenty second phone call. He just. Didn’t want to.

He tapped the corner of his phone against his head as he thought. Maybe Swoops had been right and Whiskey was too young for him, but that wasn't what ever went wrong with their relationship. If they had issues, it was because of, well, who Kent was. Not to say that Whiskey was a saint, but he was more deliberate. They didn't get in fights because of shit he said, because Whiskey didn't talk out of his ass any time he was feeling a little insecure. He locked down-- which was its own issue-- but he didn’t snap at Kent.

Kent sighed and opened his text conversation with Whiskey. The age difference thing wasn’t the problem. He’d been due for a freak out.

From Kent: Sorry.

From Kent: Saw an article about athletes dating people younger than them and how it was skeevy and kinda flipped.

From Kent: Still kinda freaking out tbh.

From Kent: (Swoops was totally unhelpful)

From Kent: Probably should've just said it but I didn't want for you to freak out too.

From Kent: Not that you freak out very often.

From Whiskey: I freak out all the time who tf have you been dating.

From Kent: You don't freak out ALL THE TIME.

From Whiskey: This morning I panicked because I didn't have the exact change for my coffee. I had enough to pay for it, but using another nickel instead of two pennies made it hard to breathe. Does that really sound like I'm not freaking out?

Kent started typing a couple different times then deleted what he had. He tapped on Whiskey's contact info, then hit call.

"Hey."

"Did you really freak out over two pennies?" Kent asked. He should've led with something more sensitive, but he was who he was.

"Yeah. Not my finest moment."

"I didn't mean what I said before."

"I know," Whiskey mumbled. "I don't know what to do when you get like that, though. Normally I hang up, and the next time we talk, you're fine."

"If it helps, I don't know what to do when I get like that either. I just wait it out."

"I was kind of hoping you'd have a plan of action for me."

"I wish I had one too," Kent said, blowing out a breath. It was annoying when he acted like that, and he knew it was annoying, but he couldn't get himself to stop. It meant that every so often, they'd do this: Kent would say something shitty, things would be awkward, and after waiting a little bit, he'd apologize.

"What was the article?" Whiskey asked, and Kent had to think back for a moment to remember what he was talking about.

"Oh. That. It was about Zimms and Bittle. And I was thinking that we're the same age, and you and Bittle are the same age, so..."

Whiskey snorted. "No offense, but we're nothing like them. They live, like, an hour away from each other."

"And they went to college together."

"Are you being weird because you regret not going to college?" Whiskey guessed. Kent brought it up often enough that he figured there was something there.

"No. I mean, what would be the point? I'm not good at school, and I would've ended up in the league anyways. It'd be fun if we could play on the same team though. Not that you're planning on playing professionally anyways," Kent mumbled.

"Yeah," Whiskey said, but something in his tone was off. Kent was pretty sure he was staring at the floor in a very particular way right now.

"What?"

"I don't think anyone would want me as a free agent instead of the draft. I chose to skip that, and..." Whiskey snorted. "I'm not Jack fucking Zimmermann. All the teams wanted to sign him on, but that doesn't happen to everyone."

"You're selling yourself short. There have been scouts at the Samwell games."

"Not for the NHL."

"Tons of players work their way up to it."

"Yeah," Whiskey said noncommittally. "You know I don't give a shit that you're older than me, right?"

Kent wanted to say that yes, of course he had known that, but the truth was that he hadn't-- not for sure-- so he just chewed on his lip and stayed quiet.

"I don't care about that. It's not like you're forty or something-- that'd be pretty weird."

"Swoops said he thought it was weird," Kent said without really meaning to. It was a good thing he said it though, because he'd sort of been freaking out about it before, but after talking to Swoops, he'd gone more firmly towards panicking.

"Isn't Swoops dating an influencer right now?"

"Yeah, but she's only like a year younger than him."

"Kent," Whiskey said flatly. "He's dating someone that is basically a low level model on Instagram. He doesn't have room to judge who you're dating if he's making shit decisions like that."

"Haley's not that bad." She was pretty nice, actually. Nicer than Kent was-- not that that was saying much.

"Yeah, well when he finds a girlfriend who's a grown ass adult with a 401k and a retirement plan, he can say I'm too young for you and I'll believe it."

"So you don't think we're too different?"

"We've got more in common with each other than those two," Whiskey said with a snort.

"Yeah." Tension started to seep out of him, leaving him boneless with relief. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry for ruining your afternoon."

"You didn't ruin anything. You busy right now or did you want to keep talking? Foxtrot invited me and Tango to a rehearsal and it was hilarious."

"Not busy. Tell me all about actors and their shenanigans."

"Did you really just use the word shenanigans?"

"Um. Yes? I thought it was fitting."

"Oof. Never mind. I've changed my mind, you're way too old for me."

"Hey, respect your elders," Kent snarked back.

#check please #whiskey/kent #kent parson #connor whisk #fanfic #my writing

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officialthiamlibrary · 5 years ago

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2019 THIAM REVERSE BIG BANG MASTERLIST

Below is the masterlist of all of the creations by the amazing artists and writers for the Thiam Reverse Big Bang… four months of fantastic work, preparation, organization and collaboration between the creators are in this list, and we’ll never stop shouting about how thankful we are to everyone who participated this year for the work that you’ve put in to these!!

Some of those participating were even creating for other events (including our Halloween event) in between this one… and they still have these fantastic works ready to show everyone... so PLEASE show them some love for their hard work by commenting, reblogging, and giving likes/kudos/comments where you can! <3

All fics are arranged by the date each collaboration was scheduled for posting, titles for both each artwork and fic will take you to each individual creators post.

Special Thanks to @manonisamelon for creating this event’s roundup banner!

16 December 2019

The Price of Freedom + Artwork 1, 2

Author: @volsungar-the-mighty Artist: @moondrunkmonster56

[41k Words | Rated: M | No Warnings]

When the McCall pack find out that Mason is the Beast of Gevaudan, the Dread Doctors plans go awry, and Theo is left in the firing line. He goes on the run, only to be captured and paralyzed by them before he gets too far.

Liam, a Fallen Angel turned demon, is convinced to leave hell for the first time since his Fall. When he comes across Theo, paralysed, wounded, and about to be tortured and punished by the Dread Doctors, he offer's the Chimera a deal.

Theo's freedom, in exchange for his soul. But something goes wrong when Liam makes the deal a reality, and he becomes stuck on Earth with Theo.

And thats when the fun begins.

~~~

Making The Pieces Fit + Fic Aesthetic , Thiam’s Story Aesthetic , Aesthetic for Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4,

Author: @bookwyrm07 Artist: @manonisamelon

[7.5k Words | Rated: Teen and Up | No Warnings]

When Theo was hired to rob a bank he knew he could do it, but now that two of his crew have taken themselves out his only option left is to get help from his ex.

~~~~~

17 December 2019

Eyes Unclouded + Artwork 1, 2

Author: @wolfenboyb Artist: @marauders-mess

[6.5k Words | Rated: General Audiences | No Warnings]

Inspired by Princess Mononoke... Theo leaves his remove village after it is attacked by a mysterious dark god. Cursed, he ventures out into the world to discover the source of unbalance in the land. He discovers a wolf prince at war with an encroaching town of humans making iron out of sand and destroying the sacred forest. As tensions rise, Theo must find a way to end the conflict and protect the one he loves

Archive Tags: AU | Inspired by Princess Mononoke

Those Who Wait + Artwork 1, Aesthetic 1, 2 , 3

Author: @lovelylittlegrim Artist: @tabbytabbytabby

[6.5k Words | Rated: Explicit | No Warnings]

Theo finally gets what he's always wanted.

Like The Trembling Heart Of A Captive Bird + Artwork 1, 2 , 3

Author: @impalachick Artist: @osirismind

[9.5k Words | Rated: Explicit | Warnings: Underage]

Liam is head boy for the Juniors at Beacon Hills Preparatory Academy, and Senior Theo Raeken gets in trouble a lot. They don't exactly get along.

Everything changes when Gerard Argent shows up. Liam finds out that the supernatural seniors are to be drafted and sent to Vietnam on Gerard’s orders. Liam is determined to keep the pack safe and is surprised when Theo agrees to help. When they work together, Liam realizes there is much more to Theo Raeken then the bad boy stereotype implies.

*The underage tag is checked because in this story, Liam is 17 (and Theo is 18). There is discussion about the Vietnam War Draft Lottery and the drafting process, and the pack seniors face the stress of possibly getting drafted.

~~~~~

18 December 2019

All The Broken Pieces (you chose to love) + Artwork 1, 2

Author: @flyde Artist: @marauders-mess

[22k Words | Rated: Mature | No Warnings]

Life fell to pieces, not suddenly, not violently, but slowly. Softly, the broken parts were caught. Safely, they were held. Lovingly, they were protected, although they could never be put back together.

Or: a childhood friends to tragic lovers AU

The Strangeness In You Is The Strangeness In Me + Artwork 1, Artwork 2, Artwork 3

Author: @eneiryu Artist: @18-sweet-poisoned-heart

[28k Words | Rated: Teen and Up | No Warnings]

Theo’s life is never boring, considering where he works, but he’d have to say that his job doesn’t truly get exciting until the day that their entire station gets taken hostage by the Fae King of Northern California, pissed off that Theo arrested his murderous little protégé prince.

(Not) Dying For Brew + Artwork

Author: @nabawrites Artist: @snaeken

[7k Words | Rated: Teen and Up | No Warnings]

Liam graduated from college, and now he’s back in Beacon Hills. He didn’t expect to run into Theo again, especially not in a coffee shop. It stirs up some old feelings he hadn’t ever really forgotten about…

~~~~~

19 December 2019

When the Day Met Night + Artwork

Author: @imjustafangirl-nobodylovesme Artist: @lightfiretomypaperwings

[8.2k Words | Rated: Teen | No Warnings]

The day finally arrives where Theo is told he's officially joining the family business. He's not happy to hear the news. Life under his father's thumb is a nightmare come true.

On his last day of freedom, he meets Liam Dunbar, a human ray of sunshine that changes everything.

Archive Tags: Original Genderfluid Character | Organized Crime | Mob Boss's son Theo | Photographer Liam | Theo and Tara hate their lives

Saw the shadow of the valley but the shadow was mine + Artwork

Author: @eneiryu Artist: @colder-bones

[17.3k Words | Rating: Mature | No Warnings]

No one ever trusts Theo, but then again: they’re not supposed to. It’s Liam they never see coming.

Archive Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence | Dread Doctor Spy!Liam

Caput Mortuum + Artwork

Author: @imjustafangirl-nobodylovesme Artist: @moondrunkmonster56

[16.3k Words | Rating: Teen | No Warnings]

Liam had pretty much resigned himself to never leaving his home, but then HE moved in. Or

The one where Liam is a ghost (but not really) and Theo buys the house he haunts (but not really).

~~~~~

20 December 2019

Melting The Ice + Artwork

Author: @extrasteps Artist: @snaeken

[30k Words | Rated: Mature | No Warnings]

Liam's entire world is shaken up when Scott McCall, the captain of the Los Angeles Rams and Liam's mentor at the club, unexpectedly asks to be traded to the Dallas Stars. As Liam struggles to deal with this in both his personal and professional life, his teammate and friend, Theo Raeken, is there to help him in any way he can.

Archive Tags: Ice Hockey AU | Liam doesn't handle his ied very well | Scott is a prick (sorry) | First Kiss

The Memory + Artwork 1, 2

Author: @tabbytabbytabby Artist: @lovelylittlegrim

[5k Words | Rated: Teen and Up | No Warnings]

When Theo's away and can't reach Liam he gets worried. Especially when neither Liam's parents nor Mason will give him answers. When he gets back to Beacon Hills he's able to quickly find Liam. The only problem is, Liam has no idea who he is.

Be Free With Me + Video

Author: @ethereal--jeonghan Artist: @underthegallowws

[20k Words | Rated: Mature | Graphic Depictions Of Violence]

After being recaptured and dragged back to Eichen House, the place he's been running from for years, Theo vows to do whatever he can to escape instead he finds himself being drawn towards Liam, someone who was deemed as a 'high-level threat' within Eichen.

~~~~~

21 December 2019

You Just Need To See The Signs (Quite Literally) + Artwork

Author: @marauders-mess Artist: @wolfenboyb

[9.5k Words | Rated: Teen and Up | No Warnings]

Liam is used to not notice most things.

Like when Mason gets a new shirt or his mom gets a new haircut.

The usual, y'know.

But not noticing he got a boyfriend is kind of a new level, even for him.

Blue + Artwork

Author: @flyde Artist: @li0nh34rt

[10k Words | Rated: Teen and Up | No Warnings]

Every werewolf has a soulmate.

Every werewolf has a soulmate, and this is how it happens: On every day you spend on earth, the stars move a little closer together above your head until they form a line - the curve of a closed eye that will one day open to look upon you. From that day on, you will have someone to watch over you in life and death, and you will never feel complete without the soul that the eye belongs to.

But what if your soulmate's eye opens to reveal something you didn't expect?

You've Got Nothing Left To Lose (I Have Even Less Than You) + Artwork

Author: @snaeken Artist: @theraeken

[3.5k Words | Rated: Mature | Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death]

After everything that’s happened in Beacon Hills, Theo really shouldn’t be surprised soulmates exist. He just never thought he would have one of his own.

(Still to be completed, word count below is as of 1st chapter)

Archive Tags: Soulmates | Time Loop | Temporary Character Death

~~~~~

22 December 2019

Darkened Skies + Poster, Aesthetic for the fic, Theo aesthetic, Liam aesthetic, Liam with his dragon tattoo, Theo with his dragon tattoo, Theo and his dragon

Author: @lightfiretomypaperwings Artist: @manonisamelon

[3k Words | Rated: Teen and Up | No Warnings]

In a world where black dragons are a sign of evil, Theo Raeken was automatically an outcast. Coupled with a tragedy from his childhood that he was responsible for, it was easy to understand why everyone was afraid of him. But not Liam Dunbar, the friend from childhood that Theo hasn’t seen since the fire that claimed his family.

Archive Tags: Dragons | alternative universe

I don’t suffer from my sanity, I enjoy every minute of it + Artwork

Author: @lightfiretomypaperwings Artist: @moondrunkmonster56

[8.4k | Rated: Teen | No Warnings]

When Theo Raeken became the new therapist at Eichen House, he didn’t expect a collection of secrets. His high priority patient, Liam Dunbar, won’t speak a word to him during their sessions. But when Theo uncovers a stash of notes from a previous doctor, he finds more questions than answers.

Archive Tags: Eichen | Echo House | insane asylum | Secrets | Alternate Universe

Your heart or mine (we’re running out of time) + Artwork

Author: @lightfiretomypaperwings Artist: @snaeken

[3.8k | Rated Teen | No Warnings]

Theo Raeken knows it’s a long shot. Finding the heart of immortality feels like an impossible task, but it’s an adventure he has to pursue if he wants to survive. He doesn’t expect to meet Liam Dunbar along the way, a man with a record of violence that wants the heart just as badly. When circumstances force them to work together, Theo discovers there’s a whole lot more to Liam than his mercenary past. Can these two manage to get along on their quest or will they tear each other apart?

Archive Tags: Treasure Hunt | some steampunk vibes | Enemies to Friends to Lovers | Angst | Alternate Universe

And that’s it! Thanks again for a great event and we will see you all at the next one ;P

OTL Team

#thiam #thiamrbb19 #teen wolf #theo raeken #liam dunbar #officialthiamlibrary

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louadorable126 · 4 years ago

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Demons(you).me - A DMC Cyberpunk AU (Chapter 4)

Click here to Read over on Ao3! :D

—————————————————————————

Summary:

In a city controlled by the generally altered race of Demons, Lady's life as a mercenary on the lower floor was never easy. Especially when she ran into Dante. A demon on the hunt for his missing brother.

—————————————————————————

Important information!

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Realtionships: Dante x Lady, Vergil x Lady

Characters: Lady (Devil May Cry), Dante (Devil May Cry), Vergil (Devil May Cry) Morrison (Devil May Cry), Nell Goldstien (Devil May Cry) Eva (Devil May Cry), Sprada (He’s mentioned bless him), Mundus (Also Mentioned)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Genetic Engineering, Sci-fi Fantasy, Strip Clubs and Strippers, Dystopia, Seizures, Flirting, Eva and Sprada are alive! :D, Human Experimentation, Cults.

—————————————————————————

Chapter 4

“Hey, so what is it actually like working for the demonic military?” Lady asked curiously, as the trio strolled down a familiar alleyway. A gentle morning breeze blowing through the cramped corridor between the large buildings towering above them.

Despite the overwhelming exhaustion she felt from being rudely woken at the crack of dawn by the ghostly Specter of Vergil standing over her in the dark. Seriously, for someone who was supposedly well-bred, the guy had no clue what "personal space" meant! He’d scared the shit out of her!. Then being dragged onto a train to the lower city, alongside an equally sleep deprived Dante - who took the opportunity to loudly vocalise his annoyance at Vergil’s spartan attitude. Lady had to admit that morning walks certainly had a certain peaceful serenity to them.

She had become so accustomed to her busy morning commute to Morrison’s bar - always having people bashing into her as they ran past her, or the sheer overwhelming noise of people’s everyday lives washing over her - that she had forgotten that peaceful silence could exist in the city. This was certainly one of those times. As nothing, aside from the group's footsteps tapping against the concrete floor below them, which even had a certain calming hypnotic beat to it, resounded in the nearby area.

“I’d think it's not much different to your career as a Mercenary.” Vergil said eloquently. Looking over at Lady beneath the shadows of his blue hood.“Every week, me and Dante are given several different assignments to complete by our superiors. We can’t be sent off onto the battlefield for another two years, so our father arranged for us to do peacekeeping at home.”

“Yeah, and we don’t get paid jackshit for doing it.” Dante moaned on the other side of her. "Think of it like annoying homework if anything, babe!”

“Huh.” Lady remarked. Surprised at how mundane they made such an extraordinary job sounded. If these kinds of thrilling adventures were what they did day in day out, it seemed amazing they had time for anything else! "Wait, so did you guys ever go to school? Or are you Demons only taught military stuff?”

“We were formally educated until we were around 16. Unfortunately…duty called for us to depart.” Vergil’s nasally voice began to fade near the end. He grew deathly silent, coming to an abrupt halt as his grip on Yamato tightened; falling behind the rest of the group.

When the pair realised he wasn’t with them, they quickly spun around. Finding Vergil standing there, his body tense as he gazed down at his boots. His pale face was completely obscured by the hood of his coat. It seemed he could sense their concerned gazes, as he quickly looked up again. His regal features schooled into an emotionless facade. Yet, Lady could’ve sworn she saw a glint of insecurity and immense hurt, hidden away in those glacier eyes of his, as he began to walk over to them. Then right past the pair. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Lady watched him hurry off down the street ahead of them. Disappearing moments later, when the tail end of his deep blue coat vanished out of sight behind the building at the end of the alleyway.

“What’s up with him?” She asked, turning her head towards Dante. Confused as to why Vergil would have such a distressing reaction to a rather simple question.

“Oh boy.” Dante muttered to himself. Letting out a long sigh, as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. “Well...to put a long story short, Verge wanted to stay on for higher education rather than joining the demonic military full time."

“Really?” To say Lady was surprised by such a revelation was an understatement. She was utterly gobsmacked. Never in her wildest dreams thought the stoic, battle-hardened demon would care for the intellectual. Let alone try to pursue it! He’d seemed perfectly content flaunting his flawless combat ability at every opportunity, from what she had seen of the demon so far.

“Yeah! He’s always been into books and learning since for as long as I can remember, so he wanted to go off and study English. Only issue is Dad’s position in the Emperor’s court meant that we had to go serve in the military as a show of ‘good will’ to Mundus.” Lady could practically hear the biting sarcasm in Dante’s words. “God, you should have seen him when he heard the news! Practically grabbed Dad’s knees and begged him in tears to let him stay on.”

“And he obviously didn’t?” Lady asked softly, just as the pair rounded the street corner.

“Yeah, Dad said his hands were tied and he couldn’t do anything about it.” Dante sighed, shaking his head dismay at the unpleasant memory. “I think Vergil understands now why Dad was kinda stuck in a Catch-22. But he didn’t talk for him for months until he got sent off to Vigrid."

“Wait, so is that why he’s acting like a stuck up prick? Because he’s annoyed at the world?” Lady hypothesised. She wasn’t exactly a psychologist, but she thought it was interesting to think about these things when dealing with people so damn weird.

“Nah! Vergil's always been like that!” Dante chuckled. Patting her on the shoulder like she were his dumb little sister. Much to Lady’s annoyance. “Doubt he’s ever going to change! So you better get used to it!"

“Great.” Lady sighed. It seemed the true nature of the aloof blue demon would remain an enigma to her, for the time being.

The pair soon arrived outside the now abandoned tattoo parlour. It didn’t look all that different since the last time Dante had been here. But, he could clearly see the tale-tell signs of the clean up crews presence here. Mainly, the lack of blood stains, dead bodies, and the distinct chemical smell of bleach in the air was the biggest clue.

From the looks of it, his twin had already gone inside. The front door had been left wide open for a steady draft to blow in black dust off the street, and into the building.

“Well this place certainly looks like a quick way to get blood poisoning!” Lady commented slyly. Peaking through the cracked windows of the tattoo parlour at its shoddy equipment. She began to stroll over to the entrance. “No wonder then cult decided to use it as a front-“

All of a sudden, Dante rushed past her and stood in the open doorway. Stretching his arms out so that he was holding either side of the worn door frame. Blocking her path.

“Hey Lady, can you wait outside for a bit?” Dante asked in a serious voice. Utterly devoid of the usual devil-may care energy it always had.

Immediately alarm bells started going off in the Mercenaries' head. Something wasn’t right here. She’d never seen Dante act like this before about anything they did. He’d never barred her from following him into certain danger. Nor had he ever kept any kind of major secret from her. Which given his current status as a Half-breed he probably should've done. But if anything that clarity between them had been a show of trust! (Ok, that and her stumbling onto that roof. In retrospect, Vergil probably hadn’t meant that little secret for her ears.)

Hell, it was normally her being the one to keep his sorry ass in check, and keeping him from doing anything stupid! And this abandoned tattoo parlour certainly didn’t seem dangerous in the slightest! What? Was she going to get a bruised knee if she tripped up? Maybe a slight cut on a shard of broken glass! She could handle that! She’d certainly had worse in her time! So what on earth was Dante playing at?

“Why?” Lady interrogated coldly, looking up at the handsome face hidden beneath his crimson hood. “Look, if this is because some super secret demon bullshit, I don’t really care. I’m not going to tell anyone-“

“No, it's not that.” The demon said, shaking his head. A few loose locks of flowing white hair falling out of his hood, as a concerned look grew on his features. One which certainly fit Vergil’s identical face more than it did his.

“Well what is it then?” Lady demanded. Growing more infuriated every passing second. She put a hand on his chest and tried to push past him. He wouldn’t budge. "Seriously! Just tell me Dante! Its fine-"

“Lady…when we were assigned to take out the cult's operations here. It was because they were doing illegal demonic conversions.” Dante explained slowly. Cringing internally as he watched the mercenary freeze up, deathly still, at the news. Her heterochromatic eyes blank and emotionless as she seemingly started into nothingness, or perhaps a not so pleasant memory from the past. Her small frame trembling ever so slightly, as she reached a shaky hand up and grabbed a fistful of her dark hair. Clutching it tightly. Rapid breaths escaping her parched mouth.

Dante hated to watch her breakdown. Here he was, standing here like a complete idiot while she suffered. It's what he had been desperately trying to avoid, for crying out loud! All his tact and dissuasion utterly useless in the end. But, he knew there was nothing he could do about it now. The truth was already out in the open now. All he could really do was place a gentle, warm hand on her shoulder and keep talking. Hoping that it would draw her back to reality. “I know your sensitive about that stuff 'cause of what your old man did-“

“I understand.” Lady suddenly responded in a serious voice, tinged with shakiness. She tilted her head up so she was looking at the red demon face on, a determined look to her features. Their eyes met. "I’ll guard the entrance until you get back.”

Wordlessly, Lady backed away from the door without any further argument. She swung her heavy rocket launcher off her back, and then sat herself down on the shop's doorstep. Back turned away from Dante, as her heavy weaponry rested peacefully on her lap. Taking solemn vigil like the original guard who had stood there. Her chestnut hair blowing gently in the wind.

Seeing this as a sign Lady wanted to be left in peace. Dante around turned and took a step forward onto the shop floor.

"Thanks Dante.” Lady called out softly from behind him. He quickly spun back around at her words. Only to find the young woman still turned away from him, as she looked out down the street.

For all he knew he could have imagined it. But something about that voice made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He was touched by her words in a way. Knowing that this was her genuine gratitude towards him, untouched by any sarcastic banter that had constituted too much of their short relationship. Dante felt proud that he’d done something to help her, and make up for the mistakes of their first night together.

"No worries, babe. See you in a bit.” He replied, smiling slightly. Before heading into the building.

--------------

Click here to read more over on Ao3! :D

#devil may cry #dmc #dante sparda #vergil sparda #lady dmc #dante #vergil #dmc dante #dmc vergil

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blookmallow · 5 years ago

Text

and now we return to outlast 2, where-

THINGS KEEP GETTING SO, SO MUCH WORSE

(i have... a LOT im trying to process about this whole section sorry for upcoming text walls. really nasty #blood / #gore in here as well though) (i didnt realize i was This far behind on liveblogs lmao i drafted this. a while ago and didnt get back to it until now)

---

so i fell off the bridge (shock. horror. who could have predicted this) and right into the scalled village

what.............happened to you

fuCKING GO D

so it turns out “the scalled” are... some kind of leper colony banned from the town and left to fester and rot out here alone

most of them are just lying around suffering and dying, i dont know what the fuck happened to them, there’s some mention of like. wildly untreated syphilis/potentially other stds they’re being told is their curse for the sins they’ve committed but does.... syphilis do that to you. it might actually be leprosy i dont know i dont want to research this. all i can think about is when i watched jesus christ superstar in high school and the leper colony song where they’re all crowding around jesus all trying to touch him REALLY freaked me out for a while

i mean its like. probably a combination of disease left horrifically untreated and massively infected given the absolutely appalling conditions these people are living in (everything’s run down and full of blood and shit and who knows what else), starvation, who knows what they’re even finding to eat out here so that’s probably causing even more disease but still jesus christ

at first it just made me really sad, sure these people came from temple gate too so they were. fucked up cultists to begin with but a lot of this is like... result of longterm emotional and mental abuse and manipulation, some of these people might not have started out as depraved evil murderers, and like. nobody deserves to live like this. except knoth lmao throw him down here, but

so i thought maybe it would turn out that you realize they’re human too, they’re just in a fucking LOT of pain and maybe you can’t do anything to help them (i dont think there’s any hope for anyone down here at this point) but maybe they’d turn out to be on my side and do something to help me fight back against the leader who abandoned them, “the most absolutely fucked up looking people are actually the most human” kind of thing but uh. that is not how things went. at all,

ill get into How Fucking Bad this got in a second lmao but like

most of them dont really do anything to you other than bleed on you and beg you for help, some people lash out but thats like, understandable given the horrifying state they’re in, but

as it turns out, being the “scalled messiah” is a VERY bad thing, they went from occasionally lashing out at me to outright tracking me down to murder me to death which, like, honestly kind of disappointing

bc one of the things i liked the most about the first outlast was how many of the prisoners were clearly just victims too, some of them (lookin at you, naked twin guys,) were just evil and murderous but some of them were just very very mentally unwell (exacerbated by horrible living conditions and the fact that the people who were supposed to be protecting them and helping them recover were actively, intentionally working to make their symptoms worse) and couldn’t really be blamed for acting violently toward you, but

then sometimes there’s people who warn you about dangers ahead, people sitting in corners hiding and scared and wont hurt you unless you give them a reason to think you might be a threat, people just trying to stay alive, people who need help

but that’s. not the case here, and there’s definitely a particular kind of horror in “absolutely no one in this hell town can be trusted, nobody will help me, everyone here wants to hurt me and every time i think ive made any kind of progress it gets so much worse” (except that ONe guy who tried to protect me. im still sad about him) but. i dont know i feel like there’s a missed opportunity here. im not sure if im supposed to feel like the scalled deserve to be like this because of the kind of people they were before, but i dont. i feel like the “what the fucking shit HAPPENED to these people” horror is heightened by the realization that they’re people, and just kinda using them as attack zombies is. missing something, somehow. i dont know, i cant figure out how to word what i want to say here

i mean its absolutely fucking horrifying, i was scared out of my mind going through all this, and i still gotta give props to a video game experience that left me legitimately feeling like i needed to go take a shower and crawl under a blanket for a while

i guess ultimately with outlast im coming here to be scared shitless more than anything else and boy did they ever fucking deliver

ok im gonna stop bc i will keep talking in circles about this forever if i dont, moving on

WHAT EVEN ARE THESE GUYS, APART FROM COMPLETELY TERRIBLE

im guessing theres some kind of... inbreeding birth defect situation going on here but i cant even process what im looking at

that and its hard to look at them at all considering the only times i see them im getting murdered to death. my panicked screenshots hoping to get a better look later did not help

PRETTY SURE THEY JUST MADE HIM DRINK THEIR BLOOD,

how the fuck has my dude not thrown up like 90 times already. im glad he hasnt bc im bad emetophobia but outlast 1 did it so im honestly surprised that hasnt happened unless ive just forgotten it in the blur of nightmares im going through here

THAT’S... NOT GOOD

THAT IS REALLY, REALLY NOT GOOD

FUCK SHIT MOTHERFUCKING FUCK

i gotta say im impressed with how FAR they GO with this one, i have no idea how much game i have left but considering this isnt even the ending i am HORRIFIED to see what the fuck is gonna happen next

i mean outlast 1 has you getting your fucking fingers sliced off and whistleblower has. That Scene (even though like. it stops before waylon actually gets cut its REALLY CLOSE)

this whole time i kept thinking something would happen and they’d get interrupted, I’d escape somehow, they aren’t really going to have the player character get literally fucking crucified from your own perspective,

but then the nails go in

and you’ve got one hand literally nailed to a cross

and then they start the other one

and i was like, WOW FUCK, THEY ACTUALLY DID IT, BUT NOW HE’LL ESCAPE... SOMEHOW.... RIGHT ???

but they lift it up

and you’re hanging there

and for a second i legitimately thought it was gonna end there for him, i thought he was actually just going to die there and the game would continue with lynn or something (which, to be fair, would be a pretty cool twist, but i dont WANT blake to just die here like this)

ANYWAY!! FUCKING GOD, THAT SURE HAPPENED

but against all odds HE SOMEHOW DIDNT FUCKING DIE, and managed to find the strength to rIP HIS HANDS OUT OF THE NAILS AND FALL DOWN

i cannot fucking IMAGINE what that would feel like. i dont want to imagine it but i sure the fuck am now

i dont know if its possible to like. die from bleeding out in this scene if you dont find the bandages fast enough but it sure felt like i was going to

fucking hell i can practically feel it in my real hands i HATE THIS i HATe it

god. fuck. im gonna be thinking about this scene for the rest of my life i didnt think anything would ever be worse than the finger slicing scene in outlast 1 but this. i think this wins

wHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?!??? THERES SOMETHING CHASING ME IN THE SCHOOL FLASHBACKS NOW IM NOT EVEN SAFE HERE ANYMORE

WHAT *IS* THAT??!??

w OA h

i still have no IDEA whats going on with these flashbacks either, clearly his classmate hung herself and he feels subconsciously responsible for it because he didn’t do anything to stop her (though it doesn’t sound like he Could have done anything, and. they were kids), there’s definitely some buried trauma he never dealt with thats resurfacing now but

i still dont think its just a manifestation of trauma, because like. the recordings are still coming out as fucked up static, if he was just having really intense hallucinations there wouldn’t be any record on the camera, it would just be him filming nothing and talking to himself through a panic attack, it wouldn’t be getting consistently corrupted ONLY during the flashbacks so what the fuck is happening

COLA

DRINK IT

i m losing it its the cola machines from the first game i diD NOT EXPECT THESE TO BE HERE

what the fuck is christian salad

you didn’t think i would see this, outlast devs, you thought you could hide this on the menu board and i wouldnt notice. i did notice and i demand answers

NO!!!! THAT IS THE OPPOSITE OF OKAY THIS IS THE LEAST OKAY I HAVE EVER BEEN IN MY LIFE

WELL!!!!! OKAY!!!! ALRIGHT!!!! NOW THAT I’VE BEEN LITERALLY FUCKING CRUCIFIED, FELL DOWN A HILL AND STRAIGHT INTO A FENCE OF BARBED WIRE, GOT DRAGGED OUT HERE AND BURIED ALIVE, CRAWLED MY WAY OUT OF MY OWN GRAVE AND NOW HAVE HOARDS OF DISEASED ZOMBIE NIGHTMARE CULTISTS SEARCHING FOR ME SO THEY CAN DEVOUR MY FLESH, LET’S GET GOING, SHALL WE

THIS IS FINE!!! EVERYTHING IS FINE I CANT SEE SHIT AND THERES NOTHING BUT TREES AND BARBED WIRE EVERYWHERE AND NO INDICATIONS WHATSOEVER OF WHERE I NEED TO GO BUT IT’S F IN E IM DOING GREAT

#lucy plays outlast 2 #was further behind than i thought lmao but heres some more

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siarven · 5 years ago

Note

Happy STS! No specific question today, just take this as free opportunity to ramble about one of your favorite things in your WIP! Have a good day! :)

Awww, you sent me two asks (from 2 weeks and 1 week ago) about this and tumblr just didn’t tell me I’d gotten any?????????? I only stumbled on them by accidentally clicking on the ask box???

Thank you!!

I haven’t participated before because I was too busy at home (and hate tumblr-ing from my phone) but I will try to do it in the future

What is one of my favorite things in my WIP…. I can’t decide on a wip, or a thing, so I’ll just scream about all 3 of my currently active WIPs and everything, sorry, thank you :D

First of all, I am very much in love with everything about my 3 recent WIPs :D. As Dreams Collide and Like Dragons of Old are both in the dark epic fantasy area, so while they’re also going to be aggressively hopepunk, they’re in general a lot darker than Hope Beyond, and also more epic and … well, fantasy xD And I love that! Hope Beyond is the first story that’s not set in a fantasy world of my making. Which, funnily, makes it so much harder for me. I love imagining everything xD But I feel like Hope Beyond needs that, to be a bit more grounded?

My WIPs are first and foremost written for me, with the things in them that I love :’) So I just take everything I like and throw it into a pot and hope that others will like it, too. But if not that’s okay. I will still love it :3 So that’s why my WIPs usually have a ton of creatures in them, creative worldbuilding (with lots of nature in it), and a mean magic system XD. And a lot of platonic love, between friends, family members, found family members… that sorta thing. And they also hurt a lot, in all the creative ways, while still refusing to give up hope and fighting for a better world ;D It’s gotten very hopepunk nowadays. I’ve come to actively dislike grimdark, even if a lot of my old wips fall more into that category (it’s probably the asoiaf influence..).

So this escalated a lot, I will just put it below a cut…

Hope Beyond is very small and personal and private, it’s all about the characters and probably won’t have an obvious villain. It’s more about personal growth, so internal conflict (and external conflict between the characters, but not necessarily with a villain in it). And I love it for that, and I love that it’ll be a comic, too! Even if that is so much work ahhhhh

And I love that it’s about recovery, and about three women and their conflicting recoveries, and how they help each other grow past their trauma, and how their pains are all so different but also similar. :’)

AND THE CREATURES!!! I can have all the creatures, and they don’t have to make physical sense, they can just be ghost creatures, and they can have stupid pun names, or heartfelt ones, or–

With As Dreams Collide, it’s kinda similar, but for very different reasons :’) I’ve been working on that thing since Nov 2014 (when I wrote the first draft during nanowrimo) and it’s come so far?? It’s the third draft now but it could just as well be a totally different story. There’s a huge, huge jump even from the second to the third draft! In the first draft, Elinor didn’t even exist! It was set somewhere in England! It had some fantasy in it, but not a lot. When the original story was supposed to be done, I hadn’t reached 50K yet so Ava got randomly promoted to main character, and the low-fantasy story turned into one with more magic in it… and more danger, and an actual villain xD And Ben wasn’t just a ghost-boy anymore, he was a ghost-boy with some sort of magic. Originally all the magic wasn’t magic, it was just something ghosts could do! And in the second draft, Elinor was only mentioned in passing and appeared once in the epilogue, and now she’s a main character!

It’s changed so much, and even if I still love the original concept (and will probably use it for something visual, one day, it’s just perfect for a visual novel, tbh), Dreams as of now is just so different, and I love it to death

I love that Merreadon, the city, is a huge tower-like mess of a structure, built around a few magical trees that connect Aelaris to Nevaeh, the space between worlds (that connects most of my WIP-worlds ;D); I love that the whole world is populated by a ton of small sorta-intelligent dragons, some of which are bird-adjacent and do bird things, some mammal-adjacent, some reptilian, insectoid, amphibian… I love that dogs are called wolflings cause the domestication isn’t that far off in that world. And that people tried to make spies out of dragons by bribing them with food, except the dragons took the food and ran. XD

I love that there was an apocalypse in the past, that there are long forgotten secrets simmering everywhere, that the gods are alive and well and very inhuman, and that they’re not even actually gods. I love that i made two religions that don’t even feature in this book xD I love the religions that are actually important in the story! I love that none of them are “obviously right”, that it’s pieces that fit, while others don’t fit.

I love that my characters feel like people to me, that they’ve gotten so important over the past 1-2 years that I’m having serious second thoughts over some parts of the plot xD

I really, really love about all of my stories that they’re interconnected, and while it’s incredibly frustrating (and delves into the most spoilery spoilers ever) to explain my magic system (that all individual ones are part of a “big” one), that it all works and makes sense even between all of these worlds, and that some characters will show up in other stories…

And now, Like Dragons of Old!

Like Dragons of Old is similar to Hope Beyond: Both of them are composed out of the things I love, from the very beginning. While Dreams grew organically, LDOO is the best planned story yet.

It will 100% kill me.

I absolutely love my worldbuilding, the magic system, the characters–

The Library!! The Broken Continent!! The Mean Tree Gods!! I love these concepts so much, I can’t wait to write all of it!!

I love that all 3 books of The Song of Aunae Trilogy cover 10 years each, that the characters grow up, and that the story grows up with them. That the first one will be cute and sweet, but also set up the pain from the later books… and it starts with a genocide. Whoops. XD

I love that the first book is Selandri’s POV, the second one is Onii’s, and the third one is Timbre’s. I love that Onii is a chaotic trickster phoenix in chicken form. I LOVE ONII AND TIMBRE AND SELANDRI SO MUCH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Literally everything about these books makes me happy, even the romance aspect! Normally, I don’t like writing romance, and just ignore it from the get-go or make my main characters aro-ace. But in this case, while Timbre is ace, she and Selandri do fall in love and it makes the story so much more heartbreaking, cause it’s their story, how one small stupid choice when they’re children ends in them being on different sides in a kind of eternal war, and how they still love each other after all these years, even if.

I love that Timbre is the low empathy hero, while Selandri is the high empathy antagonist, I love that they’re so different but still so similar…

I love that I’ve decided to write three different endings (cause the grey one was planned, but now that I know them, I wanna write three versions, I want to let people decide which one they need the most–): the white one, the happy ending. The grey one, the bittersweet ending, that’s still more sweet than bitter, but will still make you cry. And the black one, the bittersweet ending that’s more bitter than sweet, which will kill me, specifically.

Strike that, all three will kill me.

I love that Like Dragons of Old is still going to be incredibly hopepunk, even if there’s so much pain and destruction and loss.

I’m so sorry, this got s o l o n g

It was a lot of fun though

if you made it this far, here’s a smol cute book monster

#ldoo #hopebeyond #dreamshadow #storyteller saturday #thank you for asking <3 #this got so much longer than I expected #apparently I needed to let out all the love???#ettawritesnstudies

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kpopmultifan127 · 5 years ago

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That Lonely Troll Ch. 1 (WayV XiaoJun)

CHAPTER ONE

Growing up I was always a nerd. I was an outsider that had no friends or didn’t have looks that caught attention in a good way. Glasses that were thicker than coke bottles and hair that birds felt comfortable to lay their eggs in. Even if I tried to make an effort to look good I’d always got teased for trying too hard. So I always just learned to not care anymore. There was only one person that was nice to me, his name was XiaoJun. Everyone knew who he was and everyone had a crush on him because he was so good looking, he was top of his class and he was super athletic. He was also in a group with his friends called WayV. They were all talented! Xiaojun was every girl’s dream man including mine. I always stayed away from him, I mean look at me you really think he’ll even look at me like that?

Every time I saw XiaoJun walk down the hallways all I can do is admire afar and be invisible. Anytime I had no class I’d always stay in an empty room where I was safe from other people teasing me for whatever reason. As I was in the room I heard the sound of footsteps coming in so I put my head up to see who it was and it was XiaoJun. “Oh sorry I didn’t know anyone was here.” He said with a fright. “oh no sorry I can leave if you like me to.” I told him. He smiled and was like “oh no you’re fine you can stay as long as you don’t tell people what I’m about to do here.” I looked at him and giggled as I told him “ok just as long as it’s not illegal” He just smiled and giggled.

“No one knows this about me not even my other members so don’t say anything” he told me as he pointed his finger to me like I was being scolded. I smiled and just nodded yes. Shyly I asked “what is it you’re going to do that no one else knows about?” My heart skipped a beat when he got super close to me to whisper in my ear. I got startled and kinda flinched backwards before he said anything. “I love to draw.” I then looked at him like really that’s it? He could see the look on my face like it wasn’t a big deal. “Sorry I made it sound bigger than it is” he said. He then pulls out his sketchbook and showed me some of his work. “But promise me Diana you can’t say anything.” He added. “How did you know my name is Diana?” I asked him. He then smiled and pointed at my name badge…”your name badge” he said with a giggle. I turned red and watched him pull out his book.

I then got excited, “OH MY GOD YOU DREW THESE?!” Me not realizing how close I was to him and made eye contact with him as he was smiling at how excited I got. I immediately got up “Oh I’m sorry” I said going back to my table to continue working. “You can go ahead and do your thing, I’ll leave you alone now” I told him. He just smiled and began to draw. I couldn’t help but stare at how charismatic he looked when he was drawing. You can tell he really enjoys it. He then looked up as he did I quickly put my head down to do my work. I could see at the corner of my that he caught me staring and just smiled. The bell rang and he started to pack his things to leave he smiled “bye Diana” he told me. “You can just call me Dee” I told him. He smiled and said “ok, bye Dee. Thanks for sharing the room with me” and went on his way.

Class had started and I couldn’t focus on anything. I’ve never spoken to him that long before or even at all. It was nice to talk to someone who wasn’t there to tease me or ask me to do their homework. All I could do was smile and think about him. After class finished I grabbed my things and started walking to my other class. When I was walking down the hall at the end of it I could see XiaoJun talking to his friends and one other member YangYang from his group. Just laughing and having a good time. As I got closer I held my head down like I normally do, I walked by and he saw me pass by I then hear him call me, “Hey Dee!” I turned as I saw him tell his friends I’ll be right back. I looked passed his shoulder to see his friends look to see he was running to. I looked away but as he got there he came to me with a smile. “Hey Dee, I drew this for you.” He said as he handed me a small piece of paper with a drawing of me smiling at his drawings he showed me earlier. He then added, “thanks for keeping my secret” and left with a smile and a small wave right after.

The drawing was amazing and he was really detailed. He’s making me fall in love with him more and more. But I told myself to not fall for his kindness for him liking me or I’ll hurt myself than I already am. “Snap out of it Dee” I told myself. He was just returning the favor for keeping his secret.

The next day came and I had to get away from everyone so I went to my usual empty room to do more studying. I would catch myself stopping to glance at the picture he drew. “No Dee DON’T do this to yourself” I kept mumbling to myself to snap out of it that I didn’t even realize XiaoJun walked in. All I heard was a little giggle and “Who are you talking to?” I looked up and he’s standing in front of me smiling. “Oh sorry, I wasn’t talking to anyone.” I said shyly. “That was embarrassing” “Are you here to draw again?” I asked him. With a smile as he pulled out his book “Why yes I am” he began to draw while I continued to study.

“What do you like to do Dee?” He asked. I responded, “Well actually I love to draw too. I hope to be a designer some day.” He wanted to see some of the things I drew. I was embarrassed because it wasn’t as great as his drawings. “Oh come on he said let me see.” He said. So I slowly opened my book and showed him a few of the things I drew. He noticed I drew Moomin and smiled. “Is it ok if I have this?” He asked. I kind of stuttered before I answered him. “Oh...ok sure” he then smiled and went back to his sketchbook. Watching him draw made my heart melt. His smile stays as he draws, I knew this really made him feel like he could be free. After the bell rang for the next class he grabbed everything and as he said his goodbyes to me he smiled and waved goodbye.

When I was about to leave, I noticed he had forgotten his folder with some of his sketches. I thought maybe I can just give it to him when I go to my next class. As I walked out to the hallway I saw him talking to his friends again. So I slowly approached him as I got closer I can hear laughter in a little group he was with. “Eww what are you doing here?” I heard a voice say. As I looked up it was Bri one of the popular girls in school with XiaoJun and a few of his members. I quietly handed XiaoJun his folder “here you forgot this.” He then responds “oh thank you.” As his group giggles. I quickly started to walk away as I heard whispers “ok run along now troll.” I hated being in this school so much because of the amount of bullying that goes on constantly.

I know I should be used to it by now but when it came to Bri it really hurt. I think I was more jealous because of the fact she always got to hang out with XiaoJun. As time flew by school was done and I couldn't wait to go home and cry in the shower after another horrible day of school. My mom would never let me switch schools maybe because I never really gave her a good reason why I want to switch but if I told her the truth it just adds fuel to the fire so I just kept quiet. But I think what’s keeping me going to school is him. He was the only reason for me to look forward to a new day of school.

The next day came and I was looking forward to a new school day since I know I’ll be

seeing him again. That time came and as I was walking to the room we always went in I heard a girl giggling. As I got to the room I saw it was XiaoJun and Bri in there. He wasn’t drawing this time he was just in there talking to her. When I walked in I walked right back out. He noticed that I walked in and walked right back out. I heard him call out, “Hey wait Dee—“ but I kept walking and whispering of Bri’s voice “why are you calling that troll.” I started to tear up of that truthful comment. I am a troll and I’m too boring and ugly to be affiliated with XiaoJun.

When my next class was about to start after lunch I had to walk down the hallway where usually XiaoJun and his friends would be talking stories. As I walked down the hallway I noticed he was by himself. But the thing is I couldn’t get myself to smile, he was right there I should be happy. Class began and I needed to focus, forget about him I needed to pass this class so I can leave this horrible place. I stayed back to in class so I could finish my work, the professor allowed me to stay just as long as I cleaned up after which I didn’t mind. My head was so buried in my books I didn’t even notice someone sitting in the desk in front of me. I looked up to stretch my neck and finally saw who it was.

I slightly jumped up because I scared to see someone sitting there. It was XiaoJun “Oh my god I’m so sorry!” He said, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me walk in.” He added. “No I didn’t im sorry. When I’m studying I don’t realize what’s around me unless I stop myself from doing what it is I’m doing.” I told him. He just smiled,”what are you doing anyway.” He asked. “I’m making my final draft of a cocktail dress I needed to design for my final project for my class.” I said. He then glanced down at my drawing and his eyes widened at the look of the dress. I noticed his expression and got scared “oh my god it’s ugly isn’t it?!” I continued to ramble on about my horrible drawing “ugh I knew it was ugly I need to—-“ he then interrupts me. “NO! It’s not it’s gorgeous!” He said with a huge smile. “This is amazing. Are you making it for yourself too? It would be wasted if you didn’t” I then looked at him then back at my drawing. “There’s no way I can pull this dress off with the way I look” I said with a sigh.

“What do you mean?” As he asked looking at me holding up the drawing next to my face. I began to turn red and snatched the drawing out of his hand. “I think you’d look great in this Dee.You should wear it to our school’s anniversary party! Are you going to go? I’m performing with my other member’s. You should come.” He added with a smile. I held my head down and said softly “no I won’t I’m a troll remember.” With the sudden silence as his smile became soft. “Don’t listen to Bri.” He said. “She may not seem like a nice person but deep down inside she’s really nice.” He added. It got silent. I went back to finish my drawing as he stood there awkwardly. And felt bad how the atmosphere became. He then grabbed a ball of paper he found on the ground and threw it in my direction hitting me on the head.

“Hey what the—“ I looked up and saw him smiling and giggling because he got me really good with the ball of paper. “Relax Dee!” He said “you’ll do just fine I have faith in you.” We sat in the room and just spoke about random things forgetting the nervousness I had with my project. Before we knew it the time was really late. “It’s dark outside, I think we should go home.” He said as we packed our things and left the school. We stepped outside and looked to see no one was around. “Do you live far from here Dee?” He asked. “Not really maybe a few blocks away” Pointing in the direction of where I live. “Oh really? I do too. Let’s walk together then” He said. “Oh--sure ok.” I replied shyly. As the night got darker we began to walk home.

CHAPTER TWO COMING SOON....

#WAYV #NCT #WAYV XIAOJUN #NCT XIAOJUN #XIAOJUN #XIAOJUN DE #XIAO DEJUN #WAYV FANFIC #WAYV FAN FIC #XIAOJUN FANFIC #XIAOJUN FAN FIC #FANFIC #XIAOJUN FLUFF #KPOP FLUFF

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decaffeinatedcatastrope · 6 years ago

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EDIT: jfc i forgot the readmore i’m sorry for the massive post on your dash xD So this is a snippet/draft from the big fic-in-progress, but it’s holiday appropriate and really cute.

warnings: mentioned character death (he got better) smoking, mentions of drinking, cursing, and naughty santa innuendo between two emotionally constipated magical skeletons who can’t decide if they wanna date each other or punch each other. except one knows he can’t be punched or he’ll die and he uses it to pester the other skeleton to no end.

-ahem-

Red and Sans are invited to Tori’s for a small gyftmas/christmas party. It’s technically Red’s first christmas. (Asgore is not invited for reasons, Red finds out later) It’s...a party. Red is a bit uncomfortable being included in the festivities, and feels a little out of place.

----- Just as Red was considering the eggnog as an escape from his state of constant, unending anxiety that someone was going to turn around and stab him, the whole party went quiet for a moment. Everyone turned their attention to the front door, and the group of children started making an ungodly noise. “the fuck??” Red muttered, willing himself to get closer to the group so he could see what was going on. Wait. That was Sans. That was very clearly Sans, dressed up in a red, velvety santa suit and a shitty fake beard. He hadn’t even bothered to take off his ratty slippers. Holy shit. Red fumbles with his soda as he tries to clap one of his hands over his mouth before he bursts out laughing. Holy shit. Holy shit. Suddenly everything was worth it. The anxiety, the stress, being around people who cared about him too much for whatever reason; this made it all worth it. This made his whole fucking year, seeing Sans dress up in such a stupid-- Then Papyrus screamed “SANTA!! YOU MADE IT TO THE SURFACE!!” and practically tackled Sans. The two skelebros laughed, and Sans patted Papyrus on the back. They were happy. Red felt...something kinda warm and fuzzy curl up in his soul. He gave Sans a genuinely affectionate smile, and he felt the tiniest bit proud of him for doing something like this for his brother. Even though he’s damn sure Papyrus knows exactly what’s going on, and is just playing along because it makes them both happy. Red decided to keep his mouth shut, and tried to will the warm fuzzy feelings to chill for a bit while Sans started handing out presents to various party goers. Papyrus and Frisk were the first, then he moved onto a couple of the Snowdin kids, Undyne and Alphys, and then Toriel. By the time he got around to Red, Red’s amusement had resurfaced, and he was trying his best to behave. He failed. As Sans started digging around in his bag for Red’s present, Red gave him a mock-offended look as he scoffed. “wait, no way. after all the shi--” Toriel gave him the Mom look. “--stuff i’ve done this year, i’m not on the naughty list?” Sans looked a bit caught off guard, but recovered quickly with a shrug. “eh, santa is forgiving, especially after what you’ve been through--” “damn, i’m guess ‘m gonna haveta try harder next year.” Red gave him a wicked grin. Sans’ smile soured a little, and he shrugged. “...well in that case, you get nothing.” Off he went to the next person. “wh-” That wipes the smile off Red’s face. “wait, no, i--” “nope, too late, you’ve been bad.” Sans stated, ignoring him. “hey! wh...” Red frowned at him, crossing his arms to keep himself from flipping the shorter skeleton off. Sans almost wanted to go back and poke fun at him for actually pouting, but kept his act going. --- Later on, Sans was finally done being Santa. After listening to Papyrus’ long explanation about how he’d missed out on meeting the jolly man in the red suit yet again this year, he just wanted to sit back and enjoy some time to himself. Which meant finding Red. He looked around the house, but it seemed like Red had vanished. He had a good idea where his double probably was, though. He asked Tori to make two cups of hot coco, then headed for the back door where the porch swing was. For some reason, Red always ended up back here. Sure enough, Red was on the porch, although the swing was abandoned in favor of the steps. And he was smoking again. Sans was pretty sure it was still the same box of cigarettes Red had from the wedding. Sans didn’t try to be quiet when he opened the back door, so Red wouldn’t be too startled. He did look back to see who was coming, but the relief on his face when he realized it was Sans was tangible. “hey.” Sans called, approaching quietly. “...hey.” Red replied, taking a drag of his cigarette. He paused when Sans offered him a mug of coco. Looking between his cig and the coco, Red eventually flicked his cig into the snow and took the offered mug with a warm smile. “...thanks.” “no problem.” Sans replied, sitting next to him on the steps. “too much?” “...yeah.” Red muttered, taking a sip of his coco. He brightened. “this is good.” “i can’t take credit, Tori made them.” “still good. and ya still brought it to me.” Sans hummed slightly, before nudging Red. Red fumbled in an attempt not to spill his coco, and chuckled. “what?” He thought he could see the faintest flicker of nervousness as Sans’ smile tightened a little. “...you uh. do you still want that present?” “thought i’d been too bad for presents.” Red teased, nudging Sans back. Sans took a moment to stare into his coco, before he set it aside and fished a thin, wrapped package out of his inventory, and held it out for Red to take. “you deserve something, especially after i caught you pouting like a spoiled child after i told you you wouldn’t get one.” Red threw him an only slightly irritated glare and snatched the gift from him. He was expecting something stupid, like Papyrus’ gift; a cookbook, except every recipe had ketchup in it. He wasn’t disappointed. His gift was also a book, but it was a...coloring book? The word “FUCK” was emblazoned on the front of it in fancy text, and framed with all kinds of artsy shit. “the fuck is this?” Sans burst out laughing, and Red had to hold himself back from chucking the stupid thing at him. Sans was doing that thing again, that dumb honest laugh of his turning his soul to mush with good feels. Once Sans managed to get a hold of himself, he held out a cheap pack of markers. “it’s a coloring book.” “...Sans, it says FUCK on it.” “yeah, i saw it and thought of you. open it.” “gee thanks, you ass.” Red scoffed, flipping through a page or two. He was assaulted with more curse words in fancy, flowery script. Then, a horrible idea popped into his head. “looks like a perfect activity to do with the kid next time i watch ‘em.” Sans’ amusement shifted to horror. “oh god no - Tori would kill me--” His arm snapped forward faster than Red expected in an attempt to snatch back the gift, but Red managed to hold it just out of the smaller skeleton’s range. Red laughed as Sans tried to climb over him after the book, totally ready to chuck it across the porch if he had to. Sans paused and gave him a strange look, a twinkle of something in his eye lights before he started trying after the book again with renewed vigor. Red kept laughing and fending him off until he felt something softly brush his skull. A pastel shred of paper fluttered into view, and Red followed it with his eye lights until it landed on his lap. The book was forgotten momentarily, and he didn’t even react when Sans snatched it from him. Then Sans noticed the slip of paper Red was oh so carefully holding in his hand. A ticket, for the supernova event at Mt. Ebott observatory next year. The same ones Red had died trying to get, weeks prior. Red said nothing, instead his gaze shifted and the two of them locked eye lights. Sans was starting to get a little nervous. “...you...i uh. heard there was this big thing going on at the observatory next year, thought it’d be neat? so i got two tickets, and uh, maybe you...could go with me?” Sans grinned at him, but Red just continued to stare. “i mean, if you wanted to. i thought maybe...space was your thing too. like mine? i, uh...” Sans was beginning to worry that the aftermath of that whole situation might be a painful memory for Red, that it was stupid to dredge that pain back up during a time they were supposed to be happy, that-- Sans tensed when he felt Red loop one of his arms around the back of his neck, and leaned forward to click his teeth against Sans’ own, his soul welling with warm and fuzzy feelings. He could pull away if he wanted, Red wasn’t holding onto him tightly. But...friends don’t kiss, Sans. Sans leaned into the kiss, his arms slipping around Red’s waist of their own volition. It was gentle, not heated or desperate. Warm, calm, comfortable. The two of them stayed like that for a good while, until Red pulled away first. They stared into each other’s eye lights until Red looked down at the ticket clutched in his free hand. “...i uh. i’d like that. the space thing. with you.” Red’s voice sounded oddly tight, and it felt like his soul was getting ready to flutter right out through his ribs. Sans wasn’t much better off. He quickly retracted his arms to fiddle slightly with the fluff on the hem of his costume. “good! that’s...good. ‘cause then i’d have an extra ticket.” He cleared his non-existent throat and gave Red a grin. “so uh. you okay?” “...yeah?” Red asked, quirking a browbone at Sans. “why?” “no reason.” Sans replied quickly. When it was clear Sans wasn’t gonna give him a real answer, Red scoffed and fished out his wallet. He tucked the ticket inside, so it didn’t get...misplaced. “it’s so hard to take you seriously in that stupid costume.” He mused. That broke Sans out of his nervousness. “oh, yeah i saw you trying so hard not to make fun of me. good for you on behaving.” Sans gave him a pat on the back. “don’t patronize me.” Red snapped, before his expression shifted into something...warm. Happy. “i just...i didn’t wanna spoil it for Papyrus. he was so fucking excited to see you show up in that stupid - sorry, to see Sansta show up tonight.” Sans shrugged. “eh, he knows it’s me. it’s just a thing we do.” “i figured, but he still enjoyed it. it’s just...nice to see, ya know? you two, doin’ nice shit for each other. you’re a good brother, Sans.” Sans wanted to ask if Red had ever done something like that for his brother, but...something told him that he should probably keep his mouth shut about it. “uh, thanks.” The two of them sat in awkward silence for a while after that. “...so if you hadn’t decide to behave, what would you have said?” Sans asked curiously. It felt like poking a hornets nest, but he was genuinely curious, and the warmth in his soul from that kiss was stirring up other thoughts. Red snorted, before dissolving into downright laughter again, and he leaned on Sans for support. Sans’ soul flipped in his chest at the sound. “haha, i can’t, i can’t say it. i don’t wanna get kicked outta the house over somethin’ that stupid.” Sans casually glanced around the porch. “we’re kind of already out of the house.” That made Red pause. “...yeah, i guess we are, huh?” “so uh.” Sans tugged a stray piece of fuzz off his sleeve. “why do you wanna hear what i’da said so bad?” “i need a laugh. and a reason to put you on the naughty list.” Sans felt a twinge of regret the moment the words had left his mouth. “oh really? you need a reason?” Red gave him a wicked grin, his gold tooth glinting in the dim flicker of the christmas lights around them. “well, uh, i have plenty of reasons, but i just--” He went silent with shock as Red maneuvered himself into Sans’ lap, the larger skeleton straddling his legs. “uhhhh--” “oh, i’ll give you a reason.” Red gave him a heated look. “...how about i jingle yer bells, Sansta, and then we...fffuck i can’t--” Red suddenly burst into laughter again. “oh my god, that’s fucking terrible, even fer me. ‘m sorry shortstack.” Sans was silent, frozen as his eye lights bore into Red’s own. Red’s grin fell slightly, and his laughing ceased. “...hey, i warned you it’d be stupid.” His face lit up faintly red, and he moved to climb off of Sans when he felt Sans’ phalanges dig into the crests of his hips, holding him in place. “uhhhh.” Red muttered. “uhh.” Sans replied, looking between them. He chuckled sheepishly. “...i snow you wanna be on the n-ice list, but wow. flirting with Sansta? that’s definitely ultra-naughty list material. i might have to stuff your stocking with something better than coal.” “holy shit." Red wheezed and started laughing uncontrollably again. “oh my god - how - how long did you stay up last night thinking of naughty christmas puns? holy shit, Sans!” Sans laughed too. What was he even doing? Had Tori put something in his coco? “i just wanted to see if we were on the same page.” He pointed up at the lights twinkling along the railing. “while your pun was bit lacking, i’m de-lighted to see that you at least tried.” “we both know puns are shit and you prefer knock-knock jokes, you peppermint flavored gremlin.” “wow i take it back, you didn’t even try there. back on the normal naughty list.” Red scoffed in mock offense. “didn’t even try?? well shit, lemme lick yer candy cane and find out what flavor it is then~” Sans’ face practically went navy at that, and he uttered a soft “fuck.” Red snorted, pleased with that reaction. “so, do i win now?” “y-yes.” Sans managed to reply, hiding his face against Red’s stupid christmas sweater. “you gonna gimme a present?” Red whispered against Sans’ skull, digging his sharp phalanges into the cheap, velvety red suit. “oh god. uh. not that.” Sans shivered slightly, trying so hard not to do anything naughty on Toriel’s back porch. But his mind was swimming with terrible puns. “what, afraid i’ll bite?” “yes. very yes.” Sans was very aware of what those teeth could do. And he wanted them no where near his...oh god. “wow, you trust me so much.” Red deadpanned, before just...hugging Sans. They were still in that slighly awkward position, with Red in Sans’ lap, but Red was comfortable, dang it. He gave Sans a sheepish grin. “hey, relax. ‘m just playing.” “no you’re not, you’re corrupting me.” Sans whined. “huh?” “i can’t - i can’t stop thinking of dirty puns. oh god. what have you unleashed.” Red laughed. “don’t blame me fer that! you were probably doin’ that long before i came around.” “no, i--” “hey.” Red started. “knock knock.” “...uh. who’s there?” “coal.” “coal who?” “coal me if you hear santa commin’.” Sans snorted, and Red felt some of the tension leave him. Red smiled. “why does santa always go down the chimney?” “i dunno, why?” “because it soots him.” Sans snorted again, before laughing. Feeling brave, Red continued. “knock knock.” “who’s there?” “...tanks.” “tanks who?” “tanks for givin’ me a good christmas, Sans.” “...o-oh. you’re welcome Red. you deserve it.” Sans looked away with a soft smile, his face dusted with cyan. Red shrugged. “lies, but i’ll take it. hey, why does Santa always land on your roof?”

“why?” Red leaned forward and whispered “because he likes it on top.” That cyan shifted back into navy, and Sans gave Red an absolutely incredulous look. “really?” Red grinned. “i dunno, Sansta, you tell me.” The noise Sans made was amazing. Red couldn’t help but laugh. “okay okay, i’ll stop.” He replied, trying to climb off of Sans again, but Sans still held him fast. “...okay, my legs are fallin’ asleep here, Sans.” He relaxed again, but jolted when he felt something that was definitely not a lump of coal, nope. “yeah? well uh...” Sans looked absolutely mortified, but he leaned in close and whispered something so quietly, Red almost didn’t hear it. But he did hear it. And his face went absolutely scarlet. “...uhhhhehe...fucking hell, Sans. that’s uh. wow. you sure yer not the one on the naughty list instead of me?” Sans still looked mortified, but he managed half a grin. “so...uh, wanna move this party back home?” “i think we should. ‘cause we’re probably gonna stain this fancy suit of yers if we continue.” Red slipped his arms around Sans’ shoulders, quietly steeling himself for a shortcut. “yeah.” Sans looked at the cups of abandoned coco, which had long since gone cold. They really should return them. Then he felt Red shift in his lap again, and Sans’ mind was made up. --- “...nng.” Red’s sockets fluttered open the next morning as the muted light of a cloudy day shined in through the window. Right into his face. Willing himself further into consciousness, he felt around for the familiar lump that was Sans, only to find him missing. Swinging his arm behind him, it collided with his missing lump. Sans let out a quiet groan at the assault. “ow. why.” “couldn’t find ya.” Red mumbled, rolling over so the light wouldn’t bother him anymore. “bright.” “mm. i thought you liked sunlight?” “’s christmas an’ ‘m too full of lazy right now to care.” Pulling Sans into a cuddle, Red relaxed and tried to go back to sleep. Sans snorted and let himself be cuddled. Red’s bones still buzzed with his magic, and Sans smiled sheepishly. “merry christmas, Red.” “yeah.” “stars, you must still be tired.” “shuddap an’ go the fuck back to sleep.” “i would, but i don’t think i can. the official Papyrus wake up call should be soon.” “the what.” Suddenly, there was a pounding knock on their door. Red jolted in surprise. “SANS, RED!! WAKE UP YOU TWO LAZY BONES, IT’S CHRISTMAS!! THERE’S PRESENTS!!” Papyrus called excitedly, before his thudding footsteps bounded down the stairs. Now that both of them were sufficiently awake, Red groaned. “i don’t wanna get up yet.” “we gotta. if we don’t, i don’t think Paps’ll let the whole ‘we might not be decent’ thing stop him from barging in here to--” “’m getting up.” Red replied, rolling himself off the bed with a muffled THUMP. The quilt followed. Sans laughed, before rolling himself off the bed after him. “oof - get offa me.” Red growled, his voice muffled by the quilt. “huh, you’re actually kinda comfy.” Sans replied, letting himself relax on the pile. Red easily shrugged him off and stood up, balling up the quilt and tossing it onto the bed. Sans let himself remain on the floor for a moment as he watched Red get dressed. Red ignored him for the most part, but Sans didn’t miss the way his cheekbones were tinted ever so slightly scarlet. “...i think i’ll make pancakes. that sound good?” Red asked after tugging his christmas sweater over his head, drawing Sans out of his thoughts. “yeah.” Sans yawned and sat up, before retrieving a pair of shorts from the floor and tugging them on. He wasn’t even sure if they were his. A pair of clean sweatpants landed on his head. “i don’t feel like having yer bro throw a shit fit over you wearing crusty floor shorts.” “they’re not crusty.” Sans replied, picking at a questionable stain that might not quite be ketchup. He frowned. “sweatpants it is.” There was a clatter downstairs, and the two of them shared a look before Red left the room. --- Sure enough, Papyrus was gearing up to make them a breakfast feast. Red yawned and took a moment to pour some coffee from the pot right into his mouth before going over and wrestling the cast iron from Papyrus’ grip. Thankfully, Papyrus didn’t fight him. “GOOD MORNING, RED! MERRY CHRISTMAS!” Papyrus beamed, before clapping an oven-mitted hand over his mouth. “Was that too loud?” Red quirked a brow bone at him, and set the pan down on the stove. “...no? you don’t gotta be quiet in the house, Paps. ‘s just us.” “...OH. I THOUGHT YOU AND SANS HAD GOTTEN INTO THE EGGNOG YESTERDAY, WHICH IS WHY YOU WERE NOT UP EARLY, LIKE YOU NORMALLY ARE!” “nah, i decided i wanted to remember my first real christmas without a hangover.” Red replied simply. “pancakes sound good?” “BUT RED, HOW WILL YOU COOK WITHOUT YOUR HANGOVER INDUCED GENIUS?” Sans took this moment to enter the room laughing. Red shot him a glare, before giving Papyrus a tired look. “i think i can manage pancakes. i’ve made ‘em enough sober now that they’re not a complete mystery.” “CAN I HELP?” Red smiled. “’course, you can help me get the ingredients together.” Papyrus quickly went to go raid the fridge for ingredients. “CAN I HAVE A SNOWMAN SHAPED PANCAKE?” “...i can try, i guess.” “can i have one shaped like a reindeer?” “yer gonna get a circle and yer gonna fucking eat it.” Sans chuckled and sipped on his coffee. It was actually really sweet, just how far Red was willing to go to try and make Papyrus happy. Yet something was still bothering him... Red’s brother. Other Papyrus. From what little Red had told him, and the... questionable things Alphys had told him, it really bothered him to imagine his sweet, naive little bro as...well, someone like Red. Someone with LV. Violent. Paps had the potential to be dangerous, yes, but not the intent. It would’ve had to be something devastating to get Papyrus to fight back to the point he gained LV.

#decafcat does writes sometimes #kustard #this was private but now it chrismas and kata am full of egnogg and bad decisions

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a-splash-of-stucky · 7 years ago

Text

Interrupted [2/3]

Pairings: Bucky x Steve || Bucky x Steve x Reader

Summary: You fall asleep during a movie night with the boys. They discover your little secret.

Warnings: Oral sex (f/r and m/r), mildly dom!Steve, sex dreams, mentions of masturbation, threesome

Notes: Yeah, so this was written a long while back and has just been sitting in my drafts folder ever since. Forgive me if the smut is shit.

[1] [2] [3] || My Masterlist || gif source

Nearly a week has passed since you accidentally walked in on Steve and Bucky doing unspeakable acts in the bedroom. Well, their living room. The tension between the three of you is palpable — more so with you and Steve, than anything else. He avoids you wherever possible, trying his damn hardest not to make eye contact or exchange more than a few terse sentences.

You’re not offended. Steve values his dignity, and beyond that, his privacy; his reaction is what you expected it to be. Though he’s not talking to you, Bucky has assured you that Steve’s not mad, he just needs time to buildup his self-confidence again. The Cap’ll come around, at some point.

Bucky, on the other hand, is a different story. Now that you’ve seen him fully in the nude, he seems to have even more of a throwaway attitude when it comes to his body, sparring without his shirt when he’s in the gym with you, or wearing jeans that leave little to the imagination. Every now and then, he’ll flash you a knowing, cocky wink that leaves you all kinds of hot and bothered.

Truth be told, you’re hot and bothered around him — and Steve — most of the time, anyways. Since that fateful day, you’ve hardly been able to get thoughts of them out of your head — the sinful kind, especially.

It’s not like they’re not complicit in that issue, what with Steve walking around the compound in his nipple-baring, too-tight shirts, and Bucky lounging about in sweats that make it blatantly clear that he has forgone his boxers. You find yourself checking them out more, eyes straying father south than is perhaps appropriate, lingering on the bulge in their pants for a beat too long.

And nearly every night, you find yourself sprawled out in bed, one hand buried between your legs, hips grinding onto your fingers as various fantasies of you, Steve and Bucky play out in your mind.

———————

Steve corners you just as you come out of the lift.

“Y/N,” he starts, shoving both hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocking back and forth on his feet.

“‘’Sup, Steve?” you ask, leaning casually against the wall.

“I—look, things have been…kinda awkward, between us,” Steve says, running a hand through his blonde hair. “We—Bucky and I were wondering if you’d like to come over and watch a movie. Y’know, like we always do. To—to clear things up,”.

“I’d love to, Steve,”, you reply, a slow smile creeping over your lips.

He grins, bright and happy, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight. “Great! Tonight? Our room?”

You snort. “As long as you promise to sanitise the couch,”.

Steve’s jaw drops open, eyes bulging out of his head and cheeks turning an alarming shade of pink. “Y/N—I—we wouldn’t—,” he sputters, aghast.

You burst out laughing, catching yourself on his shoulders as your entire body shakes. “I’m only joking, Steve,” you wheeze, “Oh my god, your face,”.

“You’ll pay for that,” he grumbles, roughly shrugging off your hands. “So. Tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah. See ya,”.

You watch him walk away with a slight spring in his step, clearly relieved to have resolved some of the lingering uneasiness between you.

———————

“You made popcorn, right?” you ask, collapsing lengthways onto Steve and Bucky’s couch with a quiet oomph, savouring the feel of sinking into marshmallow-soft cushions.

Bucky snorts indignantly. “What am I, your slave?” he gripes, even as he carries two gigantic bowls brimming with popcorn over — super-soldier metabolism requires triple the standard portion size — and sets them on the coffee table in front you. Bucky lifts your feet up, then sits himself down, draping your legs over his thighs. A freshly showered Steve appears from the bedroom, hair still a little damp. He plops himself by your head and you snuggle up to him, turning onto your side so that Steve can manoeuvre his legs around your body. You settle comfortably between his legs, pillowing your head on his — surprisingly soft — pecs.

As Steve grabs the remote and sets the TV up, your gaze flickers to Bucky, who is looking at Steve with an expression of intense longing. Something in your gut twists at the sight, and you mentally chastise yourself for being so clueless. “Oh, sorry—am I cockblocking you? If you guys wanna cuddle—,”.

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” Steve reassures you, petting your hair gently, “Bucky and I cuddle all the time. He’s greedy like that,”.

“Yeah, well, Steve’s greedy for—,”

“No!” you cry, sharply poking Bucky in the thigh with your toe. “I do not want to know how that sentence ends,”.

(Actually, you kind of do, but you’re not going to admit that to either of them. They’d never let you live it down.)

Bucky shrugs indifferently. “Suit yourself,”.

“FRIDAY, could you dim the lights?” Steve calls, as the opening credits flicker across the screen.

A comfortable peace settles over the room. You’ve had a long day, so it’s no surprise that within the first ten minutes, your eyelids are already beginning to droop, your body lulled by the steady rise and fall of Steve’s chest and the soothing coolness of Bucky’s metal fingers tracing idle patterns on your calf. You press your cheek into Steve’s chest and allow yourself to drift off, knowing that you’re in safe hands.

———————

“Oh—oh my god, yes, Bucky,” you moan, as he hooks his arms around your legs and pulls you down onto his face. Your thighs are straddling either side of his head, and you resist the urge to clamp them shut, not wanting to suffocate him. His tongue darts out, lapping at your slick folds, drinking up your arousal like a man dying of thirst. You yelp, both hands fisting in the sheets to steady yourself.

“Fuck, doll,” Bucky growls, swiping his tongue into your entrance, “Tastes so damn good,”. Bucky flicks his tongue across your clit, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

Steve stands in front of you, naked, his blonde hair darkened with sweat, his chest and neck flushed a deep, alluring shade of red. He’s got his large hand wrapped around his thick cock, fist running up and down the length in sure, leisurely strokes; you’re entranced by the motion. Your eyes are torn between staying open to watch him, or fluttering shut under the pleasurable assault of Bucky’s mouth.

“You wanna lick it, Y/N?” Steve asks, voice dark and raspy, just like it was on that day you saw him with Bucky. He walks closer, coming to the edge of the bed, standing until he is fisting his cock just inches from your face. If you crane your neck forward, you can probably capture the head between your lips. You refrain from doing so, though, choosing instead to focus on the entrancing beauty of Steve’s cock in his fist, noting how the head is almost purplish in hue, the slit drooling with pre-come that also coats the back of his knuckles.

Your mouth is salivating at the sight.

Steve cups your chin and tilts your head upwards, forcing you to look at him, just as Bucky sucks your clit between his lips, ripping a low moan from your throat. “You wanna lick it, baby?” Steve asks again, more insistently this time.

You wet your lips and nod your head. “Y-yes, Steve. Please, S-s-steve,” you whisper.

“Good girl,”.

He brings that glorious dick to your mouth, rubbing the sticky head back and forth over your closed lips, coating them in his earthy, musky flavour. Steve’s heady scent fills your nostrils, setting off a flare of arousal in your groin, which is then amplified by Bucky sliding two fingers into your sex. “Open up, babygirl,” Steve rasps, and you do, relaxing your jaw so that Steve can slowly feed you every inch of his cock.

You imagine that the three of you must make quite the pretty — and pornographic — picture, with you on your hands and knees, Bucky’s head between your thighs and Steve’s dick in your mouth. You don’t care how debauched it looks; you’re in heaven, and that’s all that matters.

———————

“Ste-eve,” you moan, butting your head insistently against him.

Steve glances at you. Your eyes are still closed and your face is relaxed with sleep, so his brow furrows in confusion. “Y/N? Are you—what’s up?”

“Fuck me,” you mumble softly, nuzzling into his muscled chest. The words are barely audible, but his hearing is enhanced, so of course he picks it up. Steve’s eyes widen in astonishment, mouth gaping open at what you’ve — knowingly or not — just said. His gaze flicks towards Bucky, whose expression is as equally amused, eyebrows so high up his forehead, they’ve almost disappeared into his hairline. Bucky meets Steve’s eyes and snickers quietly at Steve’s horrified expression.

“You heard that, right?” Steve whispers urgently.

Bucky replies with a firm nod.

“Yessss—mmm Bucky,” you slur, licking your lips and twisting around in your sleep. “Righ’ there, mmm,”.

It’s now Bucky’s turn to be taken aback. Movie entirely forgotten, he shifts his focus to you, roaming his eyes up and down your body. Bucky notes the almost imperceptible squirming of your hips, the slight flush on your cheeks, the way you periodically bite your lip and tip your head back, baring your neck in a most enticing manner. The visual, accompanied by the sounds spilling out of your mouth, leave him with no doubt as to what kind of dream you’re having.

“Unh—yeah, mmm, don’t stop,” you mutter, reaching one hand up to half-heartedly paw at your breast.

Steve chokes on air. “Is she—,”.

“Yup,” Bucky says quickly.

This is not the first time the boys have seen you talking in your sleep. In fact, it happens often enough that they tease you mercilessly about it. This, however, is the first time you’ve had this particular kind of dream with them around.

Steve clears his throat to get Bucky’s attention. “Should we—do we wake her up?” he whispers.

Bucky shakes his head, “No. Let’s see where this goes,”

“Bucky,”.

“Steve,”, Bucky mimics, arching one eyebrow.

“We can’t do that to her,” Steve says firmly, “It’s not…it’s an invasion of privacy!”

Bucky scoffs. “Need I remind you that she barged in on us?”

“That was an accident!” Steve protests, cheeks flushing hot at the memory.

“Ohhhhh!” you whisper-moan, back arching off the couch a little. The motion has Steve’s gaze snapping back towards you. He’s paranoid that you’re going to wake up suddenly and be horribly embarrassed when you realise what has just transpired — he doesn’t want you to have to experience that.

Bucky sighs, reaching over your body to squeeze Steve’s hand. “Look, Steve, just let her sleep it out. We’ll have a chat with her when she wakes up,”, he soothes.

It is at this moment that you let out a particularly loud groan, spreading your legs wider as you writhe against Steve’s body. “Yeahhh,” you sigh, “Mmmm…jus—jus’ like that,”. The gentle undulations of your ass against his crotch has Steve biting his lip to hold in a moan of his own. To his abject dismay, he finds his cock responding to your movements, fattening up in his sweats.

If you were to awaken now, he’d be in a highly compromising position. Steve shoots a pleading look in Bucky’s direction.

“Aw, baby, is she getting you worked up?” Bucky teases, mouth quirking into a smug, lopsided grin.

Steve rolls his eyes impatiently. “Yes,” he huffs. “Please can we wake her up?”

“No,” Bucky repeats, “We’ll have a talk with her when she wakes up, and when it’s over, whatever the outcome is, I’lll dick you so hard you’ll forget your name,”.

Steve narrows his eyes and grinds his teeth, considering the offer and wondering if he should put up more of a fight. In the end, he sighs resignedly and slouches further into the couch, trying to move his rapidly swelling dick away from your ass. “Fine,” Steve huffs, “I’m holding you to that,”.

“Yes, baby!” you moan, hand blindly reaching out to grab something, which just happens to be Steve’s thigh.

Bucky chuckles at Steve’s long-suffering sigh. “And here I was, thinkin’ we could have a nice, uneventful movie night,” Steve grouses, like the century-old man he is.

———————

When you come awake, your brain is groggy, the last vestiges of the all-too-realistic dream still clinging to your mind. You turn your face towards the TV, noting how the movie is almost at its end, the bright lights casting flickering shadows on the walls. You breathe deeply, and immediately regret the action because you inhale a lungful of Steve’s clean, crisp scent, which only serves to fuel the fire between your thighs.

You sigh internally. That dream has got you more worked up than you’ve been in a while. You need to make your escape soon, to ‘relieve’ yourself. Of all the times to have a dream like that, of course it had to happen when you’re sandwiched between Steve and Bucky.

Thinking about being sandwiched between two super-soldiers does not help your situation.

Bucky’s gaze falls on you and, he smiles, noticing that you’re awake. “Hey, there, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, “Missed the whole movie,”.

You hum sleepily in response, scrubbing the back of one hand over your eyes.

In a flash, Bucky has crawled over you, caging you in with his forearms, a wolfish grin on his lips. You move to back away, but there’s no where for you to go, trapped as you are between Steve’s legs and chest. You let out an undignified squeak.

“B-bucky?” you stutter, “What’re you…doing?”

“Had a nice dream, doll?”

You swallow, a sinking feeling settling low in your stomach because you have a feeling you know where this conversation is going. “Uh-huh,” you squeak.

“What was it about?” he asks innocently, eyes still trained on your face.

“N-nothing,”.

“Nothing, eh?” Bucky echoes, cocking his head to the side. He looks up at Steve, above you, “Did it look like nothin’ to you, Stevie?”

“It did not,” Steve replies, chest rumbling with the low baritone of his voice.

You groan, throwing your hands over your eyes because you can’t bear to look at Bucky whilst you say this. “Fine,” you grit out, “I was having a sex dream, okay? Forget about it,”.

“And…who was this sex dream, about, Y/N?” Bucky asks. Your body stiffens, so Steve rubs his large palm up and down your upper arm to soothe you.

“Did—did I sleep talk?” you ask quietly, peeking at Bucky from between your fingers. At his nod, you sigh frustratedly, feeling the hot, mortifying blush spread over your cheeks and down your neck. “I can’t believe this,”, you mutter.

“D’you wanna talk about it, sweetie?” Steve asks, tone concerned and tender, holding no note of playfulness in it whatsoever. You’re glad you can’t see his expression, because you don’t think your heart can cope with much more than this; you’re pretty much a nervous wreck.

You keep the heel of your palms pressed to your eyes as you speak. “Ever since—the incident that shall not be named…I…I’ve been thinking about you. Two. Together. Sometimes with me. And…yeah. It’s—I’ve—,”.

“You’ve been touchin’ yourself to it?” Bucky asks, voice low and husky, sending arousal pooling in your gut.

“Bucky,” Steve chides exasperatedly.

“No, it’s okay, Steve. Yes, Bucky. I have,”, you admit.

Steve sucks in a breath behind you, and Bucky whistles through his teeth. “That’s hot, doll,”. Bucky breathes.

You pry your fingers off your eyes and look at him hesitantly. “You’re not mad?” you ask shyly.

“Mad?” Steve echoes, “Why would we be mad?”

“Truth is,” Bucky drawls, settling himself between your thighs, “We’ve…got a thing for you too, doll,”.

“What?” you gasp, sitting bolt upright, stunned.

Steve wraps his hand around your upper arm, pulling you back to his chest. “S’alright, sweetie, it’s just—we care for you, and you happen to be…uh…blessed on the looks side of things—,”

“You’re beautiful,” Bucky interjects, rolling his eyes at Steve’s roundabout way of saying things.

“—right, and we’re…if you’d like to…that is—we’d like to..um..heh, sleep with you,”, Steve finishes.

“As in…me? A threesome with me and you two?” you say slowly, gesturing between the three of you and looking to Bucky for confirmation.

Bucky nods. “Steve’s kinda inexperienced when it comes to the female anatomy. You wanna help him out with that?”

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, body flushing hot at the thought of being able to live out the fantasies that have haunted your every hour. “Taking Captain America’s virginity would—,”.

“I am not a virgin,” Steve interrupts, vexation apparent in his tone.

“You kind of are,” Bucky points out, “Virgin when it comes to the ladies,”.

“You act like one, that’s for sure,” you add, giggling when Steve half-heartedly punches your shoulder.

“So yeah?” Bucky asks, looking at you with hope glimmering in his eyes. “Let’s do it?”

“Wait, wha—now?”

He snorts, rolling off the couch to stand over you both, hands on his hips. “What, you busy? Shall I have FRIDAY clear some time in your schedule next week?”

“Jeez, okay, okay,” you huff, lust flaring deep within your core as the reality of the situation sinks in. You turn around to look at Steve, who’s biting his lip and looking at you with a mixture of adoration and desire in his eyes. “You okay with this?” you ask him.

“I’m game if you’re game,” Steve replies, “Don’t want you to feel obligated,”.

“Do you want this?”

Steve nods confidently.

“Do you want this, Bucky?” you ask, turning to the other man.

“Hell yes,” he growls, “You’re a pretty lil’ thing, Y/N, I wanna see what you got under there,”.

“And I want this too,” you say, clapping your hands together resolutely. “Great, consent sorted out, let’s move onto the fun stuff,”.

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