#am still hacking away at that wip but it will probably not be done before ep drop cause i gotta SLEEP | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lambourngb · 4 years ago

Text

a skeleton of something more [3/7]

previously here. malex wip based on the trailer for season 3, some spoilers and my own speculation. I’m failing at the daily serial because keeping to 2K is impossible, but hoping to have it finished by next week.

Warnings: NSFW content, not forrest long friendly

*** NOW ****

Alex shut off the streaming hot water reluctantly, and shifted back on the new shower bench to lean his head against the tile.

His fingertips were pruned from the long shower, his attempt at using the scalding water to try to wash away the dirt he felt covered in after being away from Roswell for so long. Pointless endeavour, when he knew the filth was more than skin deep at this point. It was in his bones. It was in his blood, the way the Manes name still opened the worst doors. Alex touched the corners of his smile with his hands, looking for the edge of the mask he wore around Deep Sky and finding only the bristle of his beard growing in, a very late five o’clock shadow.

The steam of the shower was slowly fading, bringing back the visual details of his naked body. His stump was slightly swollen, the marks of wearing his prosthesis for too long, but it was hard to feel safe without it on, doing the work he was doing around even more paranoid men than he was. Three years past his injury, the scars were still ugly to his eyes as he cupped his fingers over the end of his right leg, but time had faded the lines from an angry red to a wizened white.

Alex hoped that time would do the same to his soul.

He moved his hand from his stump, over to his thighs to stretch the lingering soreness from his legs. He ignored where his cock laid, half-full of blood from the simple pleasure of a hot shower; the desire to let himself feel good was far from his mind. Instead he focused on returning functionality to his body after the long, cramped ride on that bus. That was the physical challenge, the emotional one would be trickier.

It helped that he knew Michael was still there, in his house, probably fixing something else that had been neglected during Alex’s time away. Finding something that was broken or damaged, and then making it whole just with his touch, that was what Michael did naturally. Alex was no exception to that.

Every muscle was loose finally, thanks to the improved water pressure beating on the knots of tension until they turned into putty. Beyond the simple improvement of the plumbing, Michael had also relocated the shower taps to the wall next to the bench, so he could sit safely and turn on the water without balancing on one foot in the front of the stall.

New grab bars lined the bathroom walls as well. Alex had worried about the expense until he recognized the chrome and black rails from the boxes he had bought a while ago, before shuttling them off to the garage. Michael had apparently found the abandoned project and had finished it for him. The longer the trips he made away from Roswell were, the more involved the upgrades Michael made in his absence. He would need to prepare a cover story in case Forrest noticed the changes, a renovated bathroom went far beyond changing out bulbs in a light fixture.

He was getting closer to ending the sham relationship with Forrest, but he wasn’t there quite yet. His first night back in Roswell he had managed to steer Forrest away from his house and more importantly, his bed, but that was only a temporary reprieve. Tomorrow it would all begin again, playing the role of a grieving son looking to ‘understand’ his father, docilely following Forrest’s lead in ‘discovering’ the alien threat, letting the other man comfort him, but this time, that would all happen in front of Michael.

Michael knocked on the half-open bathroom door to get his attention, before stepping inside carrying a bath towel. “Are you still alive in there?”

“I am, but I want to marry this shower,” and you, he finished silently. Michael looked pleased by the comment as he stood outside the glass doors, waiting patiently as Alex pulled himself up from the bench and carefully hopped toward him. As he drew closer, the proud expression changed to one of open hunger as Michael took in his nakedness, cataloging the changes on his body. Downtime while he had been away from Roswell had often been filled with trips to the gym, exercising to work through his frustration at the slow pace of developments regarding Deep Sky. Weight lifting and core training had kept his hands away from his phone when the desire to check in with Michael took hold.

There was only so many times he could pass off a call to Michael about his mail or paying a bill for his house.

Alex held out his hand for the towel, while Michael stared at him, his gaze almost physical as he lingered over the swells of muscle. He snapped his fingers at Michael to break the hypnosis.

At the sound, Michael blinked, but then avoided his hand to wrap the towel around Alex himself. Warmth from the soft linen enveloped Alex, a sign the towel was fresh from the drier. He closed his eyes under Michael’s safe hold, enjoying the blatant pampering as Michael gently patted Alex’s wet skin dry. “I don’t mind sharing you with the shower, especially if it means you’re not wearing clothes,” he murmured in Alex’s ear, nosing the lock of wet hair away.

Shivering under the ghost of Michael’s lips, Alex felt something start to knit and heal inside him, blanketed by more than just the towel. Love. Feeling more like himself, Alex teased Michael back, “You could have joined me.”

“It was tempting, very tempting, but then who would have made dinner if I had taken you up on that offer?” Michael tucked the towel around Alex, and then offered his arm as a support while Alex hopped toward the pile of folded sweats to wear.

“I have a lot of appetites, Michael, food is barely in the top five. And I can eat later, after you leave,-” Alex held his clothes in his hand, not moving to get dressed just yet.

“You can, but you won’t eat. As soon as I walk out that door, I know you’re going to park yourself in front of your computer and spend the rest of the night hacking, just like you’ve done nearly every night since this started.” Michael waited with a raised eyebrow for Alex to deny it.

Caught by both the frustration that Michael was right and by the ticking clock in his head that counted down the end of this precious time together, Alex conceded. He pulled his sweatshirt down over his head grumpily, “I didn’t spend every night hacking.”

“Just the nights when you weren’t with Forrest Long.” Michael said it quietly, turning away to hang up the wet towel.

Alex tucked his crutches under his arms, before reaching out to catch Michael’s shoulder. “Hey, it doesn’t mean anything, you know that, right? It’s just…friction.” He studied Michael’s face, worried that perhaps his patience with everything was wearing thin.

Over the last year, as he moved deeper and deeper into the circle of men that made up Deep Sky, Michael had been his lifeline to his real identity. A voice on the line, late at night, warm and beloved, reminding Alex what was important and keeping him grounded. During the day, his resolve had felt less certain. He had forced himself to echo the words of Jesse Manes to curry favor, ducking his reflection in the mirror when the hateful words started to come easier and easier to him. Then there was the feeling he had, when he had to accept Forrest’s offers to visit him in Los Alamos, the way he had felt weirdly relieved to see a familiar face, even if it was someone he couldn’t trust.

Hearing Michael’s voice led him back to himself, and then little by little, the updates were less mission-related and more personal. It had led them back to each other. By the second month, Michael had stopped dancing around things, admitting to Alex just how much he missed him and by the third month, Alex was slipping away to meet with him at half-way destinations to seal his words with actions.

It was reminiscent of his early days in the Air Force, finding Michael in out-of-the-way places where no one knew them. Back then, Alex had DADT and military physicals to dodge. Michael had to take care in leaving no marks on Alex’s body, while Alex had had no such restriction. Michael would leave those encounters, mauled with love bites and fucked thoroughly, while Alex stayed as pristine as his neatly pressed uniform. Eleven, twelve years on, the need for discretion had changed, from the military to Forrest Long.

That was the elephant in the room. Alex was still having sex with Forrest, mostly when he couldn’t avoid it with a trip out of town, like when he accompanied Forrest to Deep Sky owned properties. It was just friction, putting his body in motion to do a job, much like he had when he had deployed abroad. He had lost any amount of shame for what he was doing to the other man after the first time, when he had found a detailed write-up about his own visit to the Long Farm that Forrest had filed and sent to the mysterious leader of Deep Sky.

“I know.” Michael replied, his smile weak but real as Alex brought him closer for a slow, thorough kiss.

Alex inhaled the scent of rain into his nose as Michael melted in his arms and the kiss deepened between them. This was the opposite of friction, as they slid easily together in the doorway of the bathroom, until Alex’s stomach betrayed him thoroughly and growled. Michael broke away with a laugh, and Alex noted with relief that his earlier fragility had completely vanished from his eyes, as he headed toward the kitchen, “Come on, I made you your favorite for dinner, spicy tomato soup.”

“With strips of cheese toast?”

Michael looked offended at the question. “Of course.”

That was proof that Michael had been listening to him closely during their late night conversations, the way the subject migrated from business to the personal, until Alex had flat out whined over how terrible the food was at one of the Deep Sky outfits. “Forget looking for aliens, they should look for a new chef.” And then they were off and running about comfort food, with Michael sharing his fondness for canned spaghettios, they tasted fine cold. Sharing his own fond memory from childhood of his mother making soup as a rare show of maternal care. Melted cheese dripped over cut up toast, then dipped in the tomato soup.

The clock was still ticking in his head, counting down the end of this brief interlude of happiness. Alex laid back on his couch with a tray of soup on his lap and tried to soak in every minute. The thrill of sharing a meal together, sitting side by side on his couch with the evening news droning on in the background. It was a type of domesticity that he never thought he had wanted until Michael. His thoughts turned away from the wholesome toward the carnal as he watched Michael pucker his lips together to blow on the steaming bowl.

The food was delicious, but that was a distracting sight for anyone, let alone someone who knew just what Michael’s mouth was capable of doing.

Michael flashed a wicked smile when he caught Alex staring, picking up his strip of toast to dip in his soup and then licked it indecently clean. The perfect bow of his mouth around his food, his tongue chasing his lips for every drop of spilled soup had Alex shifting on the couch. The production lasted until Michael hit a hot place in his bowl, squeaking in shock, sending Alex into a peal of laughter at the affronted look on his face.

“Fuck, that’s hot!”

“Yes it was.”

“Asshole, I meant the soup!”

Alex laughed long and hard, his head tipped back against the couch, and after a moment, Michael joined him. Tears came to his eyes, the laughter set off each time they looked at each other. There was a point, where Alex realized he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed like that, at least not in the last year outside of talking to Michael on the phone.

It was worth it. All of it. Infiltrating Deep Sky, spending half of his time around people who would cheerfully murder an alien, even using sex to get information, the price was not too steep to pay if it meant he could protect this moment, preserve it and repeat it forever. To see laugh lines around Michael’s mouth, instead of the press of fear, he would fuck the Devil himself if it meant Michael was safe.

He slowly sobered on the couch, his laughter gone at the thought of losing this. Michael placed their empty dishes in the kitchen and then drew Alex’s foot into his lap to rub. “I can practically see the gears turning now. Relax, okay? Watching the clock doesn’t help.”

“I know,” Alex agreed quietly, pressing his foot into Michael’s grip. “I’m feeling a little guilty here, with all this pampering.”

Michael dug his thumbs into Alex’s instep, drawing a loud groan of appreciation as he worked on releasing the knots of stress. Too much time in combat boots, the calluses were thick and tough under Michael’s hands but he kept rubbing regardless.

“If that guilt motivates you into taking better care of yourself-”

“I know, I am trying. But what about you?” Alex gestured toward Michael’s face with his own look of judgment, “are you sleeping enough? Eating enough?”

“I’m also trying. It will be better once this is over. Once you get to meet the head of Deep Sky, and hack him, we’ll both sleep better.”

“If it’s ever over. I’m starting to think the leader of Deep Sky is like the Dread Pirate Roberts.”

Instead of pulling on the threads of pessimism, Michael tugged on Alex’s ankle as he crawled closer to him on the couch. As a subject change, it was a welcome one to Alex. Why dwell on the future, it was better to enjoy the present. Michael’s hands smoothed over the soft fleece of the sweatpants, sending a thrill of excitement through Alex. He slipped down on the seat to allow Michael room.

“Is it okay to pamper you a little more?” Michael asked, his eyes dark as his fingers slipped inside the waistband of Alex’s sweats. He teased at the taut muscles, stroking his fingers over the soft rasp of hair trailing downward.

“What did you have in mind?”

“When’s the last time someone’s sucked this big dick of yours?”

There was a dark hint of teasing in Michael’s voice, he was daring Alex to say a name. Forrest’s name. It was the type of playful provocation they could use with each other now, safely, the result of their late night phone calls to each other. When time was valued, what was the point of secrets between them?

Alex licked his lips absently, giving Michael a thorough head to toe look of consideration, before answering honestly, “It was in Santa Fe. At the Silver Saddle Motel. A very hot cowboy sucked me until I was hard, and then rode my dick all night long.”

Michael blinked, not expecting that answer, but pinked in pleasure. “Oh…well then, you’ve been deprived because that was months ago.” He pulled down on Alex’s sweats, letting the band of elastic tuck neatly under his balls and sat back to admire the view. Alex shifted under his eyes, his cock straining upward as Michael bent his head down. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, he’s a short guy, all of this probably doesn’t fit in his mouth,” Michael commented, wrapping his palm around Alex’s cock firmly.

“Yeah,” Alex gasped, hitching up into Michael’s grip, “small mouth, it’s hard to even kiss, impossible to fuck-” His voice gave out as Michael licked the bead of pre-cum with tip of his tongue before stretching his mouth wide. There was a way that Michael approached cock-sucking that Alex could never get over. The look of hunger and that deep breath he always took, as if he had to hold himself back to keep from gorging himself on Alex’s cock.

Alex had been deprived. Very deprived.

Slowly Michael slid his lips down on Alex’s cock, taking him deep into his mouth. His tongue, warm and firm, dragged downward. Alex cried out in pleasure, it felt so good, his hips rocking upward imperceptibly as his iron-strong control was rocked by Michael. He kept his eyes trained on Michael’s mouth, the reddening stretch of his lips wrapped tightly around his cock. Michael looked up, catching his eye and then bobbed his mouth downward.

Reaching downward, Alex placed his hand against Michael’s jaw and traced his thumb around the edge of his mouth. “So good, you take me so well, Michael.”

The praise had Michael blinking in pleasure before he redoubled his efforts in sucking. Alex gasped again, sinking deeper into Michael’s throat until his lips were kissing the sparse hair, down to the root. Fuck. He was ready to come already. Worse than the clock sweeping toward the end of the evening, was his body ready to end it now.

“Close, I’m gonna-” Alex warned, his hands going to Michael’s shoulders. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull Michael off of him, or keep Michael in place to feed him his cock in case he backed away as Alex teetered on the edge of orgasm. His grip clutched uselessly on him, but Michael showed no signs of stopping his efforts.

Kicking at the couch cushion, he lost the fight to hold back, as he felt his cock hit the back of Michael’s throat. There was a tightening around him, throat muscles working hard to swallow, and then Michael wrapped his hand back around the base of Alex’s cock to stroke him in time with his sucking. His free hand gently squeezed Alex, before rubbing a knuckle along the seam of his balls to his perineum. The outside touch against his prostate was enough to have Alex coming hard down Michael’s throat.

God it was so good. Michael knew every place to touch him. He knew to keep his mouth on Alex as he came, swallowing his release sloppily, until come and saliva leaked from his lips. It was over far too fast, but Michael held on until Alex felt the tears of overstimulation burn in his eyes. Slowly Michael softened his lips, letting Alex’s spent cock slip lazily from his messy mouth and then met Alex’s gaze with a knowing glint.

Michael knew exactly how depraved he looked.

It was too soon to get hard again, but Alex felt the twinge of it as he stared at Michael. His hands were greedy, cupping Michael’s face between them before wiping up the spill from Michael’s lips with his thumb. Two could play at that game, he thought as he brought it to his mouth.

“Fuck,” Michael swore softly, “Look at you, tasting yourself.”

“I’d rather taste you,” Alex patted the couch he was laying down on and straightened his disheveled sweatpants. “Take off those jeans and wrap those great thighs of yours around my head and let me suck you.”

“Actually, I’d rather take you to bed.”

Alex glanced at the clock behind Michael. It was close to midnight. He knew based on experience that Forrest would be by in the morning with coffee, before Alex was fully awake. It was a transparent way of trying to catch him off guard, to see if Alex would slip up with news about Michael, or any other alien. After every short trip back to Roswell, the other man had made sure to find an excuse to be in Alex’s house.

“I know I can’t stay, but I don’t want to leave.”

“I never want you to leave either.” Alex chewed on his lower lip, as Michael waited. Sensing his advantage, he tilted his head seductively, spilling his curls over one eye and then made a transparent pleading face at Alex. Laughing, Alex conceded, “Okay, okay, you can stay for a little while. Help me to bed, and set an alarm.”

***

#malex fic #roswell new mexico #not forrest long friendly #alex goes undercover #season 3 spoilers

49 notes · View notes

cg29 · 4 years ago

Text

Because of link issues with this site I’ve decided to paste my WIPS onto here as well as AO3 & FFNet. Starting with the 1st 3 chapters of the fic I’m currently working on, and have also most recently updated.

Reflections

Set after Virgil's crash during the original series episode of 'Terror in New York City.' (Season 1 episode 4) Short reflections from each of the family on nearly losing a brother and son.

Thank you to @janetm74 for the Beta on C3.

Chapter 1: Scott.

Italic/Bold speech is not mine and comes from the original episode.

“The wheels have gone; I can’t hold her… I’m… I’m going to crash!”

Scott’s heart lurched at the pure panic emanating from Virgil’s voice, but there was nothing he could do as he watched Thunderbird Two squeal across the runway with dark heavy flames springing forth. Finally, and thankfully she came to a stop and the pure white foam rained down on her distinguishing the blaze… But his little Brother was still inside… “What’s going on,” he yelled over his communicator, “why is no one getting him out?”

‘T…They’re on their way Scott,’ Brains replied, ‘I’m h…here to a…assist you with l…landing.’

‘I don’t need any damn assistance, get the med bay prepped for my brother!’

‘FAB!’

Okay, a bit harsh maybe, but Virg was in there… He’d attended too many fire related incidents, he knew the consequences if someone wasn’t rescued quickly… God damn it, they had to get him out… Finally, bringing Thunderbird One into the hangar, Scott unbuckled and shot out of his chair. The further procedures he was required to run through could wait… Virgil needed him more.

…

“How is he?” He puffed out, racing over to his father just as his two brothers were bringing Virgil out of his singed bird.

“Unresponsive… Head injury, smoke inhalation, possible broken ribs,” Gordon reeled off.

“Let’s get him to the infirmary,” Jeff said, allowing his two youngest to go ahead with Virgil before looking back to Scott, “are you coming?”

Scott heaved out a breath and nodded. “Yeah, I’m coming!”

…

A few days later��

He stared down at his sleeping brother, it could have been so much worse, and the words from that moment still danced in his mind…

“Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird One, come in Virgil... Virgil are you okay? Virgil, pull her up… Can you hear me? Come in Thunderbird Two... Virgil, you’re crashing… Pull her up… Virgil, get a grip on yourself, you’ve got to pull out of that dive!”

If his brother hadn’t dragged himself out of that dive at the last second, he wouldn’t be here… And to be honest, he didn’t know if he would be either. He would have dived Thunderbird One in after her sister ship, and tried everything within his power to pull Virgil out, but it wouldn’t have worked, and both of them would have gone down…

“You did good son.”

“Ha?” Scott mumbled, looking to his father who was standing beside him.

“You did a good job. You talked your brother through a very severe situation, and you got him home. You saved his life Scott, and because of that he will be back to himself before we know it. Now, stop thinking about the alternatives.”

“How did you know?”

“I know you,” Jeff nodded towards Virgil who was shifting in his bed, “looks like he’s waking.”

Virgil groggily forced his eyes open.

“How, are you Virgil?” Jeff questioned.

“Welcome back to the land of the living!” Scott added.

Virgil sat himself up. “What happened to Thunderbird Two?”

‘TYPICAL!’ Scott inwardly chuckled while his father went on to answer. If his brother was already worrying about his bird, then his dad was definitely right… Virgil would get better, and soon they would both be out there together again.

Chapters 2 & 3 featuring John & Gordon below the cut.

Chapter 2: John

“Thunderbird 5. My home away from home. I love being here, the solitude suits me and because of that I’m the one who is up here the most. Don’t get me wrong I adore my family and I enjoy spending time with each of them when I’m on leave but being here amongst the stars that I’ve gazed up at in wonder since I was a small boy makes me feel so peaceful. Four days ago, that tranquillity was shattered, and for the first time ever I am finding myself wishing that someone could replace me, someone could come here and take me home.

You see my first younger brother, the one who holds us altogether with his natural calming and added creative abilities was nearly killed while I was sleeping. I know, I know, me sleeping didn’t cause his crash, but if I had been awake then maybe I could have done something to help him, like hacking the Sentinel and stopping them from firing on his bird. Instead, I was on ordered downtime after two back-to-back missions which had kept me awake for over forty-eight hours. The first required Thunderbird fours assistance, the second was in space with Alan. After I called in the third requiring just Scott and Virgil my dad, believing it was a rescue that wouldn’t require my expertise, ordered me to communicate any vital information I had to my brothers, then relay Thunderbird Five’s communications to Tracy Island so I could spend the next ten to twelve hours asleep. I managed the full twelve and after a shower and food I was ready to return to work. Except, the reply I received when contacting base wasn’t the one that I was expecting.

Ten minutes it took for me to make contact, I can’t begin to explain the thoughts that had rampaged through my mind when no one was responding, Alan finally answered looking slightly pale and very tired. Immediately I demanded to know what was going on, the answer drained me completely. The Sentinel had fired missiles at Virgil, thankfully dad had been able to reach Washington and stop the meaningless attack, but the damage that had already been received was great and my little brother was extremely lucky to make it back to the island. Well, I say lucky… Head injury, smoke inhalation, broken ribs, several cuts, and bruises. Yet, it wasn’t until the following day that he regained consciousness… But he was still alive, and that’s what mattered.

After a long chat with the youngest to make sure he was coping I signed off and instantly logged into our islands security feeds so I could see the crash. Yes, I know it sounds a little morbid, but the reality was probably not as dramatic as what was playing through my mind. Thankfully, although extreme, it wasn’t. However, what seeing that crash didn’t do was alleviate the need that I still have now to see and talk to Virgil. What it did do was produce another need, one that I could do something about, and that was to make sure that the man who recklessly fired at the kindest person you could ever wish to meet receives some sort of justice. Nothing too malicious of course, we are in the business of saving lives and not taking them, but maybe I’ll put my hacking prowess to use and make sure he gets discharged from his position. Whatever I choose though won’t be pretty but will be fully deserved…

…Oh, one moment, I seem to have a call coming through from home - - - - It’s Virgil… Sorry, but I have to go, he still looks really groggy and probably won’t be able to talk for too long, but I’ve desperately been needing this chat… Catch you guys later, Thunderbird Five out.”

Chapter 3: Gordon.

The ocean before him was calm, the turbulent thoughts raging inside his heart were not. All caused by his current location. The Sentinel… Gordon had arrived two hours before and introductions had immediately been made between himself, the crew, and the Captain. The same Captain who had given the damn order to shoot Thunderbird Two down. Yes, they had presumed that an attack was possibly imminent. Nonetheless, they should have done a comprehensive check before going all gung-ho. Then they would have realised that it wasn’t a strike vessel, it was an International Rescue aircraft, and a person was on board. A person who was loved. Loved by a family who had already been torn apart by the loss of a mother and wife. A family that didn’t deserve to lose anyone else.

They had been reckless, and even though most on board had asked after the wellbeing of his teammate, the Captain, the idiot who had ordered them to fire had not made any queries. He had approached him, introduced himself, and then begun immediately filling him in on their trajectory and any further details he might need. After he had contacted Scott, the Captain had ordered one of his officers to assist, then sheepishly made his excuses and left, guilt plastered all over his face. Five minutes later Gordon was being shown to the sleeping quarters where he could get some shut eye in between any updates he needed to make.

He would probably take some downtime soon. For now, he just wanted to gaze at the ocean. The sea made everything better. Here he could switch his attention from the surface to air missile launchers that had taunted him with their sickening capabilities upon arrival, and instead concentrate on his mission. A mission that would normally be routine. Instead, two men who were trapped and injured had to wait just over twenty-four hours. Two lives might be lost because they shot his big brother down. Gordon gripped the rail and slowly breathed out while focussing on the rhythmic pulse from the ocean waves, and the fact that Virgil, although severely injured and definitely needing some time to recuperate, had survived the atrocious crash.

However, it had come so close to being a different outcome and the gut-wrenching, mind-swirling sickness at the thought of ‘what could have been’ had buried itself deeper and deeper into his heart and refused to release its grasp. Needing to go inside to retrieve Virgil had made those feelings more horrific. Sure, he had saved countless lives from fires, but to have to rescue a brother, a member of his own family, ‘that’ he wasn’t used to. His brother had been crumpled over, a deep cut on his head was bleeding, and his eyes were tightly closed. For a horrible moment, both himself and Alan had stood there before moving forwards. He thought he had lost Virgil, that his big brother was already dead. Thankfully, upon reaching him a pulse was discovered. Virgil was alive. Professionalism immediately kicked in, and he and Alan worked together to get him on a stretcher and out of there as quickly as possible.

Since then, Alan had avoided Virgil. Obviously, the kid was still in shock and processing what had happened. Hopefully, by the time he returned his little brother would have gone to see Virgil, otherwise he would need to drag him in there. Of course, he had done the complete opposite and had not wanted to leave his brother’s side. He needed to ease up though. Virgil knew what his game was and had tried to reassure him several times that he wasn’t going to disappear on him. Yes, he would need to step back a little when he returned, after he had once again checked that his kind-hearted, generous brother was still alive and well.

His ever-forgiving brother, who never held a grudge, had even suggested that they use the Sentinel to save lives. Okay, that made sense, the two men were trapped; their lives were what mattered, not how he felt about the Sentinel. Unfortunately, Gordon wasn’t that big of a person, and boy was he stewing over his feelings right now. A yawn emitted from him, and he looked at his watch. There was still just over two hours to go before he needed to check-in with Scott. Plenty of time for a power nap in the quarters. He certainly needed one. During the past week he’d either been helping out with two, doing his usual maintenance checks or sitting by his brothers’ side and he hadn’t managed a lot of downtime.

Tomorrow would bring a tough rescue and he needed his full alertness to save the two men, especially with the lack of time they would have left. There was also Virgil’s ‘big brother’ voice inside his head yelling at him to get some down time. He breathed in the fresh air, allowing the knowledge that he would continue hearing his brother’s nagging to engulf him. A smile formed. That’s what mattered, not his infuriation towards the Captain, or his current location. Virgil was alive. Thunderbird Two would be restored to her former glory. His eyes switched from the azure sea to the vastness overhead. Then, one day soon she would be soaring with her pilot, his best big brother, through those illustrious oceanic blue skies.

chapter 4 Here...

#Thunderbirds Fanfiction #Thunderbirds #Thunderbirds Original Series #Terror in New York City #Thunderbirds OS #Thunderbirds Are Go

19 notes · View notes

goose-books · 4 years ago

Photo

goose-books productions: a 2020 review

view the image in higher quality here! (open the image in a new tab to zoom in.) thank you to my dearest @yvesdot for the template

transcripts and month-by-month details under the cut! for reference, you can find my projects here :-) overall, new and old followers, thank you for another good year over here! [holds your hand] [holds your hand] [holds your hand] [holds your h

january

i spent late 2019-early 2020 working on 2019’s nano project, quark, aka the speculative fiction thing about new york city and prophets and dissections of the chosen one trope and gay people. quark is my second-oldest project (five years!), but it’s also probably the most ambitious, so it’s been... difficult to wrangle into place, and i didn’t end up finishing a first draft. oh, well.

enjoy a snippet that is devastatingly emblematic of everything about quark. the tone. the homoerotic tension. the ensemble cast all talking over each other. the fact that caelum has spent pretty much this entire scene crying. fun autopsy report meeting.

Marble stares at the notebook in Shade’s hands. Or maybe he’s staring at Shade’s hands. Dawn feels a little voyeuristic, so she does what she does and says a dumb and unrelated thing: “Augustus, I think this pizza-on-the-floor thing is hurting my ass.”

Augustus flutters his hands. “Sometimes nonconformity is painful.”

“At least we’re originals,” Caelum mumbles into his sleeve.

“Exactly,” Augustus says.

“True originality doesn’t exist,” Marble says.

“Oh,” Shade deadpans, “it’s going to be a fun autopsy report meeting.”

It isn’t.

february

in january i stressed myself out trying to make the plot of quark work. so in february, i decided to take some time and write something Entirely For Fun. like, entirely for fun, no rules. and. my god. how do i explain the project i started calling “third eye for the bad guy.”

it was an unholy mashup of many of my past hyperfixations, including the gone series, a tale of two cities, warrior cats, and the left hand of darkness. one of the characters was a canon scalie and one was a canon fictionkinnie. it centered around a polycule of wannabe-evil-overlord high schoolers. i only wrote like three chapters but i was lost in the sauce for all of february and then i just… like… wiped it from my mind and moved on? somehow??? one character was a werewolf and that literally wasn’t relevant at ALL

Someone was going to die on these steps.

This had been Ivy Lee Palomo’s thought last year during the all-school photo, and it rose in her mind again now. The one hundred marble stairs leading up to the great double doors of Saint Constantine Academy were the school’s pride and glory, steep as the mountain, sharp as the blade under Ivy Lee’s skirt. With the cutting wind and snow glazing the stone more often than not, with the freshmen wild and wired on their first day of their first year, it was really only a matter of time before someone slipped and cracked their fucking head open.

It wasn’t going to be her. Not when she had Doc Martens and reflexes like an electric coil. Still. Ivy Lee didn’t want to watch someone die. She didn’t get along with dead people.

march

in march, i got back to the project i’d started in 2019 - AMT, my podcast! it’s a shakespeare retelling set in a modern high school; this excerpt is funnier and also more unnerving in context. (double, double, toil and trouble...)

INDRAJIT: What the hell are you doing?

[PAUSE.]

DEE (like she’s lying): Making pasta.

[ALL THREE OF THEM LAUGH.]

NONA: That’s right.

MORA: We have the keys to Mab’s office.

DEE: We’re using her stove.

NONA: To make pasta.

DEE: Do you want some?

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

INDRAJIT: No.

april

and darkling rears its head! all of my other projects have existed for at least a year; darkling (specfic king lear retelling) is... special. it was conceived in april, when i started hyperfixating on king lear, and i still managed to write an absolutely ridiculous amount of content for it. it was like the power of hyperfixation let me speedrun the entire process. which. okay.

iv: control

They say Cressida Stayer was nine years old when she turned her hair to gold. They laid her down in bed blonde, and the next morning, the waves cascading down her shoulders were solid metal, glinting harshly in the sunlight, weighing her down, creating that odd head-cocked expression she still wears now. Nine years old. Two or three years before most people develop enough magic skills to dye a single curl. Much less transfigure their hair into precious metal.

People also say Leovald Stayer’s immediate reaction was to hack it off her head and melt it down for cash. But generally they say that part a lot quieter.

may

in may i wrote AMT episode 15, by which i mean that in may there was a day when i sat in my room with the door shut for literally five straight hours listening to the same three songs on loop as i wrote the climax of one of the plotlines of AMT. so. that sure was… a day.

ISAAC: Do you want… do you want someone to drive you home? Hawk, you’re worrying me -

HAWK (almost cutting him off): Don’t. Don’t say that. I’m here to help. With your… thing.

ISAAC (quietly): I… don’t know if you should be here to see this.

HAWK (a little louder, more audibly upset): Well - what else am I going to do? Go home and - and have my dads talk at me and - and not be able to answer them? Because I can’t? I can’t. I don’t know what to say.

[PAUSE.]

ISAAC (V.O.): I wonder if this is what he feels like, on the outside, looking in at me. Watching someone else hurting. Helpless and afraid.

He still fits perfectly in my arms. I rest my chin on top of his head and pull him close to me, like I can stop him from shaking, like I can stop anything from happening the way I know it’s going to. I bury my face in his hair. He smells so familiar. He’s so warm.

God, Hawk. I love you so much. You shouldn’t be here to see this. Something bad’s gonna happen. And you’re not the kind of person who belongs in a tragedy.

june

okay, honestly, i should talk about “night shift” here, because in june i wrote a whole short story in one night (and then foamed over it for a week), but i am still in the process of submitting it places! so i am terrified to put even a sentence of it online. instead: the other thing i did this month was to finish AMT! (sixteen episodes and somewhere around 175k, iirc, but don’t quote me.) these lines are the opener to the final episode!

RAHMA (V.O.): The combined series of sophomore year disasters stretched through November. It’s June now. It’s taken me… a long time to get this all put together. I was going to make a vlog about it, initially - well, calling it a vlog sounds frivolous. I was going to make a video recounting the whole deal. All of it. From when I kissed Avery Fairchilde to the very last night. I scripted dozens of drafts; I put together dozens of bullet-pointed lists of what to cover… and it was never enough. Because Avery and I weren’t the only ones involved. Even if I was only focused on the two of us, it wasn’t just the two of us.

So… I gathered up everyone else. The whole town of Ellisburg is still talking about the week the town went crazy, but it wasn’t just a week. There was a lot leading up to it. And I think if anyone’s going to talk about it, it should be us. The people who lived it. So here we are. The most ambitious Rahma Ashiq production of all time - at least so far.

july

every july i pause whatever else i’m doing to celebrate the birthday of aurum & argentate, twins from my oldest and dearest WIP The Mortal Realm. july fifteenth! mark your calendars. they’re princes, though argentate would really rather not be; you can read the full birthday piece here.

“Do you… plan to get dressed?” A bit of the usual humor crept back into Aurum’s voice. “Although if you want to speak to the kingdom in your underthings, by all means, you have my full support.”

Argentate scrubbed at his face. He wasn’t dressed, no, but the usual malaise hung over his shoulders like a cloak. Guilt. Nerves. The sick sense that he hadn’t done something he was supposed to. The numb knowledge that it was too late to change a thing.

“I meant to,” he said. “Get dressed, I mean.” The rest went unsaid: I have just been sitting here. On the floor. Thinking about how I should get dressed.

“Ah,” Aurum said, extending his hand. “The traditional route. We’ll save the nude speeches for the future, then.”

Argentate took his hand, stumbling a little as Aurum pulled him to his feet. He steadied himself on the closest wall, taking a few deep breaths. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. His hands found their way to the cross, again and again.

august

this summer, i wrote an entire draft of Valentine Van Velt is Dead, AKA “holden caulfield goes to exposure therapy,” AKA the weird little personal side project i keep tucked into my coat. interesting features include second-person narration from a narrator who doesn’t like the main character all that much. so reading it is kind of like the book wants to kill you? with an added dash of general melancholy.

You used to live here. That’s the thing that’s got you feeling so off.

You didn’t recognize your old house. I mean, you kind of did. You remembered that the road was on a hill. That hill felt like a goddamn forty-five degree angle when you were a kid. But if you didn’t have the address written down you wouldn’t have known it at all. It would have been just another little suburban house in rows of perfect little towns that make your skin crawl.

So now you’re in this diner looking out a gross smudgy window trying to block out the elevator music pumping through the speakers in the ceiling or whatever. I don’t know how speakers work. You’re trying to tune that shit out. The waitress comes over and catches you by surprise so you just point at some coffee thing on the menu so she’ll go away. For the record: you don’t drink coffee.

There’s a public library across the street. A little square building. You probably used to go there. The lady comes over and thunks your coffee on the table and gives you a kind of look, like she wants to know what in the goddamn hell you think you’re doing here and not at school. You sip your coffee and look out the window until she leaves you alone again. And then you spit it back into the cup because, for the record: you don’t drink coffee.

september

i spent september and october prepping for nano, so i was mostly working on darkling...

It’s late spring; still, at this time of night, on a rooftop, there’s a chill. The wind plays with the end of Ruby’s coat, with her hair. She hands the bottle off to Jasper, stares up at the fogged-over sky, wishes she were lying in Dany’s arms in Dany’s bed instead of here. Wishes, even, that Dany were the one on the roof with her. At least then they’d be cold together. At least then she wouldn’t have to imagine what Dany would say; she could just listen, and watch Dany’s flashing smile and her flinty eyes.

(She cuddles. This is another thing Dany does that Dany probably shouldn’t do, based on everything about Dany; it’s not like rattlesnakes cuddle. But Dany likes to nuzzle into Ruby’s side and rest her head on Ruby’s collarbones and toss an arm over Ruby’s chest, and hold her down like she’s worried she’ll float off somewhere. She’ll card her fingers through Ruby’s hair and hum. Even though they could get caught, even though she’s probably got better places to be - Dany cuddles.)

Ruby imagines it, momentarily, both of them on the roof together, sprawled like horrifyingly beautiful gargoyles, sharp teeth flashing, blood running hot. Up here - it’d be like they ruled the world.

But whatever. Jasper’s fun. He’s hot. He’s got a sharp tongue in a lot more ways than one. And she likes when he lets the mask down. She likes seeing the soft bits underneath. She wants to sink her teeth and nails into them so hard she draws blood. Masks don’t bleed. Ruby would know; that’s why she is what she is.

october

...though i was also in creative writing class in school, and thus ended up writing a bunch of poems of varying quality (my teacher had a real thing for poetry) and also one darklingverse short story where rory and cressida hold hands! which you can find here.

Lorelai Rory Flowers is afraid of thunder.

This is a bit of an embarrassing thing to admit, as they’re seventeen (“at least seventeen,” they like to tell people, “maybe two hundred, who’s to say?”) and generally wise beyond their years, or whatever it is that adults say about kids with too much psychological baggage. Being afraid of thunder is not a very wise-beyond-one’s-years trait. And yet the state of affairs remains: loud noises make Rory want to melt into the earth. Back when they still went to school, even the fire alarm sent them scuttling under their desk to hide.

Right now, in the elevator, all they can do is shrink into their sweater.

They haven’t let go of Cressida’s hand yet.

november

and then november of course was nano which was an adventure all the way through. (opening tumblr on the fifth day of nano to find out about d*stiel... was something.)

“Apologize to me. Or get out of my house.”

Gracen’s voice is very, very low. For a moment she thinks he hasn’t heard her at all. Then he spins, eyes blazing. “What did you say?”

Gracen watches her own chest heave. She pushes herself up off the desk, stands with the effort of pushing a mountain off of her back. Leovald is six-foot-four. Gracen is six-foot-two. In her heels, in the heels she must wear to be a professional woman, to be a lady - they are the same height.

Gracen wipes her nose. When she lowers her arm, there’s a streak of blood across the back of her hand. Fire shivers in her chest; her heart rings in her ears; her voice could cut steel.

“I said,” she says, low, slow, volume building, “apologize to me. Or get. Out. Of. My. House.”

december

and finally, the poem i posted this year! it’s called the beast sonnet, and you can find it in its own post over here (with commentary! how sexy.)

i kill the beast and drop down to my knees, my blade stained dark with blood of stygian hue, and for a moment these scarred hands shake free, and hold a world unfurled for me anew. but once-mourned victims, victors, vices find; fear winged me; now its absence strips me bare. my sword now dulls, my legs, my voice, my mind; the beast, pried from my throat, leaves no skill there. and still i hear it laugh, O DEVOTEE— O CHILD DEAR, NO GLORY WITHOUT ME.

i was quite productive this year; i have to think it was because i was avoiding things... the peak of my productivity happened over the summer and in november, AKA, college app hell. (almost done with the last applications! pray for me.)

a general breakdown of what occupied me this year:

(no, i don’t know why the “various other things” category ended up so large... i blame all the one-off projects i wrote a single page for, and also whatever the fuck happened in february. yes, i do know why it looks hideous; it’s because each of my WIPs has a theme color

thank you once again for spending some time at goose-books dot gov this year! what to expect for next year: well, i very much hope i can produce AMT... also hoping to get darkling ready for beta readers, so keep your eyes out!

#max.txt #and that's a wrap!!! what a goddamn year.#okay. breath in. tags:#quark tag #third eye tag #(i think there are like. two posts in that one?)#amt tag #darkling tag #tmr tag #vvvid tag #wow that was a lot of text. if you read all this... [blows you a kiss] thank you!#max actually writes #year in review

15 notes · View notes

krixel · 4 years ago

Text

So, I’ve had a horrendous fucking week (family, am I right?) and I have, admittedly, had more than one glass of Scotch to drink (family, am I right?) but I was doing a dive into my old Beyblade Tala/Trey WIPs, which were written entirely for me because I’d never ever considered the thought of coming back to posting fanfiction, let alone Tala/OC fanfiction - that joke is forever on me but GLU is my trope riddled passion project baby that you can pry from my cold dead hands - and I’d forgotten about this bizarre Tala has a twin, whose identity he stole, government experiment mess of an AU that I still love.

So yeah, here’s the less than 2,000 words start of that story, because why not? So, if you’re at all interested in another Tala/Trey AU where they’re established and Tala has a twin... here it is. Also, my writing is rough, because it’s from 3 years ago, and I wrote it on my phone while I was making dinner.

The door opened once the stairs had been secured, and the ball of tension that had started in his stomach crawled up Kai’s throat. There was only a single passenger on the private jet, and the afternoon sun gleamed against his blond hair as he emerged. A laptop bag was slung across his body and he gripped the handle of a small suitcase. Kai would never get used to seeing him; a grownup version of a past ghost. Kai pushed off the hood of his Mercedes and moved to meet the newcomer as he reached the tarmac. Blue eyes - hollow and colder than the snow that fell around them - gave him a once over before he tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Kai. I see my brother still has you running his errands like a good dog.”

“Mikaela. I see time has done nothing to improve your charm,” Kai said, resisting the urge to scold the other for his casual use of his relationship with Tala.

“Forgive me. Unlike others, I cannot put on a false face when looking at one of the people who ruined my life,” Mikaela said, striding past Kai and towards the awaiting car.

Kai rolled his eyes but followed the other to the car. He popped the trunk but did not offer to put away Mikaela’s luggage. His unwelcome guest took the hint and did it himself. He climbed into the passenger seat, and Kai was hitting the gas almost before the door closed. “We did give you a choice,” Kai said after a while. “You chose to keep breathing.”

Mikaela huffed, the sound brushing against amusement, and eyed Kai from his peripheral. “I have always been curious, Kai. In all these years, other than the one obvious crime, you seem to be a decent sort of person. How do you stomach calling a monster like my brother friend?”

Kai’s knuckles whitened around the steering wheel, but his tone was a notch above boredom. “Tala is my best friend,” he said. “And if I have ever given you the impression that I was decent, then I apologize. Tala was the one who wanted to let you live. I told him it was smarter to kill you. You're a liability.”

“How quaint, after all, was I not Tala, once upon a time?”

“Not in any of the ways that matter,” Kai said.

Mikaela clicked his tongue but said nothing else for the remainder of the drive, just propped his chin on his fist and watched the once familiar city pass by the window. As Kai pulled into the underground parking for Tala’s building, Mikaela tensed, gloved hands curling into fists at the pressing darkness. Kai scoffed as he shut off the car. “Relax, Mikaela,” he said. “You're the one who wanted an in-person meeting, so don't act like we're going to drag you out back and shoot you.”

“Given past experience, can you blame me?” Mikaela asked as he pushed open the car door, hiding his relief at finding it unlocked.

Kai shrugged and tucked his hands in his pockets as he waited for the other to retrieve his suitcase. “Like I said, you’re the one who wanted to be here.”

“Wanted is an exceptionally powerful word. I was put in a situation that was unsafe to express by any other means,” Mikaela said. He popped the handle on his suitcase and followed Kai to the side door of the building. A man with a buzz cut and arms the size of tree trunks opened the door for them, acknowledging Kai with a grunt and frowning at Mikaela.

Kai returned the nod, a wry smile twisting his lips. “Leave him be for now. Tala will let you know if that changes.”

Mikaela bristled at the threat but under the brutal look from the guard - more like ex-military or grizzly bear fighter - kept his mouth shut. As Kai cleared both the retinal scanner and fingerprint, Mikaela lifted an eyebrow. “A bit paranoid, isn't he?”

“Can't imagine why?” Was the dry response as Kai turned his key and the elevator finally started its ascent.

Despite the massive height of the building, the elevator ride was quick and silent, and Mikaela’s lip curled in disgust at the lavish foyer beyond the wrought iron gate. Kai unlocked it and pushed it aside, then motioned Mikaela out first before he followed. Mikaela towed off his boots by the door, but made no effort to remove his jacket or scarf. Kai patted him on the shoulder as he walked by, his smile just the dull side of vicious. “Island life thin your Russian blood? Or are you not planning to stay long?”

“He won't be staying long.” Tala stepped out of the living room, the sound of the tv still audible in the openess of his penthouse, and stood with a hand braced on his hip. “Hello, Mika.”

Blue eyes clashed, one pair narrowing while the other glittered with deceptive amusement. Mikaela fought down a snarl, but his expression remained blank. If he let Tala rile him so soon, they would get nowhere. “Yuriy.” Mikaela looked around their surroundings before his attention returned to the redhead. “It looks like you are doing well for yourself.”

Tala’s smile sharpened against the whetstone of the taunt. “You act like I don't share it with you,” he said. “Or is there something you want that I haven't given you?”

“What I want cannot be bought, no matter how much wealth you accumulate,” Mika said.

Tala shrugged. “I better not have flown you all the way here just to rehash your grievances against me, Mika,” he said. “Getting you back into the country undetected wasn't easy.”

“I wasn't aware I existed, as far as anyone else was concerned.”

Before the rising tension could escalate further another set of footsteps sounded from the direction of the living room. Trey came around the corner, eyes flicking towards Kai, then the newcomer, and then back to Kai. “Damn. I thought you left to get pizza,” she said. “Is that even a thing here? You guys do have pizza in Russia, right? Oh my god, if not I need to go home, right now.”

Tala snorted at his girlfriend, his shoulders easing despite the proximity of Mika, and Kai resisted the urge to hug Trey for her brilliance. There was no way she'd missed the rising threat in the foyer, but she diffused Tala with the expertise of a bomb unit. She moved to Tala’s side, tucking herself under his arm and against his side. “Why do all of your friends look like they walked off magazine covers? Seriously?”

“We are not friends,” Mika said, eyes surveying Trey with confusion. He was the dirty little secret Tala kept locked far away from him, and yet Tala did not seem at all concerned about the girl’s presence.

“Co-worker? Arch nemesis? Is that still a thing?”

“Twin brother, though I suppose arch nemesis isn't entirely out of the question,” Tala cut her off.

Even Kai’s eyebrows lifted at Tala’s casual admittance to Mika’s identity. Trey blinked, and waited for the punchline, though as she looked closer it was impossible to deny the resemblance - really it came down to Tala’s ridiculous hair. And then with the horror of someone who has just realized they left their child at a store, said, “You mean there's two of you in the world?”

“It's still up for debate which one is the evil one,” Kai said, as he shrugged out of his jacket.

“You knew?” Trey asked, then frowned at the obvious question. “Of course you knew. You just picked him up from the airport.”

Tala smiled as Trey devolved into her nervous rambling, and tightened his arm around her. “Why don’t you go spend some time with Kai while Mika and I catch up?”

Trey blinked at the obvious dismissal, but nodded. Tala tended to tell her the truth, so if he wanted her gone for that conversation then he had good reason. Trey lifted on her toes and Tala tilted his head down to meet her kiss. He lifted his arm and Trey shuffled away from him, sparing a glance for Mika. “Um… nice to meet you?” Mika stared at her without expression and said nothing. “Right, or not, I guess.”

Tala’s eyes narrowed but said nothing, and Trey crossed the foyer to Kai, who rolled his eyes and ushered her towards the stairs. “Ignore him,” he said. “Mika hates Tala and anyone associated with him. It's nothing personal to you.”

“So, Tala has a twin?” she asked. “And they hate each other, but no one thought to mention it.”

Kai ran his hand through his hair, expression pinched with frustration. “It's complicated, and probably better left for Tala to explain,” he said. “I wouldn't even know where to start. I'm sorry he showed up now, though, while your here. It’s not going to make for the best vacation.”

“It seemed serious,” Trey said, remembering the black mood Tala descended into after that particular phone call. “And you seemed surprised Tala introduced us?”

“I was,” Kai said, opening the door to the game room and letting Trey step through first. “Tala is - guarded - about Mika.”

Trey flopped onto one of the couches in the room, propping her chin on her fist. “You thought Tala would lie to me?” Her tone walked a delicate balance between curiosity and hurt, and Kai realized his next words needed to be careful.

“Yes,” he admitted, and took a seat on a chair facing Trey. “About Mika’s identity, at least. It's hard to explain without explaining everything, but no one knows about Mika except me, and Ian because he hacked Tala’s files once.”

Trey laughed. “Tala had to be furious.”

Kai’s smile was faint. “Ian stayed with me for a couple of weeks while Tala calmed down,” he said. “I think that's the maddest I’ve ever seen him at Ian, but it worked out. Ian lives here, better for him to know.”

“But not me?”

Kai shook his head. “If that were the case, Tala wouldn't have introduced you. Believe me, I’m relieved. Don't mistake my surprise for judgment.”

“Why is the fact that Tala has a twin such a big deal?”

“Because, if the wrong people found out, it would end me,” Tala said.

Kai and Trey looked up at the intrusion and Tala smiled. He sat down beside Trey and adjusted when she cuddled against his side. “Mika’s getting settled,” Tala said to Kai’s look. “I figured you’d be giving her cryptic explanations, and thought it'd be better for me to just explain.”

“I wish someone would,” Trey said, elbowing Tala in the ribs.

Tala kissed the top of her head. “Knowing my darkest secrets isn't as appealing as it might seem, just ask Kai,” he said. “Last chance to bow out.”

“Tala, you were a psychotic lunatic I used to hate. Let's be clear that my opinion of you is pretty low, already,” Trey said.

The tension in Tala eased again and he relaxed against her. “Right. Somehow, I keep forgetting that bit.”

#holy dialogue exposition dump batman #yikes this is rough #but also nice to see how I've improved #and literally was never intended for more eyes than mine #and I already knew the story #so yeah #here's a thing #excuse me while I go panic about posting it later #er also zero intention of ever continuing this #it's literally here for kicks

2 notes · View notes

mrslittletall · 6 years ago

Text

Title: A Storm is coming (Chapter 13) Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Chosen Undead/Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Big Hat Logan Word Count: 4.703 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16603610/chapters/47875039 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/186256442489/title-a-storm-is-coming-chapter-12

Summary: Ornstein and Tempest go back into the archives, but a plan has to be formed before they can challenge the pale drake. Maybe they can find some hints in the giant library?

(Author's note: My apologies for the wait on this chapter. I needed to write out some Bloodborne stuff and finish one of my other WIPs but now I was able to dive back into this and we are even going back into the action.

Maybe we get this first lord soul soon ^^)

Ornstein found Tempest waiting in front of the cathedral, dressed in the black leather set he already had worn earlier in the kitchen, topped with a gargoyle's helmet, a silver knight straight sword in his right hand and a knight's shield in his left.

“We trained so that you wouldn't have to rely on a shield.”, Ornstein scolded him, a frown on his forehead.

“I know.”, Tempest said. “I just... I feel a little more secure with it?”

“As long as it doesn't slow us down.” Ornstein had to admit, with the myriads of archers in the archives, a shield would be nice. Especially because the little storm didn't exactly wore armour that would secure peak protection of any sharp projectiles coming his way.

“Let's go.”, Ornstein sighed. He wanted to get this over with. Hopefully the training would expose itself as fruitful and they were out of this place before the sun got dropped and replaced with the moon.

Before they set off, Ornstein noticed that the two giant sentinels normally guarding the front gate of the cathedral were gone.

“Huh, seems like my training already paid off.”, he murmured.

“These guys!”, Tempest suddenly blurted out. “They look far more intimidating than they are. They are big, but slow. After training with you their movements felt like someone cast a slowing spell on them.”

“Good, that means you will help me getting rid of the ones guarding the way to the archives.”, Ornstein said.

“Oh, darn! I forgot they were more of them!”, Tempest shoulders hung low.

“Let's... let's just go.”, Ornstein scratched one spike of his helmet, hand clutched around his spear which was standing loosely on the gorund.

The both of them walked in silence until they came to their usual training grounds, where Tempest excused himself to use the bonfire. Ornstein also heard him chat with the dark moon knightess. She apparently told him a few details about Seath. Nothing special. She certainly left out the more juicy details.

“Please excuse the wait.”, Tempest came running back to Ornstein with a smile on his face. Damn, it was that cute smile. That one that was half a grin and half joyful. Ornstein quickly jerked his head around and was very interested in the cobblestone instead.

“Shouldn't you be more nervous?”, he asked.

“I am nervous! We are going to fight a dragon! But at the same time, I am sure everything will turn out alright, because I am with you.”

That hit right into Ornstein's heart. How could this little Undead put so much trust into him after that sparse time they had spent together? “That.. that hasn't something to do with you or such.”, he said, head high, prideful. He had to show that he was a lion. He was the dragon slayer, not some babysitter. “I simply follow Gwyndolin's orders.”

“Yes, right.”, Tempest said, unsheathing his sword as they walked towards the building which contained the statue of Smough.

… Lately Ornstein hadn't thought much about Smough, but laying his eyes on this statue, the feelings rushed back to him and he just stood there, eyes locked on it, trying to fight the urging tears back.

“Um, Ornstein, a little help?”

Ornstein groaned as he saw that the little storm had managed to get picked up by the scruff of the neck by one of the sentinel's halberd: “How have you managed that, idiot?!”

“I thought you would help!”, he cried as Ornstein already rushed in to take care of the giant sentinel who had Tempest on his weapon. Once he dissipated, Tempest murmured: “Oh no, that is not good...” before falling right into Ornstein's arm.

“Th.. thanks for catching me.”, he said, his face seemed to be heated, with a slight red on his cheeks.

“I.. I just caught you because you were practically falling into my arms... that means nothing.”, Ornstein said, putting the Undead on the ground. Damn, his own face felt flushed too.

“Careful, the other one!”, Tempest shouted and rolled out of the way just in time before the halberd crashed on the ground.

“Take care of it yourself.”, Ornstein ordered. “I took care of the other one.”

“Alright!”, Tempest took his sword in both hands, circled the sentinel and hacked away at it until it collapsed and disintegrated into the magic it existed of. Now only the sentinel in front of the archives was left and was no match for their combined power.

“Do we need to take care of the boars a second time, too?”, Tempest asked.

“I don't think so. These aren't illusions or hollows. They probably have been the last ones in Lordran.”, Ornstein replied.

And, in fact, the boars were gone so that Ornstein and Tempest had a very uneventful trip through the hallways, where Tempest sat down at the bonfire. “At least getting here was a breeze.”, he murmured.

“Yes, but the real challenge begins now.”, Ornstein said. “So, what things don't we do once in there?”

“Not going through any fog gates without asking first.”

“Good, what else?”

“Not storming off on my own.”

“Perfect.”

Ornstein was more than satisfied and stood up. Soon, the little storm followed him as he stepped on the elevator.

“So, when we are up there, we lure the melee fighters to the platform and then I rush forward and take care of the archers.”, Ornstein explained, earning a little nod of Tempest.

That plan worked flawlessly and while Tempest was busy fending off the crystal hollows on the elevator, Ornstein took care of the archers without effort before returning to the small Undead and help him dispatch the last foe.

As they wandered to the doorway leading into the library, Ornstein heard the very distinct sound of a soul arrow and quickly hid behind the wall. The little storm however, wasn't that quick and got quite a hit on his right arm.

“Ow.”, he hissed and nestled for his estus flask to heal the damage. “Ornstein, what are we doing?”

Ornstein peaked into the room. That the channeler was back was baffling for him. They weren't Undead. Just how many loyal channelers had Seath left?

“There are crystal hollows left and right. When we want to get rid of the channeler, they will surely sneak up. However, see this large book cases? When each of us takes care of the crystal hollows behind them, the magic can't come through and once we are done dispatching them, one of us can take care of the archers behind the channeler while the other takes care of him.”

“Can I fight the channeler..? I am pretty sure once I have faced one of them and.. I just want to try.”, Tempest asked.

“You sure about this, little storm?”, Ornstein grinned. What had happened to the scaredy cat the first time they had been here? Tempest nodded to him.

“Very well then, let's go. I'll go right, you'll go left.”

Ornstein didn't wait for Tempest to acknowledge his words and took care of his portion of crystal hollows right away, all while he heard the sounds of soul arrows hitting the book shelves. Luckily, the channelers Seath still had with him didn't seem to be of the brightest sort. Once Ornstein had managed to to take care of his batch of hollows, he cowered behind the shelf and waited for Tempest.

He could hear the clanking of a sword on crystal, the sound of a club hitting a shield and some mild cussing as Tempest seemed to make his way through his batch of hollows. Soon after, he came in sight, taking a sip out of his estus flask.

“Ready?”, Ornstein signed with his fingers and Tempest nodded. Ornstein made sure to get rid of the archers as Tempest approached the channeler.

After Ornstein had zigzagged between all of the archers on the stairs to make sure that no arrows would come Tempest way, he leaned against the railing and watched the battle of the channeler and the little storm. Clumsy like always, but at least the rolls of the small Undead managed to actually avoid any damage and soon after he drove his sword deep into the channelers back, blood splattering on the ground.

“I did it!”, he cheered, bending down to pick up the trident of the channeler. “Oh look, he left his weapon.”

“Don't waste time with this, you are not a sorcerer.”, Ornstein complained.

“Ornstein! You could have helped me!”, Tempest shouted as he saw how casual the dragon slayer was leaning against the wall.

“Why, weren't you eager to fight him all by yourself?”, Ornstein scoffed. “You are lucky he didn't teleport away! Probably thought you were easier to take down than me!”

Grumbling, Tempest walked up the stairs, trident still in his hands. “So you are telling me, you were helping just by standing around?”

“Yes.”, Ornstein couldn't help but grin under his helmet.

Now that a majority of the crystal hollows had been taken care off and the rest of them were patrolling around the landings, soon the both of them stood in front of the fog gate.

“I think I can hear him breathing...”, Tempest murmured, an ear pressed against the fog gate.

“The first time you were in there, did you notice anything?”, Ornstein asked.

“No. It was too quick. There were crystals on the ground and then I died.”

“Crystals... I know that Seath experimented a lot. I wonder if he used to try and replace his scales with something?”

“Now that you mention it, I could get a glimpse at him and I think I indeed saw some crystals sprouting out of his body.”

“It's probably safe to say that Seath has done something to his body to secure that he can't get hurt. Before we haven't found out what it is, we shouldn't face him.”

“How shall we find this out?”

“We are in the archives.”

Tempest felt a drop of sweat form on his forehead upon the realization of Ornstein's words: “There must be millions of books here!”

“Not millions, but thousands indeed. Searching through them would indeed be too much. For now, I suggest we go back and search for anything that can help us. Maybe Seath left some notes for us to find.”

Tempest silently followed Ornstein back into the large library room.

“So, where do we start?”, Ornstein asked.

“How about we check left and right the stairs we used to get to the elevator?”, Tempest suggested.

“Sounds good, let's go.”

On their way, Ornstein scanned the book shelves, but he couldn't find anything worthwhile. Seath probably wouldn't just file his personal notes next to the usual books. When they would be able to find some secret stash of books, a place were Seath stored all that knowledge he had collected during the centuries...

“Hey, look, there's a chest!”, Tempest called and rushed over, flipping it open.

Upon seeing this, Ornstein cleared his throat: “What are we doing when we see chests?”

Tempest shrank in fear and took a step back, but approached the chest again when it didn't spawn teeth. “...Checking if it is a mimic.”, he answered.

“You were lucky this wasn't one.”, Ornstein said and came nearer to look at the contents of the chest. Tempest was holding a twinkling titanite.

“Hm, that certainly strengthen the theory that Seath uses crystals.”, Ornstein said. “Twinkling Titanite was pretty important for the silver knights too, their weapons could only be reinforced with it. You should hold onto that, you surely can use it for your sword.”

“Guess I have to pay Andre a visit after we are done.”, Tempest pocketed the item.

“Andre?”

“A blacksmith in the Undead Parish.”

Ah, another Undead probably. For the Undead, having weapons in top condition was very important, so a blacksmith would probably swim in souls when they opened up shop in Lordran.

“There doesn't seem to be anymore here. Let's check the other side.”, Tempest rushed forward. Ornstein calmly followed him. His walking speed was more than enough to keep up with the little storm.

“Hey, I see another chest!”, Tempest called and rushed over to it only to get hit by a crystal hollow that came out of a small alcove.

“Ow!”, he shouted, swinging his sword blindly. “Where did you come from?”

Ornstein didn't rush to come over and dispatched the second crystal hollow, who came from the balcony, in one hit.

“That's why we don't rush.”, he said, leaning against the wall. Tempest's eyes were fixated on something else.

“There's something lying there!”, he rushed outside and came back with another twinkling titanite in his hand. “Huh, Seath really liked this things. They are everywhere.”

“It's safe to say he experimented with it. Why do you think all the hollows in here are crystallized?”

“Makes sense, yeah.”, Tempest focused his attention on the two crystal hollows guarding the chest. He glanced at Ornstein. Sighing, the lion knight rushed forward with him and took care of one of the crystal hollows.

“Now.”, Tempest said, taking a sip of his estus after his own foe was down. “Now I check, if it is a mimic.” With that, Tempest gave the chest a heavy kick.

“No, you idiot! Use your weapon!”, Ornstein shouted, but it was already too late, the mimic had gotten Tempest's leg and eagerly chewed on it.

“Ornstein, help!”, the little Undead screamed and Ornstein abandoned his spear to put both hands under Tempest's shoulder and pull the idiot out of the iron grip. As Ornstein did his best to not let get Tempest eaten, the little storm wildly swung around his sword, getting quite a few hits on the mimic until it had enough and spew him out.

With the force Ornstein had used to pull Tempest, that meant that the both of them were practically falling on the ground, Tempest on top of him.

“Th.. thank you...”, Tempest said. Ornstein could see how red his face was. Damn, his own face felt as red as the one of the little storm.

“I.. I just need you with both legs, that's all.”, Ornstein said, head to the side, not having the courage to look the small Undead in the eyes.

“I, uh, better heal this wound.”, Tempest said, getting up and limping away a few steps before taking a sip of his Estus. Ornstein was half aware that there was quite a bit of blood on his armour, where Tempest had landed.

It was a good thing that the Undead could heal themselves easily like this. Still, this must have been hurt.

“What about the mimic?”, Ornstein asked, but his question was answered as he saw the mimic dissipating and leaving the item behind it had stored. He went to pick it up.

“A crystal shield.”, he said, tossing it to Tempest. “I think we surely are on to something.”

Tempest didn't react fast enough to catch the shield and dropped it. He quickly bent down to pick it up.

“So now what? Shall we search for books about crystals?”

“...I am more interested in the experiments Seath had planned. We should head back to the prison tower.”

“Ugh.”, Tempest didn't seem to be too keen about this. “I don't want to see this tentacle thingies again.”

“The what?”

“There were these strange creatures, like half snake, half squid? Disgusting.”

“Sounds like something Seath would do. Let's see if we can find the way back to the tower.”

The next hour was spent trying to find the way through the giant library, dealing with the various crystal hollows, a lot of them archers, and two more channelers on the way. They also managed to pick up another twinkling titanite and a crystal sorcery on the way. After a short while the both of them already had enough of this place.

“I swear, when I got one more arrow stuck into me, I'll scream.”, Tempest said after removing one of said errors and taking a sip of his estus, frowning as he saw how little of the orange liquid was left.

“At least you can heal yourself.”, Ornstein said.

“Yes, but you are wearing full body armour.”

“That doesn't mean that the arrows can't get stuck in the joints.”

“You are still more protected than me.”

“Why don't you just block the arrows with that shield of yours?”

“Oh yes, I would do that, when I could actually see where these things are coming from!”

Shrugging, Ornstein wandered farther: “Hm, just were was this balcony that led to the tower again... I knew that I completely missed it the first time...”

“Hey, there is a balcony, maybe it's there!”, Tempest pointed into a room with his sword and then promptly was struck with another arrow.

Ornstein winced as the small Undead cried out an ear piercing scream in his anger, rushing into the room. A few sounds of fireballs thrown at a crystal later Tempest returned.

“This room leads down, you said the balcony to the tower led up.”

Ornstein reached over wordlessly and pulled the arrow out of Tempest, who hissed in pain, sipping his estus. “Well, that was it with healing.”

“Just put this shield of yours to good use.”, Ornstein said, slightly annoyed. “Let's search for the right way.”

A few rotating stair cases and two dead channelers later, Ornstein finally walked past the balcony he had searched. “I swear, this door looks super inconspicuous.”, he murmured, scratching his lion helmet. “Let's go, little storm.”

Said little storm, looking more than battered up, followed Ornstein and said, with his hands thrown in the air: “By the gods, finally. Up there is a bonfire! I really need this right now!”

On the way up, a couple of more crystal hollows stood in their way which were quickly dispatched by Ornstein's spear. Then, they stood in front of the massive door.

Which had been brutally blasted open and sadly squeaked in its hinges. “Oh right.”, Ornstein scraped the ground with his foot.

“At least it saved me searching for the key.”, Tempest grinned.

A few dead snake soldiers later they sat in the cell Tempest apparently had been locked into where the small Undead eagerly filled up his estus flask at the bonfire.

“I saw them at Sen's Fortress.”, he said, pointing at the snake soldiers. “Why are they here too?”

“Seath's creations.”, Ornstein answered. “He simply gave a few of them out for Lord Gwyn to use and he decided to use them in Sen's Fortress. This place was usually a training ground for the silver knights. And to be honest, little storm, I have no clue how you survived this place.”

“I didn't survive it, I made it through it.”, Tempest said. “I died a dozen times or more in there. It was a bit better once I made it out in the open. Even though fire suddenly rained from the skies. And then... I ran into one of the Astora elite knights.”

“Hm? I am pretty sure Lord Gwyn never had any Astora elite knights in his army.”

“No no no, that's not what I meant, this was an Undead like me, but hollow. I think. He attacked right away with a bow. And when I got close enough he had this super fast rapier. I actually died to him. And even worse, I missed the bonfire up there the first time so I had to cross the fortress another time!”

“Yes, it is pretty hidden.”, Ornstein grinned under his helmet. The silver knights didn't had the ability came back. Anyone who couldn't run the gauntlet hadn't been cut out to be a silver knight.

Although, this place probably had become worse over the centuries.

“Well, I managed to find the bonfire the second time. Sometimes little notes appear on the ground and they helped me find it.”

“Ah yes, the orange soapstone. Someone of another time left a note for you to find.” Time in Lordran was convoluted and some special stones were able to exist through this convolution. As the little orange notes. Even Ornstein was able to lay them down, but without an army to lead there was no need to anymore.

“And then I went back to this guy. I died a few more times, but eventually I managed to overcome him and when I picked up his rapier, I recognized it. This was Ricard, the Undead Prince. It is said that he set out on his journey ages ago! Running into such a legend felt...special.”

“I don't have a clue who you are talking about. I don't give much about human heroes or legends.”

“Of course not, you are a legend yourself. Anyway, behind him there were a few chests, one contained a ring and one contained this.”

Tempest produced a bottle with a shining liquid. Ornstein recognized it at once.

“A divine blessing... They have become rare nowadays. Actually, when you fought us, Smough and I were running out of them. Only one left... I left it in his grave.”

“...Take it, Ornstein. I can heal up with my estus, but you can't. I am sure you can put it to good use.” Tempest practically shoved the item into Ornstein's hand.

Ornstein eyed it for a few seconds, before shoving it back. “No, you take it. I can take care of myself. When I see how fast your estus depletes, you are the better choice to hold onto it.”

Tempest stared from the divine blessing to Ornstein to the divine blessing again. “But...”, he started.

“You said you were following my orders.”, Ornstein threatened. Tempest winced and quickly stored the item back in his belongings.

“Now then, we have rested enough. We should move on.”, Ornstein stood up, using his spear for support.

Tempest followed him: “Hm, when I was the first time here, there was this spooky tune playing, but I couldn't hear anything this time.” He went to glance over the side of the landing they were one: “Probably a good thing, it made these tentacle thingies wild the last time.”

Ornstein followed Tempest to look down too: “I guess this machine down there made the sound. Well, it seems we can descend freely now that it is off.”

On their way down, Ornstein noticed the various cell doors: “Do you have a key to open them?”

“Yes.”, Tempest pulled a key out of his pocket. “But I don't think we would find anything there. I only see Crystal Hollows.” He poked one of them with his sword during the bars which promptly made the hollow groan and crash against the bars, making Tempest jump back. “Definitely prefer to not open them.”

“Hollowed out prisoners are indeed of no help.”, Ornstein said, glancing in every cell they came along their way down. Once they were at the bottom, Tempest pointed at an opening in the wall.

“There they are! The tentacle thingies!”, he exclaimed. “Ew, all of them are at one place.”

“...Let's just get this over with. I see a rather large cell behind them. Maybe we can find something in there.”, Ornstein readied his spears.

For a few minutes the sound of lighting and thrown fireballs were heard as the two worked themselves through the creatures. After they were done, Tempest sipped on his estus (he had been grabbed once) and then bend down to pick something up.

“Miracles.”, he said upon inspecting them.

“Let me see this.”, Ornstein came nearer to take a look and gasped. “Seath, that bastard... I always assumed that he had been the one to abduct Princess Gwynevere's maidens. This is proof!”

“What are you talking about?”, Tempest asked, confusion in his eyes.

“These miracles are granted by Lady Gwynevere herself. Bountiful Sunlight and Soothing Sunlight. Healing miracles that were often used by her or her maidens. But some of her maidens disappeared one day. We never could find them and now I know why, when they turned into this..”

Ornstein pointed at the burned and shocked mass of bodies in front of them. Tempest, however, didn't seem too listen. Instead, he had turned to the cell, shouting: “Logan?! You here?!”

Orstein turned around to listen in as a male voice answered: “Hello again. What a chance meeting this is!”

The voice belonged to an Undead sorcerer with a comical big hat. That wasn't his business. Probably someone Tempest had met on his travels through Lordran.

“Why is it that I always seem to find you behind bars?”, Tempest chuckled.

That Logan guy smiled sadly: “Alas, I am imprisoned once again. I don't suppose you could stage me a getaway? I surely hope it isn't our fate to always meet when I am behind bars.”

“Aw, come on, Logan, this place simply is dangerous. I myself needed help to get here.”, he pointed at Ornstein.

“Oh, are you having a new companion?”, Logan asked. Tempest had an awkward smile on his face.

“That is... kind of a long story. I am sure we can safe this for a later time.”

This Logan guy didn't seem to recognize him. Ah well, Ornstein was more a legend among the knights and not a legend among the sorcerers.

“So, my dear friend, do you have a key that could help me out? The Archives, such a storehouse of knowledge. So close, but just out of reach! The thought offends me so, I could simply die! As a student of the arts, you understand me, yes?”, Logan said.

“Hm, I have found a key, maybe it works here.”, Tempest presented the cell key and tried to get it into the lock. “It doesn't work.”, he noticed sadly. “Please don't die, Logan, I am sure we will find a way to get you out of here.”

“You Undead can't die anyway.”, Ornstein interfered and felt both gazes of the Undeads on him, shrinking a little, quickly changing the subject. “Hey, um, Logan was your name?”, he started. “You said that you wanted to research the archives? Have you seen anything interesting, like a book or notes, before you got caught?” It was a blind guess, but the best Ornstein had. The sorcerer surely hadn't been snatched away and dragged to the archives before he entered them.

“Hmmmm... yes, indeed. I have seen a place worth investigating, but before I could set a foot into there myself, I was found and captured. A library next to the large room, there was a hollow archer and a ladder led down to it.”

“Wait a moment! I have seen this place!”, Tempest exclaimed, both hands clutching his gargoyle helmet. “You remember the archer I took out because I was done with getting struck with arrows? That room matches the description.”

“Very well then, let's go there and see if we can find something.”, Ornstein turned around.

“If you find a key, would you be so kind to come back and stage my getaway?”, Logan asked. Tempest turned around and gave him an “Of course.” with a smile. Ornstein only hmphed.

“Maybe I should open up the cells now, the key could be there...”, Tempest muse.

“Why should a cell key be in another cell? That doesn't make any sense.”, Ornstein grumbled. “Let's just search this library out. We are on a mission. Should we find the key by chance, we can go and free him.”

Tempest nodded slowly: “Well, alright...” Next chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/187216779749/title-a-storm-is-coming-chapter-14-fandom-dark

#dark souls #fanfiction #dragon slayer ornstein #chosen undead #oc tempest #big hat logan #orndead #littlewritesstuff

4 notes · View notes

birthdaylobotomy · 6 years ago

Text

I took it and I Ran

WIP Currently still very much in progress. However, I wanted to share this!

CONTENT WARNING: Alcohol, drug use, violence, sexist/sexual language. In later parts there will be suicidal ideation, self harm, prostitution, sexual abuse, homophobia and racist language among other thing.

I do not share many of the ideologies my main character does. Remember- you are seeing this through the eyes of an angry kid in the early 90s. He says many things that are, in general, very bitter.

Link to Chapter One

CHAPTER TWO (Part One)

When I resurfaced to my dizzying reality, I was puking my brains out next to a barely lit bus stop. I could feel a firm but careful grip on my hair, holding it back. Someone handed me a water bottle, and without even looking up I swiped it, gulped it down like it was ambrosia. When I could finally assemble the strength to stand straight, I saw a familiar but unwanted face.

“How do you feel?” Brittany asked. Around her shoulders she wore a ratty blanket like a veil, or a cloak. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other as her buggy-eyed stare avoided mine.

“What?” I wiped my mouth and held my gut.

That’s when my eyes picked up the subtle movement of a hovering shadow. I twisted my whole body around to look- and there stood Luke, just as he had been. His giant jacket intact, his blonde hair still short and unbrushed, his eyes still blue. When our looks touched that smile of his returned, and he drew himself closer to me.

“Are you good?”

I held my breath and released slow. “I’m good.”

Brittney’s mildly aching voice cut into my ears. “You were, like, acting nuts dude.” With one of her hands still holding onto her blanket, she acted out an erotic little dance and hop. “I’ve never seen you dance like that before! You looked like some fucking stripper, or something.”

I didn’t respond to her. I didn’t even look at her. “Whatever. I’m fine, I wanna go home.”

I heard Britt hitch her words for a moment, before continuing. “Yeah, I think that would be for the best,” she said, scratching at her bleached and knotted hair. “Um, this guy,” she pointed towards Luke, who hadn’t stopped looking at me once, “He said he’ll take you home. I told him where, but now that you’re a little bit, uh, better, I think you’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” I said flatly. Brittney nodded, and for a moment she was stuck on a thought. Maybe she wanted to give me a real goodbye. But instead, with her lips pursed tight, she gave me a small wave goodbye before turning on her heel and swaying off into the dark, dark streets.

Alone, again. I heaved a few heavy breaths and looked at the cracked sidewalk. I could see Luke’s dirty sneaker tapping against the ground. Impatient? Maybe.

“God,” I groaned, trying to compose myself and failing. The world was still smearing and spinning to me, my cheeks still flushed and my mouth nasty with hacked up beer.

“Who’s she?” The way Luke asked was not invasive, or rude in any way. Instead, it was natural. Something a kid would ask when curious, if that makes any sense.

I tried to think of a smart way to answer. “She’s a friend, kinda.” I reconsidered after I noticed Luke’s raised thin eyebrow. “An ex, but we never really dated.”

“Oh.” There seemed to be muffled displeasure in that oh. I paid it no mind- I was too sick to even think straight. “She seemed pretty concerned.”

I tried to spy down the street- how far away could this damn bus be? “She’s a nice enough girl. Just a bit of a psycho bitch when you get too close.”

Another “Oh.” Neither of us said another world as a big blue bus slowly chugged it’s way to the spot. As the door slid open, and the obese bus driver glared down at us, a cough and final spit of bile escaped my throat, landing with a splat on the street. We both shuffled on, quiet as mice.

Luke payed the due with a few loose bills. I moseyed down the aisle and piled myself into a seat. In the process, the genius that I am managed to crack my skull against the window, leaving a giant bruise I probably still have. I grabbed my head and let out a string of the gnarliest curses I could think of. The little old woman in the seat two rows behind me opened her eyes so wide it was about ninety percent white.

I held my head as Luke eased himself next to me. “Jesus fuck! Why?!” I swear I foamed at the mouth.

I felt a hand, cold fingers, against the tender skin of the bruise. I had thrown my head into my palms and held it there like some giant bulbous melon. I sighed once, then twice. Why did I feel like bawling out of nowhere? It was just like Luke would later tell me- I had been sobbing the whole night. I could still feel the dryness and burning of my eyes. My nose was even a bit moist, and I kept sniffling and rubbing my nose on my bare wrists. My arms still naked, I was freezing too.

Luke felt like a guardian angel or something, the way his fingers guided and felt my bump, and how he carefully touched it to be sure no blood had sprung from it.

“You’re okay, Ryder.”

Hearing my own name was almost like some quiet revelation. I was Ryder, despite my sluggish and clumsy body, despite my twisted stomach and pounding head. All of me was Ryder, none of it was someone or something else. Just because I hadn’t been aware for however only God knows how long, doesn't mean I wasn’t me during that time. And whatever embarrassing or shitty stuff I had done was all me. I sat myself up straight as Luke and his boyish face watched.

“I’m alright.”

Lights passed over us, but not like how it had been in the bush. These lights were gentle, soft. The yellows and purples and whites of the nights flickered over us from the blurred street lights and shop signs. I could see the smears of many a men and women who were down on their luck, clothed only in clothes they had gotten from another, eating only food they gotten from another. To live reliant of the generosity of the bare streets built up such a fear in me, I had to turn my face away.

And when I looked from that window, I saw Luke. Luke, his glittering eyes that were searching so indefinitely within me. What was I? In that moment, what was it that he saw? In that second, however, all I was asking myself was why, why oh God why, had I stopped breathing?

His hand, which had been touching the tip of his chin, moved then, in a slow but unstoppable way. It went to my chin- no, my jaw. It was there for just a second, but when I think back to it, I always think of how his hand rested on my face. I knew what was going to happen next. I didn't stop it.

With the deliverance of a loving angel, Luke Evans blessed me with a kiss.

It was swift but it said to me what it wanted to say. His rough lips barely touched against mine. He pulled away and his hand dropped, he looked over his shoulder and then back at me.

When he looked back at me I saw nothing. Did he smile? Was he happy? All I can say is that he spoke, and he spoke with a plain but friendly tone.

“I think this stop is ours.”

#since this is so short ill just leave it all out like this!#long post #wip #my wip #work in progress #oc #original content #original character #original characters #um #i took it and i ran #lgbt characters #ok #idk #txt #spilled thoughts #spilled ink #i dont like this as much #but who cares

13 notes · View notes

bronzeflower · 7 years ago

Text

Who The Fuck Writes A Ten-Page Rant?????

Chapter 13: Roxy is Visiting!!!!

Also on ao3 and part of @wipweek for my favorite wip!

“How’s my favorite little brother doing?” Roxy put you into what was basically a wrestling move with how aggressive it was, but you were pretty sure it was meant to be a hug, so you tried to hug her back.

“Good.” You managed to squeak out. You really couldn't breathe that well with Roxy squeezing you like that.

After a few more seconds of Roxy hugging you, she finally stopped, and, therefore, you could finally breathe.

“How have you been doing?” You asked. “Hack into anything you shouldn’t have yet?”

“I’ve been doing great! And I’ve only hacked into something I shouldn’t have a few times.”

“Define a few times.”

“Like, at least a hundred.” Roxy frowned. “But that doesn’t matter because I’m here, and we’re going to have some fun. Where’s Rose?”

“I think she’s on a date right now.”

“What! Rose has a date? Who is she?” Roxy asked. “How many dates have they been on? Have they kissed yet? Are they in love? When am I going to be invited to the wedding? Dave, you need to tell me everything.”

“Woah there, Roxy. You might want to chill it a bit with the questions. I can’t keep track of them all. And you might want to ask Rose those questions once she comes back from her date. She should know that you’re here anyway.” You looked at Roxy somewhat suspiciously. “You did remember to tell Rose you were coming here, right? You didn’t just tell me and trust that I would tell Rose?”

“Well, uh, I may have… forgotten.” Roxy looked sheepish for a moment before bouncing back. “But, it’s whatev’s because I’m here now, and I’m staying with you, so it’s not like room and board is an issue or anything.”

“Rose is going to be so mad about not being able to get a gift for you when you arrived.”

“She doesn’t have to get me a gift every single time I visit. I’m her sister! And I try to make a habit of visiting as often as my job will allow.”

“How is your job going by the way? I trust it’s going as smooth as chocolate fondue that’s going to be spread on some cake or some shit?”

“My job is going super! But, now I’m hungry. We should go out to eat and catch up and stuff.” Roxy suggested. “Then I can tell you all about the shit I’ve been building. Oh, yeah, and I can tell you about my new coworker who's absolutely shredded. Like, woah. I don’t know what he did previously for a living, but he is completely jacked, bro.”

“Like, he can probably bench press you jacked or he can probably bench press a car jacked?”

“I’m pretty sure he could bench press a building if it was detached from the ground,” Roxy answered.

“Oh shit. That’s pretty fucking jacked. Do you think he could pick up a skyscraper? Or the moon? Imagine picking up the moon. That would be absolutely insane.”

“Dave, my brother.” Roxy put a hand on your shoulder and put her other hand into a loose fist. “I will make that happen. I will make it so my coworker can lift the moon. I will break the laws of physics to do it.”

“I have no doubt you’ll be able to do it. Haven’t you already figured out how to basically bend space-time to go faster than the speed of light?”

“Something like that. It’s still a prototype though, so it’s not actually safe to use quite yet. But, when it is functional and safe, you’ll be the first to know!”

“Will I be able to go to Mars in it?”

“Probably not. But, you could if you got the training of an astronaut, but I really wouldn’t recommend going through with that unless you really, really want to go to space because it’s super hard to become an astronaut.”

“Yeah, I’ll just keep making GrubTube videos.” You said. “Also, we should probably actually get going if we want to get to dinner unless you want to stay in here and make instant ramen.”

“Please eat actual food, Dave.”

“I’m just joking with you.” You laughed somewhat. “I actually do make enough money from GrubTube to afford things that aren’t instant ramen. I actually have a few vegetables in my fridge.”

“Do you eat those vegetables?”

“Do you?”

Roxy squinted at you suspiciously before laughing.

“Of course I do, you doofus! My wife makes me.”

“Because you’re clearly not responsible enough to eat them yourself. Didn’t Callie try to become a ‘meatatarian’ at some point, though?”

“Yeah…” Roxy scratched the back of her head. “But that’s probably why she’s so adamant about people eating their vegetables nowadays. She knows why they’re important.”

“Nothing like scurvy to remind someone that eating their vegetables is important.” You then pointed towards the door. “Also, speaking of vegetables, we’ve just kind of stood here talking without actually making any sort of progress in terms of moving out the door to get food in our bodies, so we should maybe, probably ollie outie out of here.”

“Oh, yeah, right.”

The two of you manage to leave and go to a noodle place nearby. Because, clearly, that’s the best place to go to right after discussing how important vegetables are to one’s diet. Then again, the noodle place did have a shit ton of vegetarian options, so you were probably fine in the vegetable department.

“Wait, isn’t vitamin C the thing that causes you to have scurvy? Not vegetables?” Roxy questioned.

“Shit. I think you might be right. Call Callie right away. She needs to know so that she can cut down on as many vegetables as she wants.”

“She does need to eat vegetables though.” Roxy insisted. “I lied when she said she’s very adamant about people eating their veggies. She still politely complains every time I put some greens on her plate. Callie always eats them though, the sweetie.”

“How do you politely complain about something?”

“You eat everything except the vegetables on your plate, and then you grimace slightly before eating your vegetables.”

“I don’t think that counts as actually complaining.” You waved your arm around. “I think you might actually have to, I don’t know, say or, like, sign something in order for it to be considered actual complaining. Which reminds me, did Calliope ever manage to get a sign language class?”

“Oh, yeah! She did! You should have seen her face when she got to teach sign language. She was so happy. She babbled on for ages about how excited she was to see how happy other kids would be to finally be able to talk to other kids normally through their preferred form of communication.” Roxy had a dopey smile on her face. “She was so cute.”

“That’s awesome! I’m glad she was finally able to accomplish that. She’s been wanting to start up that class for years now, right?”

“Yeah. It took her a long time to do because the school board thought that there wouldn't be enough interest from the students, so she had to do this huge petition of students who said they would want to learn sign language from her.”

“Really? The school board really thought that no one would be interested in learning sign language?”

“I know, right?” Roxy said. “It's just, obsolute, I mean actulute, fuck, absolutely, absolutely absurd.”

“I can't see why you WOULDN'T want to learn sign language. It's like a secret language except it's not really a secret language. You can communicate with other people without sound! How awesome is that? I think that's super awesome and kick-ass, and I could honestly write, like, a fucking book on how awesome it is.”

“Going to follow in Rosey’s footsteps? Going to write the next great novel that's going to be read for generations to come?”

“Nah. That's not really my thing.” You shrugged. “That being said, I do actually have dreams and aspirations that are completely unrelated to my GrubTube channel, and, hence, my source of cash.”

“I hope you achieve your dreams at some point in the future. You mind me asking about them?”

“I mean, sure it's not like they're some kind of deeply kept secret or anything. I want to be a museum curator someday. No idea exactly how to go about doing that, but I've got some sort of vague idea how it's gonna go down.”

“Well, I spose you’re gonna need some dank ass artifacts.”

“Hella dank artifacts.” You agreed. “Just, like, an entire section on bones, and another on weird ass pottery, and yet another on how gay some dudes were. Maybe I can convince other museums to give me their weird shit. You know, all the stuff they keep in the back because it’d be too embarrassing to explain. Well, fuck that shit, I’m gonna be showing tatas left and right, and look at that! There’s a dick corner all the way over there, and a vagina area right next to it. In addition, here’s a couple of statues fucking because no one else wants to showcase them to the public because it’s too ‘obscene.’”

“Hell yeah. Stick it to those old farts who refuse to show off the old farts.” Roxy laughed, and you laughed with her.

“We’re going to have the oldest farts in the business! Everybody will get to see the old farts.”

“How’re you even going to get ancient farts? Are you going to find them in the depths of the Earth and then quickly find a jar to put the smell in the moment you get a whiff of those disgusting old farts?”

“Truly the best way to capture a fart is a mystery to most,” You decided to put on your best stereotypically pretentious voice. “But I have no doubt my team of explorers will find a way to do it.”

“Who does your team consist of? Who are these archaeologists that don't get nearly enough recognition by society?” Roxy responded in the most reporter-esque style she could muster.

“Well, first and foremost, I have my most kick-ass leader of this group, the one and only Aradia Megido, and she is, of course, accompanied by famous book writer, Rose Lalonde, who archives the findings.”

“Speaking of Rosey, should we have brought her to dinner with us?”

“I mean, we’re already basically done at this point so it's not like we could invite her. We can get her to come with us next time we go out.”

“We should also probably tell her that you're actually here. How do you want to go about doing that? Are. You gonna tell her over pesterchum or text message or something, or are you just gonna show up to her place and be like 'what’s up, I'm here.’”

“Uh,” Roxy thought for a moment. “I'm just gonna message her. So that I don't have to deal with questioning face to face.”

“That does seem to be the most logical course of action. You might want to do that asap, though. I would tell you to have done that before you even began coming over here, but you can’t exactly go back in time to do that. And, even if you could, you already would have done it because you would have gone back in time to tell yourself to message Rose. And, there’s also the issue with, like, paradoxes and alternate timelines, so there’s def the full possibility that you could have done that, but then when you come back to your timeline, the timeline where you told yourself to message Rose could be a different timeline from the one you’re in, so it wouldn’t have been worth it to even go back in time in the first place.”

“Oh, yeah, no time paradoxes here. None whatsoever. I’m just gonna travel into the future at one second per second like everybody else. Though, tbh, I wouldn’t really want time travel as a superpower. Seems too complicated. I’d much rather, like, appearify stuff from thin air, you know?”

“Oh, hell yeah that would be sick as shit. Personally, I would much rather do some timey shit. Like, yeah, it would be, like, super complicated, but whatever. I guess I would just have to take that risk. Figure out all those alt timelines or whatever. And you do your voidy shit.”

“We’d make a hella team.”

“We’d make an absolutely bitchin team, Rox. I could just do timey shit, and you could do your voidy shit. Honestly, I don’t really know how well that would go, but, like, theoretically, you could go into the void or some shit where my powers don’t reach, which would allow shit I don’t want to do timey stuff on to stay stationary in terms of time while everything else gets a time makeover.”

“Speaking of time, I think it’s time for us to go,” Roxy said, pointing a thumb towards the exit of the restaurant. “We’ve kinda been chatting for too long, and I think the people working here are getting annoyed by the fact that we’re taken up a table.”

“Oh, shit, you’re right. We should probably leave. Can’t be stealing and hogging this table all to ourselves. There are people who need to be fed, and we’ve already been fed.”

You both left the restaurant found yourselves right back at your place. You feel like you two could have gone somewhere else, but nope. You and Roxy plopped down on the couch in your room.

“You know, Davey, I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen your GrubTube channel. Care to show me a few of your vids?”

“Are you just procrastinating telling Rose that you arrived in town?”

“Maaaybe.”

“Goddamn it, Roxy. Just pester her already.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll allow myself to be vulnerable to her wrath. She will be the reason for my untimely doom. It will be an eternity before she forgives me for my slight against her. Me! A lowly peasant in her kingdom of prose, unable to escape the confines of vice. Even though I kinda did. I’ve been sober for five years, and I’m, like, hella proud of myself for that, but we’re working within the box of the metaphor, and I’m tryin to be as dramatic as possible.”

"Lamenting about your supposed doom won't do anything to stop it from coming," You mention. "Also, I'm hella proud of you too for being sober for five years. That's a huge fucking achievement, and you deserve recognition for that. You should get, like, a fucking medal or some shit."

"I know, right? Five fucking years! I should at least get a certificate."

"Maybe I could forge one. Just be like, 'This certificate is proof that Roxy Lalonde has been sober for five fucking years.' That's exactly what it will say, curse words and all because I don't know how to make a sentence without adding a curse word in the middle of it. This is exactly why I should never have kids. Can you even imagine? Little five-year-olds going off into kindergarten and getting in a shit ton of trouble because they said 'Fuck you' to little Suzy. But it'll be for a good reason, like little Suzy was pulling on some other kid's pigtails, and my kid jumped in like a fucking hero, but they're gonna be swearing up a storm while they do it." You push up your shades because they started falling off your face with the amount of moving around and gesturing you just did in that long hypothetical situation. "Anyway, you should message Rose. I'll even cheer you on as you do it."

"Ugh! Fine!" Roxy got out her phone and started typing up a storm. You're pretty sure you've never met anyone who can type or text faster than Roxy. It was actually pretty fucking impressive. It also probably had something to do with the fact that she was a programmer and hacker.

"How's Rose taking it?" You ask, wondering exactly how long it will take for Roxy to properly deal with the damage that came with informing Rose that she's in town only after actually arriving in town.

"About as well as expected. This might take a while." Roxy winced as if Rose was yelling at her in person. "A long while."

"I'll find someone to talk to then." You went over to your computer and spun a mental wheel as to who you should talk to.

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --

TG: john TG: bro TG: were you informed of the fact that the one the only roxy lalonde is in town TG: she has decided to grace us with her presence TG: and we should be eternally grateful TG: also did you know that shes been sober for five years TG: fucking TG: five whole years TG: thats amazing TG: john TG: john TG: i know your online it hasnt given me that goddamn popup yet TG: john TG: johnathan TG: johnny TG: john TG: johnathan edison egbert TG: jk i know you have more than one middle name TG: edisons the only one i remember tho TG: john TG: john TG: who are you talking to right now TG: you could just tell me who youre talking too TG: or did you like TG: leave the computer and forget to say you were offline TG: that would be a dumb as shit thing to do TG: especially since the new update literally does it for you if youre gone for long enough TG: which means you couldnt have been gone for long TG: john

EB: and my full name is john edison sam sebastian october egbert. EB: just so you know!

TG: what really TG: one of your middle names is october

EB: no, i was pulling your leg on that one. EB: it's actually ian.

TG: so john edison sam sebastian ian egbert TG: thats a mouthful TG: and the initials spell out another name

EB: i could go by jessie in secret. EB: and it will just my full name's initials. EB: and it technically wouldn't be a lie if i said it was my name.

TG: in what possible context would you use a fake name and need to sound convincing enough to say it was your real name

EB: you never know what kind of situations you could be in! EB: also it makes for a great joke in my comedy sketches.

TG: what are you just going around making a joke about how your name spells another name

EB: pretty much!

TG: well shit TG: also when is your new special gonna come out on netflix TG: i been watching out for it but im still just human TG: subject to the desires of the shows netflix decides to have

EB: i think it should come out in about a month or two. EB: although it's probably closer to two if netflix isn't showing the release date for it.

TG: damnit TG: and here i was looking forward to sitting on a couch with roxy and laughing at your jokes

EB: oh! EB: is roxy in town?

TG: yeah pretty sure i mentioned that at the start of this convo

EB: i don't exactly always read your walls of text, dave.

TG: wow john im so hurt TG: not really TG: its understandable TG: anyway rox is telling rose that shes actually in town TG: which she neglected to do beforehand

EB: oh no!

TG: oh yes TG: apparently rose is pissed TG: probably because she wasnt able to go all out in welcoming roxy to town TG: but then again thats kinda what roxy wants to avoid TG: shes pretty lowkey you know

EB: yeah. EB: that sounds more like something they need to talk about though!

TG: fuck yeah they do TG: theyve got different boundaries TG: rox prefers smaller gestures TG: and rose likes to be loud and proud about shit TG: both are fine but they tend to clash because of it

EB: yeah :/ EB: should we intervene somehow? EB: make sure they've got plenty of time to talk it out? EB: maybe over tea or whatever. EB: i know rose has been dying to do some sort of tea party.

TG: fuck yeah TG: that sounds like a great idea TG: actually i should encourage rose to put into action the tea party TG: knowing her shes been lamenting about it for fucking ever TG: and isnt actually going to do it until shes pushed to TG: even though she really wants to

EB: she's gotten better at that sort of thing though! EB: like that girl she's dating! EB: what was her name?

TG: oh yeah kanaya TG: shes chill

EB: yeah! EB: rose managed to ask her out, right?

TG: yep pretty sure it was rose who did the asking out

EB: that means she's probably getting better at getting what she wants to get. EB: so that means she's that much closer to throwing a fancy party where we all have to wear suits.

TG: that might be the reason why she was so adamant about me getting a suit TG: cant be going to a fancy as fuck party in a tshirt and skinny jeans like some kind of jackass

EB: isn't that your entire aesthetic?

TG: no TG: maybe TG: just a little bit TG: but i gotta be a jackass in style john TG: i cant be a jackass at a party in a tshirt and jeans TG: i gotta be the jackass in the obnoxious red suit that you can see from a mile away TG: and also wearing those douchebag shades because thats just part of the strider style

EB: sounds like youve got this entire thing figured out. EB: but we cant forget to actually get roxy and rose to talk to each other!

TG: right of course that is the number one mission TG: unless they're already talking about it TG: roxy seems to be going at her phone keyboard like she has a personal vendetta against it TG: then we can all just have a good time at the party in roses fucking mansion that she doesnt need TG: why does she even have a mansion TG: why is it only twenty minutes away from my modest place TG: why does she keep it meticulously cleaned TG: actually i dont know that last part

EB: i don't think i've actually ever been to rose's place! EB: i've only seen it when picking her up for something.

TG: maybe she has something that is secret in there TG: like the gods of the void

EB: or maybe she just bought a mansion as some sort of passive-aggressive statement.

TG: yeah that sounds like her TG: she probably houses a bunch of homeless people there to spit the government and the rich people in the neighborhood TG: im surprised her lawn isnt a mess to protest the idea that dandelions are weeds

EB: we could always ask her what she does with her mansion!

TG: one of us should make a mental note to ask her about that TG: or at the very least investigate when she inevitably throws a fancy ass party there

EB: do you think she would buy all the people living there fancy suits and dresses

TG: i have no doubt of it

EB: well, this was a great conversation, but i have to go soon! EB: i've got new comedy sketches to write, and i have no idea what i'm doing, so it's going to take a while.

TG: completely understandable TG: have fun writing all that

EB: we should talk again soon! EB: i'll even tell you all about my secret comedy sketches!

TG: holy shit an egbert original TG: hasnt even seen the light of day original TG: it will be my lucky day when that happens

EB: well, see ya, dave!

TG: bye bye john

-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

"Hey! Roxy! Have you gotten anywhere in your conversation with Rose?"

"Uh, no, sorry, Dave. Me and Rosey are having a long discussion about boundaries, which we probably should have had, like, a really long time ago. Who were you talking to?"

"John. He needed to leave to work on his comedy sketches though. I might message Jade next if you're still busy."

"Yep. Still hella busy."

"That's all good. Take your time. You are a guest here."

"Thanks, Davey."

"No problemo." You returned back to your computer.

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] --

TG: yo jade TG: whats up

GG: the usual GG: weve been getting some progress in building the car ai though! GG: i swear ive talked to so many rubber ducks GG: so many GG: i feel like we need a rubber duck the size of a building GG: everything goes wrong GG: but now less is going wrong so thats good!!!

TG: thats so fucking awesome TG: im afraid i dont know about the rubber ducks though

GG: theyre basically a sounding board GG: you know GG: something goes wrong in the code so you talk to the duck until you realize whats wrong with the code

TG: that makes perfect sense but why a rubber duck

GG: no idea GG: might have something to do with the fact that they are common and fairly easy to manufacture GG: but theoretically one could do it with another person or a stuffed animal or whatever GG: although a person might not be the best for it

TG: why not

GG: some of us have a tendency to throw the rubber duck really hard when we are particularly frustrated by the code GG: or mad that we didnt realize the mistake in the code because it was so goddamn obvious

TG: yeah i guess you would want to avoid throwing people at the wall unless they were a complete and utter douche

GG: oh no you dont throw those people GG: you just punch them GG: its faster GG: i would say shoot them but murder is illegal

TG: also the entire thing with guns

GG: yeah GG: i love guns but at the same time GG: there should definitely be restrictions on them! GG: there is a reason why babies should not duel wield flintlock pistols!!!!!!!!!!

TG: yeah no TG: dont give infants flintlock pistols TG: or any guns for that matter TG: your grandpa was kind of crazy

GG: :/ GG: he was GG: also he doesnt believe in gun control

TG: yikes

GG: pretty much GG: so, what about you? GG: hows your life going?

TG: roxy has come over but shes currently telling rose that shes in town TG: you know TG: after not informing her that she was going to be in town previously

GG: oh no!!!

TG: yeah thats what john said too

GG: no one really wants to face roses wrath GG: shes very scary when shes angry!!! GG: :(

TG: mood TG: yeah nobody wants to be within twenty feet of rose when shes pissed TG: but i think roxy has passed the angry part and has reached the part where they are having a conversation about boundaries

GG: thats good!!! GG: is there anything else thats going on?

TG: no really TG: kind of just been sitting inside and doing grubtube videos TG: the usual TG: you know TG: i feel like i need to do something more exciting for my videos TG: at least to celebrate hitting like a shit ton of subscribers

GG: you could have a guest star or something like that

TG: you mean just like ask one of my friends if theyd like to join a video

GG: yeah!!! GG: you just have to find someone whod be comfortable with it

TG: would you be

GG: no not really GG: im a little paranoid about having my face on the internet GG: my instagram doesnt even show my face at all and i keep it private!!

TG: i see your point TG: its completely understandable TG: i will be sure to ask someone else TG: like roxy or john TG: john or karkat actually would be a good choice TG: like karkat wrote the rant that made my channel super popular TG: it was already popular but the rant made it extra popular TG: so a kind of interview with him would be cool TG: and netflix is apparently gonna release johns new thing soon TG: so it could be kind of a promotion thing for both him and me TG: john would probably be chill with it TG: karkat on the other hand TG: probably not TG: he seems like the kind of guy who would try to hide his face anytime someone took a photo of him

GG: hes actually pretty photogenic!!!

TG: what really

GG: yeah! GG: he might actually accept to be in a grubtube video GG: but depending on the content he might not GG: but like GG: based on his distaste for your channel GG: i would at least wait until the two of you have a better relationship with each other

TG: point taken TG: john it is TG: might as well ask roxy just because shes currently in my house TG: just do an impromptu collab video TG: actually im probably gonna ask her about it right now TG: granted that shes done with her conversation with rose TG: she probably is because ive had two super long conversations with people

GG: good luck with the celebrating your subscriber count!!!

TG: good luck with your ai programs TG: pester you later

GG: bye!!! GG: :)

-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] --

"Hey, Roxy! How's that conversation with Rose going? I'm not, like, expecting you to be completely done or anything, but I am wondering about how far you are into that conversation about boundaries and shit."

"Oh, yeah, we finished that convo ages ago. We started talking about the motifs in the newest book of our fav wizarding series."

"So, everything's good?"

"It's all good."

#homestuck #wip week #davekat #dave strider #jade harley #roxy lalonde #john egbert #hs

11 notes · View notes

jngukie · 7 years ago

Text

WIP Tag

i was tagged by @floofyeol! idk if this is a blessing or a curse let’s find out.

some of these fics have been in drafts for ages? so tbh i don’t even know if i will post them but hey we’ll see. (so assume for now that none of these will be posted—except when stated otherwise with an *)

the first couple will be ships. the later ones are reader-inserts. all are still protected by the Creative Commons license.

slide it up in here: chapter 10* pairing(s): jikook, namjin, yoonseok genre: humour, crack, drama, angst tags/warnings: texting, college au, slightly filthy, innuendoes, Awkward Jeon Jungkook™, slowburn, self-esteem issues, self-hatred, implied/referenced homophobia, everyone is a mess™

SUMMARY

gguki: [image attached] gguki: what should i do with it chimothy: um chimothy: dude idk if i’m entitled to give you suggestions but chimothy: i mean you could always just stick it in the ass???????

or jungkook accidentally sends a stranger a picture of his roommate’s brand new dildo

PREVIEW

the (9)7 wonders of the world

tol: ok here’s the plan dabs 24/7: yugyeom no offence but your plans kinda suck muscle pig: ^^ what bambam said muscle pig: i don’t trust you anymore tol: wow that hurt tol: but i promise you this one will be better dabs 24/7: don’t do it kook tol: it won’t backfire in any way

untilted vhope pairing(s): vhope, namjin genre: humour, fluff tags/warnings: college au, skype dates, profanity, neurobiology/pyschology major!namjoon, ra!jin, music major!yoongi (i think), some major!hoseok, and high schooler!tae, tbh idrk bc i haven’t finished writing it lmao

SUMMARY

When Jung Hoseok signed up for college, he didn’t think he’d end up on academic probation so soon. Hell, he’d never guess he’d have friends who would use him as a fucking lab rat for their atrocious experiments. He definitely did not expect to fall in love with his resident advisor’s little brother—and then proceed to sneak into said resident advisor’s room and hack his computer just to have one more Skype date with the little brother. Without getting caught by said resident advisor. Yeah—he’s a little stressed, to say the least.

→ a continuation of It’s Burning Up in Here.

PREVIEW

He didn’t sign up for this. He thought college would be a great idea—who would pass up the opportunity for ultimate freedom and youthful stupidity? No, he was ecstatic for college—but he definitely hadn’t signed up to be the fucking victim for his resident advisor’s boyfriend’s experiments.

“Hoseok-ssi, please stay still or otherwise this will hurt. A lot,” Namjoon begged as his friend Yoongi tried to hold him down on the fragile coffee table.

“That’s not what your needle’s saying! You said it was a harmless experiment! You said I’d be fine!”

“You will be! I just need practice drawing blood once—”

“You’ve never even done this before?” Hoseok shrieked, writhing some more. Yoongi growled in frustration and flung his entire weight onto Hoseok’s body—and thus effectively snapping the legs of the coffee table and sending them down towards the floor.

His advisor ran into the room then, eyes wide in alarm while holding a skillet filled with half-cooked meat, his creased white apron reading World’s Best Dad! in pretty cursive pink. “What the hell is going on here?”

untitled taekook* pairing(s): taekook, yoonjin genre: fluff, angst, humour, crack tags/warnings: restaurant au, running away, mentions of nudity, exhibitionism, does getting caught dancing naked in your room count as exhibitionism idek, mention of mpreg, but there’s no actual mpreg, i mean it’s the sims it’s not real, many many references to the male organ, but sorry folks no smut (A/N: this is literally what i have in my docs wow i’m such a nerd for preparing ao3 tags LMAO)

SUMMARY

The last thing Jungkook expected after running away to Seoul is to score a private live viewing of Naked_Neighbour_Dancing_In_His_Bedroom.mov—and then proceed to bump into him when he’s not-so-naked. And then also manage to greet him with a slap. It also probably doesn’t help that Nude Neighbour is his new boss. All in all, Jungkook just maybe kinda wants to die. (But of course Seokjin isn’t gonna allow him, so he’s just going to suffer—for now.)

PREVIEW

He sighs, turning his head to gaze out of the window, only to freeze when he realises his view isn’t exactly the most… decent.

Because across from his small studio apartment window is a perfect view of a larger apartment in the building across, and currently, the tenant (he hopes the boy’s the tenant) is enthusiastically dancing through his room completely naked, dinglehopper fully on display. He’s mouthing the words to some song, throwing a finger up in the air as he shuts his eyes and nods his head as though the music (Jungkook thinks there’s music) blasting in his room is speaking to him on a spiritual level.

Jungkook’s face is bright red when he finally breaks out of his trance, and he wishes he wasn’t so bad at reacting appropriately to inappropriate situations so he could at least have saved himself from adding a thirty-second clip of Nude Neighbour to his collection of non-digital memories. He rushes to the window and pulls the curtains close, fingers stiff as he tries to rid his brain of such scandalous images.

At least he was hot.

His face is redder now—if that’s even possible. “Fuck me,” he whispers, and then flushes even more. “Wait, no. Don’t fuck me. That’s not what—why am I even talking to myself. Agh.”

take these words out of my lungs (and set them free) pairing(s): vmin genre: angst, fluff tags/warnings: major character death, suicide attempt, depression, body image issues, depressed!jimin, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, ambiguous original character that appears for like five seconds, high school au

SUMMARY/PREVIEW

three pounds. that’s how much he’s gained since he last stepped on the scale, the dictator that rules over his life. he stares at the numbers again, frowning at the digits glaring up at him. perhaps there was a mistake; maybe the scale is rigged or jammed or simply broken. he couldn’t have possibly gained three pounds in a span of two days. hasn’t he been walking around his neighbourhood enough?

he sighs, stepping off the scale and turning around to flush the toilet before washing his hands. even the cold water burns his skin, and he wishes he could melt through the cracks on the floor. would he slim down then? would he finally be skinny enough?

“jimin!” he hears his mother call, and he forces his way from the sink, sneaking out his parent’s bathroom and into the living room outside. their apartment is small but cozy. jimin hates it.

untitled kim seokjin* pairing(s): platonic OT7 genre: fluff, angst tags/warnings: anxiety, depression, eating disorder, negative body image perception, lapslock (lower case)

SUMMARY

honestly, he can’t remember what it’s like to live anymore.

PREVIEW

breathe in. breathe out.

three lucky charms. four cereal pieces. seven bits down the drain.

he smiles, staring at the milk-stained sink as the spoon clatters against metal, bowl turned upside down. it’s ugly—white ink staining burnt grey like liquid cobwebs feeding on rust. it looks exactly as how he feels: dirty, wasted, trash. one-seventy-nine centimetres down the drain.

untitled kim taehyung pairing(s): Kim Taehyung/Reader genre: fluff, humour, probably angst bc knowing me tags/warnings: (sor far) nudity, profanity

SUMMARY/PREVIEW

Kim Taehyung has no regrets. Sure, he probably should’ve thought twice before he spent all of his money on BIGBANG merch just to show Jungkook that yes, he’s the bigger fanboy, and sure, he definitely should’ve listened to Jimin when he warned Taehyung that no, he shouldn’t eat three whole pizza pies by himself, but that doesn’t mean he regrets any of his decisions. Even though blowing all his earnings on people he’ll never meet did cause him to starve for a good or so month.

(Thank god for ramyeon.)

So, no, Jimin, he doesn’t regret running out of the shower butt naked when he heard her singing on her way to the second floor of their co-ed dorm, doesn’t regret shouting, “I love your voice!” before she screamed, “Oh my god, you’re naked!” And he definitely doesn’t regret yelling, “Oh, shit!” into Oblivion before sprinting back into the bathroom to resume the hot shower he abandoned.

“For fuck’s sake, Taehyung,” Jimin says to him once Taehyung’s finished recounting the story, the two of them lying side by side on Jimin’s bed. “You’re going to get us kicked out.”

“I should probably say hi,” Taehyung muses, blinking at the ceiling. “Do you think she remembers me?”

Jimin glances down, and snickers. “With how small your dick is, she probably does.”

untitled park jimin pairing(s): Park Jimin/Reader genre: fluff tags/warnings: (so far) blind!reader

SUMMARY

He is an angel; and she doesn’t need to see to believe. She fathoms his widespread wings as he gently picks her up, worriedly and urgently asking for her health, voice so soft it touches her skin like silk on smooth glass. His eyes must be crinkled in the corners, a smile stuttering through apologies, heart too warm for the human hand to touch. She imagines what he looks like, faintly deciding through his rapid Korean that he must be chesnut if not vanilla, not in skin but in connotation because he sounds and smells and feels like home.

Her pause is a millennia long, and she hears him repeat himself again, the sound of melting marshmallow oozing out of beautiful lips: “Are you alright?”

She produces a smile, feathery and light, eyes glassy and the world continues to remain black. “I’m fine,” she replies, and her voice is cracked from its lack of use; she hasn’t met anyone worth talking to in what feels like a century. Another smile reappears, much strained than what she’s used to, and she picks herself up from where the concrete lay, the dust falling from her voile skirt. “No damage done.”

untitled kim taehyung #2* pairing(s): Kim Taehyung/Reader, platonic OT7 genre: fluff, angst tags/warnings: i think it’s schizophrenia?, mental illnesses, depression

SUMMARY/PREVIEW

There is a moment when time stands still. It’s fleeting, escaping the moment your fingers curl around it and pull. But it is during this moment happiness enraptures you with its warm hug as your heart thunders against your chest—the steady thump, thump, thump of a snare drum awakening. It is during this moment pain ceases to exist.

But after, everything will come rushing back.

i have more but these are the ones that are decent, at the very least.

to pass the torch on, i’ll tag @minmelly @kinky-koreans @pasteljeonggukk @haneulismykoreanname @rnjmnster and anyone else who wants to do it! (if you don’t, no pressure. good luck to you and your writing!)

#tags #i actually have like 10 more wips #i didn't know i had this many #will i actually write any of these #hopefully at some point

5 notes · View notes

sapphicscholar · 3 years ago

Text

Fanfic Writer Question Meme

Having just submitted 45 dissertation pages, I decided today is the day to do this fun little fanfic writer thing I’ve seen floating around on my dash lately!

1) How many works do you have on AO3? 89

2) What’s your total AO3 word count? 2,031,148 ... jfc. I aspire to be this prolific in my academic life.

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? Only 5 shows, though a variety of ships in one of them! Supergirl, Grace and Frankie, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, Wynonna Earp, and This Way Up (I’ve got some draft-y stuff for a Hacks fic but dissertation stuff sent it to the back burner)

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos? -Stronger Together (Supergirl, 1-shot compilation with a variety of ships) -Welcome to the Gayborhood, Danvers (Supergirl, Sanvers academia AU, my first ever fic, too!) -6,500 miles away...but getting closer (Supergirl, Sanvers long distance epistolary fic that I co-authored with my wife; we actually ended up, unexpectedly, writing a big chunk of it while we did long distance for the first--and hopefully only--time) -Noise Complaint (Supergirl, Sanvers neighbor AU that’s mostly canon compliant) -Supercat Sanvers 2020 (Supergirl, Supercat and Sanvers political AU)

5) Do you respond to comments, and why or why not? I try to because I really do love and appreciate them SO MUCH! But I often binge write during my breaks from the academic year and post when the semester is at its busiest, and then I do the thing of going “oh no! it’s been 2 weeks and now I feel weird, I shall let it go another 4 months until I feel much too awkward to ever reply!) But I’ve been trying!

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Forgotten, But Not Gone! Thanks to fan demand I turned it into a 2-part series, but that first fic ends on a note that is, at best, a kind of gesture at some sort of future but with no guarantees (which is the kind of ending my wife likes best of all haha)

7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? Hmmm I often don’t love super sweet endings, but one of the few where I’ve given an epilogue that’s pretty straightforwardly sweet and happy is Her Knight in Tiny Spandex

8) Do you write crossovers? Not really where the characters from one universe mix with another, though I’ve done some, like, Buffy AU type fics, and I had a series where Supergirl characters were active participants in other shows’ fandoms

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic? Holy shit so much hahah! I took a break from fandom for a while after the worst of it, and even though there are some really lovely people still in that particular ship’s fandom, my level of involvement and investment dropped considerably. I’ve been much more...cautious since then about feeling out fandoms before really jumping in

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind? Yep, plenty! I’ve only ever written for femslash ships and poly arrangements, though

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? Uh yeah once or twice several years ago, but I think I was able to report it and show proof of my posting it on AO3 many, many months before it showed up on Wattpad or something

12) Have you ever had a fic translated? No, I got a request once, but it was for a longgggg fic and I don’t think it ever appeared (totally understandable, it would’ve been a huge endeavor!)

13) Have you ever co-written a fic? Yup! A couple with my wife, plus one with a group of Supercat writers where we rotated and did a sentence at a time

14) What’s your all time favorite ship? I genuinely don’t think I can pick! I rotate through my ship-of-the-moment, and have plenty that I’ll probably never write for (came late to the fandoms) but love reading

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? I do aim to finish all my fics, but I have 2 WIPs (one dystopian AU that suddenly felt very close to the world we were actually living in, and one that involves a major character death that I put on hiatus after having a number of family members pass away in a single year) that I think it’ll take me some time to get back to

16) What are your writing strengths? Dialogue! I like to think I also do a good job of infusing humor into fics--something that makes the reader smile, even in what can be a fairly heavy fic

17) What are your writing weaknesses? Fighting scenes. Oof, they take it out of me, and especially writing for a fandom like Supergirl where so much of what happens includes fighting...damn am I out of my element! I also have no vocabulary for it, so it’s like...she punches a thing. Then another punch. Then a kick. Then an elbow. Also I think people use knees??

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I think there are ways to do it that can be really important and ways to do it that can veer into shitty fetishizing (e.g., when characters will slip into a language other than English only during sex and always with the exact same phrases borrowed from fic to fic). I only feel comfortable writing in other languages myself it if it’s a language I actually speak to avoid the weird awkwardness of Google Translate speak, but I know some writers who will find a language beta for this purpose, and that’s really awesome!

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for? Supergirl (I arrived to fandom much, much later than my wife!)

20) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written? It’s a total cop out, but I don’t know/it changes depending on the definition of best! I think one of my recent favorites has been I’d meet you where the spirit meets the bone

#personal post #fandom meme #fandom things #would love to see other people's answers too! so tag me if you see and do it!

13 notes · View notes