#its fine if i can just stick to a script but i usually fall on the questions they ask | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

v2xe · 11 months ago

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i got too carried away and ended up hitting the tag limit 🫠 hope it's alright if i just put this here instead

#SDJFGSDFNM asgsdfasd AGSDF GURGLES LIKE IM CHOKING ON MOUTHWASH FINALLY SOME GOOD FUCKING FOOD#I CANT BELOIEVE IM ONLY SEEING THIS FIVE DAYS AFTER IT WAS POSTED good lird#see i understand why there would be a split in the fandom abt this bc there is also a split in tumblr user v2xe#when i first played my reading was that sarah and jack's relationship was INTENDED to be portrayed as romantic#only the writers kind of expected them sharing some friendly lines + jack being the protag and sarah#being the princess would be enough for the audience to go “ah yes. romance”#and that the tragic and borderline romantic subtext jack has w astos was just incidental in the way it happens when writers#accidentally end up developing male characters and their relationships more than female ones#esp since se's games' track record w this is…….not great#(<-she is haunted by secondhand accounts from the tranches of ff16's writing)#and tbh i was ready to just assume this was my own little interpretation where it isn't that deep but it could be. and i could just build#myself a fun little sandbox in the hole i dug where the story could have expanded certain themes further but didn't#but after reading that one interview where the writers were like "maybe sarah was in love with him maybe she was just infatuated with what

#he represented" i turned into one of those shitty gore stick figures because what the fuck!! the writing agrees??#which meshes perfectly w her being sheltered which!! while i thought abt it i never really went into it like this and it makes!! sense!!#& a the same time yeah!! sarah IS a symbol. which having played ff1 i think was a cool way to go about expanding her role from that gam#oh so she's a symbol? she's a reward? the motivator that pulls you along to start your journey? ok fine then. i'll give you a Symbol#and if you asked me i think jack genuinely cared/s(?) about her (just not in a romantic sense)#and unlike other things i say here i can say w 100% confidence that the writers wanted us to notice he cares#like it always fascinated me how in the jp version jack's speech patterns change DRASTICALLY whenever he's speaking to sarah#idk much japanese but the formal/respectful way he spoke stood out massively compared to his usual form of speech#i get that this could be harder to portray in english without seeming unnatural but i'm sad they didn't include this tbh#bc we don't see him talk to ANYONE like this in the game i believe- not the king or queen not astos not anyone#they WANTED you to notice. they put a big neon sign pointing at jack and sarah there's SOMETHING important here#(tangent for some reason the spanish version got this backwards and it's ash and jed who address sarah formally while jack speaks in the same blunt manner...but that#version was so rushed it still has placeholder text in the script so i woulnt put too much faith in it having like…authorial intent lmao)

#& in general there are some very slight differences between the eng and jp ver that imo carry v different implications?#like how in eng jack just kinda sounds annoyed at sarah's request and his “of course” comes across as exasperated and sarcastic rather than#genuinely polite- which makes the scene of him tapping his foot seem like an intentional gesture of “stfu already” rather than “desperately#trying to contain the wave pure compulsive rage that drives me for 2 minutes so i can be polite to this girl" yknow? #anyway what i mean is that its interesting how his affection for sarah was also "weaponized" for the plan like the one he has for his friends #and yet sarah's role is more as a symbol than an emotional catalyst? to me at least-& i keep wondering WHY it's diff for her in particular #&it's not bc she was WRITTEN poorly i feel-if the writers did fall for that kind of trap we wouldn't have sophia or neon imo #it almost feels like theres all these conspicuous arrow signs pointing at something but i cant fucking see what it is??

#but after reading this i can see how that was kinda the point i think #at the end of the day this is jack's story. and us experiencing everything from his pov at all times is a big part of why the story works so well #it makes sense he wouldn't care for anyone's emotions or inner thoughts until it's too late- therefore the game doesn't show them #& sadly that includes sarah and what's going through her head #bc i kind of wish we couldve seen more of it- what was she thinking as she died? what did she feel? was it clean and straightfoward? #hope? despair? sadness? nothing at all? too many things at once? did she feel betrayed as she remembered? did she feel resentment for the #one man who could change her world by watching her die? how was she any different from the organic reconoissance unit Iving dead in a floati #-ng island somewhere surrounded by dead bats and FUCK I haven't even talked about astos yet #it's a tragedy that despite them having canonically interacted multiple times we never get to hear any of it :(( #tho i have to put a big * on all this because i know that this could very much be me critiquing the game on what i WISH it did #rather than on how it archieved what it was actually trying to do #imo sarah has the markings of god's little lamb(symbol of hope) most likely to be slaughtered #dare i say final fantasy's very own anthy himemiya #there's something about a character whose purpose is to essentially be a symbol #and who is also a sheltered young woman whose hopefulness is not a flaw but who is perhaps too idealistic for her own good that really intrigues me!! #and from that view i like how you can see her unwavering idealism as sheltered naivety or as something good and celebrated(? in the narrative #anyway sarah both as a character and how she fits into jack's story leave so so much room for fun stuff and i really appreciate that #in a better world i think they would have a lovely friendship

#ok running out of power now so ill stop and hope this doesnt read like gibberish or realize i missed sth if i reread it in the morning #i am so so sorry for the wall of tags none of this has much of a throughline this is just thought vomit bc this post made me Think #by which i mean this post is rearranging my brain and activating neural pathways i didn't even know i had rn #& in all seriousness im so so so glad i saw this!! even if i wish i had done it sooner!! its great to read someone's thoughts like this <33

"You Never Forget Your First Love."

The other day, a mutual (hi! you know who you are I think probably hello hi! thank you for the Posting Impetus!) said something that made me curious (for, like, the 80th time, actually; lol. I Have Thoughts) about something: what's the split on people who subscribe to the "Stranger of Paradise probably intended for us to believe that Jack & Sarah were in love" mindset, vs. not? In general, but ESPECIALLY around these parts.

I genuinely didn't read it that way myself (& I do NOT normally give media (general) this much credit, but the writing in this game is sublime; I had no choice but to fully engage Scholar Mode on it), + I think it's interesting that SPECIFICALLY any of my fellow tumblr people / AO3-heads / Gay People Online / etc. seem to have. (I expect nothing from people who haven't been basting themselves in the same online sub-subcultures as me for over a decade. They're allowed to write wrong things on wikis, and have done so already; it's whatever.)

I wanna metapost badly again, so let's go. Join me. No poll. If you have an opinion on this, I'm looking directly into your eyes and beckoning you towards your own keyboard + also the reblog button / comment section, like a weird ghost. What did you think when you first played the game?? What do you think right now? What are you about to think after you have read a bunch of my words. Tell Me. I Need To Know This.

Spoilers for, idk, everything? Today we will use everything we've got to talk about Princess Sarah.

1. As a Narrative Element

This game makes a point of referring to Sarah as things like "a symbol of hope and peace" as often as possible, & when it isn't doing that she's usually in the role of An Object Or Device Of Some Kind, anyway. She's important because she's capable of holding light and dark in balance & SOMEONE'S gotta hold onto this dark crystal for safekeeping, and also we're gonna need to upset that balance on purpose later. There's that conversation in the Wicked Arbor about whether the Strangers would "choose" her (as opposed to "treasure") as the "reward" for succeeding in their mission[1], & there's the one in the Sunken Shrine where Jed asks Jack what he thinks of her and Jack says that he doesn't care about her as a person[2] BUT that protecting her is mission-critical (lol), too.

Sarah's death is metaphorically charged. It's the point of no return: the dark crystal breaks, the balance of light & dark gets extremely ruined, & Literally All The Darkness In Cornelia converges in one place (Fool's Missive XXVII). That's the payoff for the "symbol of hope and peace" motif, and communicating this idea that "the metaphorical light of hope just For Real Died, Like Catastrophically Imploded, No Take-Backs" feels to me like it was the highest priority here. Second-highest goes to "Jack had way more humanity before, but he set it aside on purpose and is actively in the middle of losing the rest of it." "Sort of." "I'm not getting into what counts as humanity or doesn't because if I did we would be here forever."

Basically, I'm saying that the tidiest read on the situation is "Jack despairs because Sarah dying means in a very literary and final way that everything is ruined forever, which doesn't necessarily have anything to do with, like, Love (romantic)." I don't think the text of the game is particularly signaling that Love (romantic) is involved, and I think that if it meant to, it would be more obvious about it. You could bundle "an romance" into the "humanity" thing if you wanted to, but I'm not inclined to, based on some additional list items that you can read below this one.

[1] The fact that Neon ALSO says she feels bad for her for being thought of in this way only reinforces my conviction that the game is pointing at Sarah & yelling "REMEMBER THAT SHE IS MOSTLY A SYMBOL!", tbh. Who wants to go point out how freaky the mechanics of Being An Royalty are w/ me and the boys??

[2] I will give the Wiki WrongPosters this: I can totally see this as some kind of irony thing, given that he's still missing like a fucktillion of his memories when he says it. However! As mentioned above, I have other reasons not to read it as evidence that he was ever, like, romantically interested in her.

2. As a Sheltered Youth™

We don't have a TON of information to work with RE: Sarah as, like, a person, but here are a couple of hard facts to start with: she's 19 (per the data book, but she'd have to be somewhere in the 18-to-early-20's age range regardless or her whole deal wouldn't really make much sense, imo. She's a baby...!), and she's royalty. I think this ties into her utility as a walking metaphor, among other things; she's archetypically young, fresh, & idealistic. I'd call her naïve but the game obviously isn't interested in portraying it as a weakness, so positive words only; why not.

You could argue that people look to her as a symbol of hope because she hasn't directly experienced enough strife to exhibit hopelessness or fear in response to bad news in the abstract. I find it interesting that before Jack, like, knocks the wind out of her & tells Sophia to take her outside so she can see for herself how bad things have gotten at the end of the game, she says that her duty is to die with her people if she has to, & it doesn't even seem to occur to her that she could lead at least some of them away to safety...? When she changes her mind, she still talks about herself as a symbol before she ever uses the word "leader". She sees HERSELF in terms of symbols and metaphors, and takes action based on her designated role As One Of Those. Not very practical.

There's also the dialogue you can have with the queen the first time you're allowed to run around in the throne room at the beginning of the game, where she asks Jack to smile in front of her daughters (NOT just Mia; daughters, plural). Even if she only means "dude can you be polite please," the fact that this is The thing she has to say to Jack is telling. Is it going to upset your 19-year-old daughter to see that the Guy Whose Job It Is To Kill Monsters looks serious? Why do you think this? Does your 19-year-old daughter understand how serious the situation is, generally speaking? Do you not WANT her to for some reason? Boats don't work anymore unless a weird elf messes with them first. Not thinking very hard about the implications of this is something a sheltered person does.

Residual time loop un-memories aside, a young woman in this situation is so obviously going to have a huge crush on Jack Garland no matter what. He Is So Cool, first of all, & he's also Different from the adult men she gets to see on an everyday basis (family, guards, rando townspeople[3]...). It's not like the political social scene could POSSIBLY be thriving in this world, either; it all seems to be one kingdom we're dealing with and they're kind of busy with the external threat of being Under Fucking Attack By Monsters. Does she even get fun treats like "handsome visiting dignitaries" & what-have-you? The game doesn't present us with any potential options, here. Jack is mysterious, he has special-boy Warrior of Light status, his one job & apparent life's purpose is protecting the kingdom she loves, he's pretty nice to her (even in later cycles he at least goes out of his way to be polite!), & additionally, he's shredded. THIS makes sense to me.

There's a Q&A in the data book that has something to say about JACK as a symbol & what that has to do with this whole thing but we'll get there. We'll get there.

[3] Tangent: what's up with how Cornelia's entire adult male population appears to consist of aging queens. Why did they only make models that look Like That for the NPCs? It's awesome but I have 1 quastion

3. JACK JUMPSCARE !

I'm not about to say that he's just humoring her, or anything, but please humor ME for one second & put yourself in Jack's shoes. Not the default shoes; we can have more fun than that. Maybe the Banded Boots. Blurple ones? Shaped like a cartoon would wear them? Big spikes on the back for no reason? I love those things. Anyway, you're Jack. You're working for literally the king, & the work means Everything to you for reasons you can't even necessarily explain except to say that it JUST does. The king's eldest daughter (very young adult; Never Been Outdoors; a little overly-sociable but nice enough & what do you expect from a princess, anyway) has imprinted on you like a duckling for whatever reason. You would be nice to this person, yes? You'd be patient with her while you're in town. You have Brutal Murders to be doing, but not until, like, 2 days from now, or whatever; you're sharing space with her in some capacity in the meantime & it's in your best interests to keep her happy. (You probably even enjoy doing this, if you're Jack of a Way Earlier Cycle; I'm in no way ruling that out. Sharing your music collection with an enthusiastic Baby Adult? That's fun. I think he was probably having fun. Okay, you can step out of the fun purple shoes if you want; the Humoring Me Minute has concluded; thanks.)

Also, @2000sanimeop and I think that if Jack felt that way about her Astos would have been a little More Something about how much it was gonna suck for him when she died. In Fool's Missive XXVII he uses the word "painful," but that's about it. He doesn't even bring it up in XXV, which is the one where he says he's curious about whether she'd survive being turned into a fiend (side note: Astos fucking rocks. Why did he write that down?? I love him). & Hey SPEAKING OF ASTOS,

4. I wouldn't put Jackstos on a wiki, either.

The writing in Stranger of Paradise, SERIOUSLY, WITHOUT EXAGGERATION, is some of the best I've seen in literally anything ever. It suits not just its medium but also its sort of Place in History Relative to Other Video Games & the things it chose to DO with that medium & that niche INSANELY well. It is CUSTOMIZED. It's SO INTENTIONAL. I can't get too far into this or we'll be here all day, but the essence of what I want to say here is: there are relatively few facts presented to us by this game, compared to the implications we can go about drawing from those facts & other, external sources of context.

Sarah calls Jack her first love; that's a fact. No facts are presented to us that REALLY say much one way or the other[4] about what Jack thinks of this, himself; "fucktillion memories missing" Jack says he doesn't care, but he's missing a fucktillion of his memories, and DLC2 Jack has a set of dialogue options (hi Anne the Malboro I love you Anne the Malboro) that can point either way depending on what the player chooses, which is kind of nothing, on balance. As the audience, we can (should!) draw whatever conclusion we want about it, but none of those conclusions are text.

[4] I WILL GET TO THE DATA BOOK IN ONE SECOND. HOLD ON.

And, okay, please let me level with you. Let's be on the same page. Jack & Astos had some kind of thing going on, imo, OBVIOUSLY, but I want to be CLEAR and I want to get CREDIT for the things I'M bringing to the table to help generate this conviction. I drew that conclusion & I read that reading based on subtext, context, personal history, personal preference, & sheer gay zest for life. It is also, emphatically, NOT TEXT.

Astos refers to Jack with the ol' "...friend" in Fool's Missive XXI. He calls him "my Jack" in Fool's Missive XXXI. Canonically, textually, he has some big fucking COMPLICATED fucking feelings about this man. These are facts. If you're playing this game as Some Guy, I can see how you could potentially absorb these facts & still pay them much less regard[5] than I did & continue to. My argument here is that god I wish I lived in a world where Some Guy could extend the same courtesy to me and not treat Sarah's textual affection for Jack as something that necessarily indicates Some Kind Of Reciprocal Romantic Whatever, Definitely, Obviously, Of Course.

[5] Longer Tangent: I have been informed that the Some Guys of the world are currently pretty good at Recognizing a character that behaves in a way that's Pretty Gay, but tend to stop there, possibly for the combined reasons that A. they're not very familiar with a lot of the the ways gay relationships often work (you know, soul resonance. mutual recognition. sharing a brain etc.) and B. the Object Of Affection is usually the player character and they subconsciously shy away from thinking of a Guy They're Supposed To Identify With as gay. This is practically a lead-in to an entire separate post I could make, so I'll leave it at that, lol.

The writing is too good for that kind of assumption! I'M SERIOUS!! It's mind-blowingly subtle & endlessly fascinating to hold up to the light & view from every possible angle, and "Jack & Sarah were in love" + "Jack & Astos were in love" are BOTH ANGLES. I'm personally very very interested in giving the text credit for that. I think it's impressive. I think it's really, really cool, and I think it was on purpose. Speaking of which,

5. Word of God agrees with me, btw

This is from the Q&A section on page 156 of the Confidential File. The translations below are my own (I think they're straightforward enough, but lmk if you know more than me & I'm actually being stupid in there somewhere. Alt text has the JPN, if you want to copypaste it or something). Someone asked:

Why is it that you established Garland as someone Sarah has a romantic interest in?

The answer is from Daisuke Inoue (director, one of 3; the other 2 are from Team Ninja; he's from Square Enix):

That was because, from a narrative standpoint, we wanted Sarah to be the kind of person who holds onto hope. You can imagine that she saw the "hope" to save the world in Jack, a potential Warrior of Light. Sarah is seen by her people as a symbol of a bright future, but if there were nobody to give her hope, that might destabilize her emotionally. As for whether she felt genuine love for Jack, or just mistook her feelings of admiration towards him for "first love," we'll leave that to your interpretation.

The first time I read this, I thought the question was implying the aforementioned Reciprocal Something, but on closer inspection that doesn't even seem to be true! "思い人" seems to indicate a directional relationship; as in, the question assumes that Jack is an object of affection to Sarah, but assumes nothing about what Jack thinks.

Also, the answer uses the word "初恋" (hatsukoi), which is a very established Concept as far as "first love" goes, but in that one cutscene, Sarah says "初めての恋" (hajimete no koi), which is. Different, but I couldn't tell you how, lol. It's Not The Exact Same Phrase, but I'm not sure whether it's meaningfully different in this context. If I had to guess, I'd say that IF ANYTHING it could be a way of saying "first love" without invoking the cultural CONSTRUCT of First Love (as much)? But it's whatever. The localization holds up. All sources show that Sarah had Feelings about Jack, and all sources CONSPICUOUSLY neglect to mention Jack's feelings about her.

It was on purpose. This is my license to be as annoying as I want for one second here. I am right. All the other writing in this game is notably subtle, efficient, intentional, and skilled, AND ALSO, WHEN do you ever see anyone write such a richly beautiful, mostly-subtextual relationship between two men, which can easily be read as a romantic thing, and NOT explicitly canonize a very possible romantic relationship between at least one of those men and a woman, like not even in an interview or anything. What the fuck, man.

I'm putting away the Respectable Scholar Hat now. This is so funny. The person asking this question didn't EVEN go as far as assuming Jack & Sarah had any kind of Actual Romance going on, & the answer STILL dials it back to "she might have been conflating her feelings about Jack AS A SYMBOL with actual affection, also. We'll let you decide : ) ". This game is everything ever.

#sop #veeposting

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aminiatureworld · 4 years ago

Text

Steadfast

Characters: Childe, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,241

Warnings: Swearing, Angst

Premise: He’d always assured you that he wouldn’t change, that he was still the man he was before. And yet how different things were, and how much it hurt to see what had come to pass.

In which the reader sees the changes in Childe

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for this request anon! Really from the bottom of my heart thank you. I really liked the concept of this prompt, I feel like it really gave me an opportunity to focus on how relationships change and grow, rather than always writing about new couples, or people just beginning to fall in love, although there is of course that involved. It’s interesting to see how people grow and change, even if it can be a little sad sometimes. Writing this was kind of depressing, I hope that this wasn’t too sad, considering you requested hurt comfort. I might’ve gotten a bit carried away…

Funny story, I actually hate one of the people Childe shares a name with. Look what you did to Cassandra Ajax the Lesser, look what you did… So to make up for this unfortunate coincidence I pronounce the names differently in my mind. Ajax the Lesser is pronounce “A-jack-s” and Childe’s name is pronounced “Ai-axe”.

I decided not to bullet point this, as I feel like it works better in a more “traditional format”, that being said if bullet points are easier to read I can go back and fix that.

When you’d first fallen in love with Ajax it had been before the change.

Back then everything with him had seemed so exciting, like stepping into the sea for the first time. You were a bit afraid, worried that you might be swept away all at once, but another part of you wanted to run straight ahead, to immerse yourself in this new and exciting experience. Wanted to keep going and never look back.

You’d known Ajax since before you could remember. The two of you had grown up in the same small village, where one could hardly take five steps without bumping into someone, and being close in age had made you automatic playmates. Ajax was a brash child, not always easy to get along with, but impossible to pull away from. Even when he knocked you to the ground, or sat on you so you couldn’t move, declaring himself the winner of whatever you’d been playing, you’d still run to meet him the next day, the tears you’d shed utterly forgotten. Childhood friends might’ve been a cliché, but it was truly then that Ajax as a person had begun to stick in your mind.

This only continued throughout the course of your adolescence. Attending the same schools you two were nearly inseparable, causing you merciless teasing from the rest of your classmates. Ajax apparently got the same treatment, resulting in him decking a kid who declared you two were going to get married when you grew up. He’d been suspended for a few days, but never seemed to regret it, and when you’d gone over to his house to ask about it he’d grinned as usual, proclaiming he’d gladly do it again.

Growing up was a difficult process, so many snags and pitfalls, new anxieties, and old ones that you’d never truly worried about before. But it was all perfectly fine with Ajax there. He was always ready to pick you up, and flash you a smile to go along with his help. No wonder you found yourself hopelessly infatuated him, years of trust and affection building up to the newfound feeling of love.

And then Ajax went missing.

You still remembered the terror that shocked your system when his mother visited, tone unnervingly light, asking if you and Ajax weren’t playing some type of game. You’d bolted outside when she’d revealed Ajax had gone missing, running towards the woods that was the only exit to the village where you lived. The adults had quickly caught up to you, but your fears had already grabbed hold, and you found yourself confronted with all you felt for him. You loved Ajax. How did this happen? Love was still so foreign, a word you could throw around but never truly catch. And yet you loved him, you loved him very much. And now he was gone.

They didn’t let you see him initially, saying he was tired, he needed rest, he’d be alright in a few days. Your imagination had run wild, your mind spinning a terrible story. Perhaps he’d been mortally wounded, perhaps he could no longer see, made blind from the snow and the cold. Perhaps he wasn’t really back, and they were simply lying to make you happy. These thoughts chased you, and it was only when you saw him again that your heart settled, even if a part of you whispered that Ajax was altogether changed.

He’d begun to leave the village. Though no one quite knew where he was you certainly knew a lot of brawling was involved. He’d sometimes sneak into your house, in a last ditch effort to keep his parents and the rest of his family from finding out how much he’d truly changed. You’d cried sometimes, seeing him with black eyes and bruising, slashes of red marring his hands, his arms, his face. He didn’t like to see you cry, would start scolding you, as if it was some fault of yours to feel worried, to care for someone who already was growing into a stranger. He always realized his fault though, and after a little while he’d pat the spot next to him. You’d sit down, head sometimes on his shoulder, listening as he spun his tales of greatness into the night, as if he were a knight fighting a great dragon and its army, rather than a troubled new adult with nowhere to turn to in terms of understanding.

When he’d ask you to be his partner you thought you’d never feel unhappy again. You felt like you were on air, kept grounded only by his arms around you, his heart beating steadily against your ear as you nestled against his chest. You could tell he was happy too, and though it amazed you slightly that he should be as in love with you as you were with him, you could only thank the Tsaritsa and every other archon under the stars, thank them for being so generous as to give you all you ever wanted.

It seemed such a funny thought in retrospect, when it was the Tsaritsa herself who was now tearing him away from you.

“Ajax, how could you?!” Your voice felt odd to your ears, somehow too thin, distant, as if someone else was saying it. “You knew, you knew that you’d have to join the Fatui. So why, why in the name of the Seven did you start that fight!”

“They were asking for it!” Ajax’s voice was just as raw, frustration mixed with something unknown. Entitlement perhaps, fear otherwise. “You should’ve heard the things they said about me, about my family. How they’d raised a good for nothing thief, a shithead who knew nothing more than how to swing a sword, and who would one day meet someone bigger than him, and die in the street, given to the rats, utterly forgotten. I had to prove them wrong! It was a matter of honor!”

“It was a matter of ego!” You cried, feeling the ground spin slightly underneath you. “How could you let them goad you like that Ajax, goad you when you knew exactly what was going to happen.” Sitting down you put your head in your hands. The world was shattering around you, and there was no one to blame for it except the one you loved the most.

“My darling, please, I don’t want to fight.” Ajax knelt down in front of you, taking your hands in his as you raised your head to face him.

“You always want to fight…” you replied, voice hoarse, pitched barely above a whisper. “And now you’re leaving, leaving to be part of an organization of cowardliness and deceit. What happened to the adventures you were going to have? What happened to the dragons you were going to slay?”

“I’ll get them yet.” There was amusement in Ajax’s voice, but it was clearly forced, and soon forgotten about. “I promise it’ll be alright, my darling I would never do anything to knowingly hurt you.”

And yet you have, you thought. You’ve run a dagger through my heart, and now your talking to me as if I’m not being destroyed by it. It hurts, it hurts so damn much.

“You’re going away.” You finally replied. “You’re going away to a place that will only destroy you more. And now things will never be the same again. Haven’t you wondered about what will happen to you there? If you’ll ever be allowed to return home? Haven’t you wondered whether or not you’ll ever see your family again? Things will never be the same again Ajax, never. You’ve crossed the chasm, and now you cannot return.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Ajax placed a hand on your cheek. “I promise nothing will change. I will always be myself my darling. This is only a stepping stone, a piece of my journey. I promise, I promise I will always remain as I am. And I’ll never forget about you, nor my family, nor this village. Nothing is going to change. I’ll make sure it won’t. So stop crying my darling; tears never looked good on you anyways.”

And yet, how things have already changed. Still, you said nothing, instead wiping your eyes and pressing your forehead against Ajax’s. His familiar presence was reassuring, and you thought of the years ahead of you, perhaps the eternity ahead of you, when you could no longer rely on him being there. Your eyes welled with tears again, and this time you made no move to stop them. You let yourself cry. If there was anything in the world worth crying about, surely this was one of those things.

There was a new name signed in Ajax’s letters. “Childe” was the first name, “Tartaglia” was the second. They seemed to mar the page somewhat, written in Ajax’s – no, Childe’s – bold, slashing script. You hated the names, hated the memories they stirred up, reminders of all you’d lost in such a small amount of time.

The day you’d found out Childe was to become a Harbinger you’d raged as you’d never raged before. Locking yourself in the small apartment you’d managed to find – having moved out of Morepesok once the memories had become too oppressive – you’d spent most of your time reading the letter over and over and over.

He’d wanted you to attended, writing you were basically his family at this point, and besides, he wanted to show you to the Tsaritsa. Though the line about family filled your heart with no little affection, you’d refused flat out. It would’ve been too painful, seeing the crux of his transformation; the death of Ajax, the birth of Tartaglia. Childe had said nothing to your refusal, but he was clearly worried, and for a while afterwards the letters were more frequent. But even that stopped after a while, and now you savored what little information you could get, the torn pages of last month’s note a testimony to how much you reread them.

You wished that you could somehow end this purgatory you’d found yourself in. Though you’d begun your own career by now, pushing yourself to your limits as you were sure Childe was doing in his, nothing seemed so important as the drama that had comprised your entire life. How long had you known Childe? You could no longer remember. Long ago, so very long ago. Back when the world was simpler, comprised only of candy from one of the big cities, and fighting over the best fishing rod. Tears were shed over particularly brutal games of tag, then forgotten the next day. How odd that world seemed now, something you could never go back to.

Every once in a while you’d be met not by a letter, but by a visit. Those were the best days. The days where you could set all your worries and your unease away. When you could once more press your ear against Childe’s chest and feel the steady beating of his heart. As long as you could do that, maybe it’d be alright.

“How’s my darling?” Childe’s voice carried down the hall of your apartment. You’d dropped the letter you’d been reading, his letter, and ran towards the entrance. Throwing yourself in his arms you wept tears of joy. Childe returned the embrace just as enthusiastically, though his eyes were dry. They’d changed, his eyes, or perhaps you’d just learned to notice the hardness that resided in them. “I’m home.” Childe murmured, eyes closed, expression one of perfect bliss. “Don’t worry beloved, I’m home.”

His presence never left yours the days he came to visit. Always there was an arm slung around your waist, or a chin resting on your shoulder or your head. His presence was as comforting as ever, and you soaked it in gladly. He’d changed. Not that you were surprised by that, of course he’d changed. His confidence was much more calculated, his words now slicked with flattery and deceit. He easily persuaded the fishmonger to give you a discount, and some sweet talk with the waiter at a café you frequented earned you a free lemon loaf. You took it, knowing that he just wanted to treat you, but the sugary confection stuck to the roof of your mouth, which had somehow developed a bitter taste.

You said nothing about it. There was no longer any point in arguing. You two were tied together by all sorts of strings. History, location, youth, love. And yet you’d gone your own separate ways. No more were the dreams of adventuring together. The real world had come along and stolen it away. The Tsaritsa had ripped that future from your grasp, and with it went your happiness.

“Are you happy, my love?” Childe asked late one evening. You were cuddled on the small couch in what comprised your living room. You nestled against Childe, breathing him in. Were you happy? No. But in that moment you weren’t unhappy either. In that moment you could forget it all.

“Do you think that sailors feel lonely?” You asked instead, drawing circles absentmindedly on the palms of Childe’s hands. He wore gloves now, expensive ones, not like the mittens that were popular in Snezhnaya. It was so odd to watch him put them on each morning. How things had changed. “They must be lonely,” you continued now, “for there’s nothing but the ship, the water, and the stars above.”

Childe paused, staring off into the distance. He did that a lot recently. You didn’t begrudge him it. Sometimes, when he was in a frank sort of mood, he admitted that he didn’t like the Fatui’s underhanded nature. Better to fight something head on than attack from the shadows. He’d quickly added on that it was the Tsaritsa’s wish, and surely she must know better than him. But it must’ve been difficult, following a path so different than the one you were born to. Betraying your nature, every day of your life.

“It must be lonely sometimes.” He finally replied, glancing back at you. “But I don’t think they’re lonely, no. The stars may be far away, but they’re steadfast, unchanging. And sailors will always be able to rely on them.” You were silent, considering his views.

“Still... stars are so very cold.”

“Perhaps, but they’re also beautiful, are they not? And like I said, who ever heard of a star changing?” A pause, as it seemed Childe was steadying himself, dipping into unpleasant territory. “I hope I will always be your star, my love. I hope you will always be able to rely on me.”

“I will.” You promised, giving Childe a quick kiss. You meant it, even if you weren’t sure that the metaphor was apt. Childe was forever changing; his mannerisms, his name, his location, his words. Sometimes it seemed as if there was nothing left of Ajax, nothing but a small sliver of light, shivering in the darkness that was fate.

“And I will always remained steadfast in my love for you.” Childe promised in return. “For there is nothing more important to me than family, and you are my family. You are that which I hold closest to my heart, and I’ll never stop loving you. I promise.”

His words were smoother than they had been before, polished by the need to be appealing to those who heard it. But you knew they were true. All throughout your life, throughout the pain, the hardship, the feeling of slowly falling off a cliff, all throughout that the one thing that remained was the love between you and Childe. Even if you had nothing, at least you had that.

“Childe?” He grimaced at the word and you paused. “Ajax,” you began again, “are you happy?”

Childe didn’t reply, instead leaning over to kiss you. You reciprocated it gladly, not truly wanting an answer to your question, although a part of you desperately needed it. Was Childe happy? You couldn’t tell. But despite your newfound hatred for the Tsaritsa, your disdain for the gods which had grown in the years of your hardship, your long abandoned faith, you still prayed to the Seven that Childe was happy. Because he deserved it. Because you loved him.

You tried not to cry when he left, wanting to see him off with a smile and a wave, the way noble men and women would wave to the knights who were on their way to save the kingdom. But always your voice betrayed you, cracking and shaking, trembling violently against the knowledge that you wouldn’t see your loved one again, not for a very long time.

“Be careful.” You whispered, giving Childe one last hug.

“I will.” He assured you, kissing your forehead. “You be careful as well my love, I couldn’t stand it something were to happen to you. If anything happens, think of me, I’ll rush to your side immediately.”

“Don’t forget to write,” you replied, switching the subject so you didn’t have to think about the implications of Childe abandoning the Fatui, what might happen to him if he tried, “your letters are all I have.”

“I hope that’s not true!” Childe said, tone full of false mirth. “I hope you’re happy beloved, I hope you find happiness when I’m gone. Your life ought not to be spent waiting for me.”

“But you’re all I have.” You replied, staring down at the ground. “Everything has changed. My home, my work, my future. Even you’ve changed, you just keep changing and changing, running farther and farther away. But you’re still all I have. And I have to hold on to you, no matter what.”

Childe brought his hand to your cheek, raising your gaze up.

“I’m not changing my darling. No matter what I do, no matter where I go, I’m still Ajax. I’m still the man who wants to spend his life with you, who wants to travel the world with you, fighting monsters, sleeping under the stars at night. I’m still the man who wants to wake up with you every night and go to bed with you every morning. I’ll never run ahead of you, I’ll never leave you behind. Because if I’m all you have then you are what keeps me myself. You are why I can still be Ajax. And that will never change. So don’t despair, and don’t let yourself be swallowed up while I’m gone. Live your life to the fullest, I promise I’ll always be there, waiting for when you need me.”

Childe waved from the ship he’d boarded until it disappeared over the horizon. You waved back, even as your arm ached and your hand fell asleep. “Goodbye.” You whispered to the wind. There was no reply, but then again you weren’t looking for one.

Childe, Ajax, Tartaglia. These names all belonged to the one you loved. He was a whirlwind, a rogue current which had knocked you off your feet, carrying you into uncertainty. And yet you welcomed him, longed for him, loved him with all your soul.

Even if things kept changing, even if the Fatui’s hold on him only grew stronger, you’d still believe in him. He was your star, guiding you through a desolate ocean. Even if he sometimes disappeared behind the clouds, he’d always be there. You had to believe that, had to trust him.

He was your star after all.

Your Childe.

Your Ajax.

#If you really want to feel down look up the lyrics to “Dear You” and have it on as you read #For some reason the Higurashi soundtrack really fits this fic #I realize there’s a lot of crying in this I hope it’s not too much #childe #childe x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #oneshot #my writing

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98prilla · 5 years ago

Text

Heat Stroke

I’ve seen a lot of “deceit is cold blooded so he gets cold easily” and I decided to flip the script. Too much heat is just as problematic for reptiles as too much cold. Read on A03 Here

He was warm. Not unusual. He tended to burrow under blankets while he slept, making more of a nest out of them than anything. He rolled over and yawned, about to go back to sleep, but he frowned. It was bright. He could see the light through his eyelids, it was far too bright in his room, he never left the lights on when he slept.

He realized with a jolt of panic that he wasn’t lying in bed, either. He didn’t feel the soothing weight of his blankets atop him, nor the softness of his mattress below. Instead, he felt hard ground.

He shot to his feet with a hiss, instantly awake and on guard, quickly taking in his surroundings with a sinking heart.

He was on a large, smooth rock. Before it was what looked like mulch woodchips. But beyond that….

He was in a cage. A terrarium, more accurately, he imagined Logan saying with an adjustment to his glasses. That brought a smile to his face for a moment, before it slipped away.

The glass sides of the tank extended upwards, so high and smooth there was no chance he was going to be able to climb them. The tank itself was a decent size, long enough it took him forty paces to reach from one side from the other, and twenty paces wide.

The most concerning part, besides having been somehow caged in the first place, was the light, and the heat it brought with it.

Looking up, he could make out what seemed to be a uv light, mimicking the sun and its rays, as well as its heat, along with a heat emitter bulb.

He was already growing uncomfortably warm. He could feel sweat starting to slick his skin, and he desperatly realized there was no shelter from the “sun", not shade, no water, anywhere to be found.

This was bad. This was beyond bad. This was awful.

Without realizing it, he reached for his power, trying to sink out, panicking further when he realized he couldn’t. He could still feel Thomas, but something was keeping him well and truly trapped here.

He started pacing furiously, knowing it would only make this worse in the long run, but he supposed it didn’t matter.

None of the so called light sides would trap him in this manner, no matter how much they disliked or disagreed with him. They were too fundamentally caring to put him through this. No, if they had the nerve to want to kill him, it would be a blow from Romans sword, not… not this.

Which meant it was one of the others, one of his… no. They weren’t his people anymore, were they? Hed given that up when he appeared to Thomas, when he’d made himself known, inserted himself into the equation after denying the rest of them that very thing for years.

He'd be lying of he said everything was fine over on the dark side of the mind, if he denied it was all falling apart, he’d known sooner or later there would be a price on his head. Because he was the only obstacle between them and Thomas.

And they were tired of waiting.

Suddenly furious, he glared at the glass. He took a breath, retreating as far as he could, before he took a running start, slamming his shoulder against it.

He fell back with a pained cry, gasping as he tried to push past it. He only fell apart more as he looked up, realizing his attempt hadn’t even left the faintest trace of a mark against the glass.

He growled, getting to his feet, winding up before charging again. And again. And again. And again. And-

He screamed as he felt something in his shoulder give, his arm hanging limply at his side, the smallest twitch of his fingers sending agony coursing through his entire left side.

He slumped to the ground, head pressing against the glass as he tried to contain his sobs. He couldn’t cry. He couldn’t afford to lose any more water content.

He was hot. He was so hot. It felt like he was slowly burning, from the inside out, any moisture on his skin had already evaporated, and he could feel himself starting to get lightheaded, the world spinning ever so slightly.

No. No! He wouldn’t give up, he wouldn’t die here, he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of killing him.

Because unless he got out of here soon, he was going to die. His reptilian traits went deeper than the surface, after all. He’d always had trouble regulating his body temperature. With no shade, no water, no respite to the endless, aching brightness, he was going to overheat. He was going to be cooked alive. He was going to die.

It was slow, and cruel, because he knew exactly what was happening, he was lucid and aware as he staggered back from the glass, searching for something, anything, he could use, common sense giving way to terror.

His only hope was to buy time. Time for the lights to find him, as slim a chance as it was they would even notice, much less care.

Wincing and swearing with every step, he made his way to the edge of the rock, praying it didn’t go down too far, that it was just settled in the dirt, and started to dig.

It felt like hours. His forehead burned and his hand shook and he could feel his heart pounding too hard and too fast, like it was trying to claw its way out of his chest. He kept stopping to cough, so hard he thought his lungs would burst, so short on breath his body was convinced he must be choking, but the air scalded his insides, sent pain blazing down his throat.

Finally, he was down deep enough, down was the hard part. The mulch down here gave way to soft earth, still blessedly moist earth, and he widened his hole until it was just big enough for him to fit, if he curled up his tightest.

He’d made a burrow, digging out a small shelter underneath the basking rock, out of the light and the very worst of the heat, though it wasn’t enough.

He shivered. He knew that was bad, shivering. It meant his temp was hotter than that of his surroundings. Down here was cooler, only slightly, but cooler, and that meant he was already as hot as the surface of the cage, he guessed 101 or so, and rising.

He curled tighter, head against his knees as dark spots danced before his vision. He counted his breath, trying to slow his racing pulse, trying to breath in air, but his heart was so, so loud, it drowned out even his thoughts as he felt his muscles go limp.

What did it matter, anyway? No one was coming. No one cared. What did it matter, if he burned to death on his own heat, here?

It didn’t, he supposed. He let out a dry laugh, his tongue sticking to the bottom of his mouth, so dry he couldn’t even make spit anymore. It was like the sahara, in his mouth. He couldn’t speak now if he wanted too, which was somehow the most terrifying thought of all, because words were his weapon, his armor, his defense. Without them, he was nothing.

He was nothing.

He was…

Virgil was in the midst of the worst panic attack he’d ever had in his life. His knees were curled to his chest and he was rocking back and forth, unable to focus on anything else besides the noise in his head, screaming at him that it wasn’t safe, wasn’t right, wasn’t good!

He couldn’t see anything through the black and white spots peppering his vision, his breath coming in too short, unsteady gasps, that tore at his lungs and throat, that burned his chest and screamed in his ears.

He couldn’t hear anything over the blood rushing, pounding in his ears, his hands gripped his hair, he could vaguely feel his nails digging into his scalp, pricking fine points of pain, he could feel his teeth biting his lip so hard it started to bleed, but that pain wasn’t enough, it wasn’t grounding enough, he could taste the copper on his tongue, and it only made him gag, made his pulse rush faster. He knew someone was counting, someone was trying to reach out, but it was too hot, too hot, too hot!

“He can’t hear me.” Logan stated, withdrawing his hand at Virgil’s strangled noise at his touch, shaking his head hard and fast. Logan had stopped his counting. “He’s too far in his panic spiral.”

“So what do we do? Just leave him?” Patton asked, fear pitching his voice higher than usual. None of them had ever seen Virgil quite this bad, he looked to be on the edge of passing out.

“Where is he?” Roman yelped, jumping as Remus launched himself over the couch and into the common area.

“What the lemony snicket!? What are you doing here?” He asked, but Remus’s gaze had locked on Virgil. He walked purposefully towards him, before being blocked by Logan.

“Move.” Remus growled, glaring up at Logan, who’s arms were folded, letting his fierceness drop when he found no suspicion or hate in his eyes, only concern.

“I don’t know if given your turbulent history with Virgil, you should be interacting with him in his current state.” Remus shook his head, and Logan was surprised to find tears forming in his eyes.

“I can, I can, I need to, you don’t understand, it’s not him, it’s not-” Remus’s fists clenched and unclenched as he let out a breath from between his teeth, struggling to keep his words in order, to keep everything from spilling out, he was shaking, he couldn’t stop shaking.

“Please! Pleasepleasepleaseplease...” Logan heard Patton’s sharp inhale of breath as Remus broke into tears. He looked over Remus’s shoulder, seeing Roman speechless, gaping like a fish. Patton looked shocked, and he nodded once, towards Virgil. Logan frowned, but nodded back, looking down at Remus.

“ok. Just... just be careful with him.” Logan said softly, squeezing his shoulder as he stepped aside. Remus nodded, taking a few steps forwards, before kneeling in front of Virgil, who still rocked, breath catching and heaving, eyes covered by his bangs.

“Vee.” He said the old nickname, and instantly Virgil froze, head jerking up, eyes blown wide with panic as they met Remus’s.

“R...r...ree...” Remus shook his head, moving closer.

“It’s ok, stormy, don’t try and talk. It’s him, isn’t it? It’s Dee?” Virgil nodded so fast his head spun, and he closed his eyes against the wash of dizziness.

“Feel it. Bad, is bad, too hot, too hot!” Virgil cried, hands digging deeper into his scalp.

“None of that, now. Squeeze my hands ok? As hard as you need. You’re not gonna hurt me.” Remus said softly, surprised as Virgil instantly let go of his hair and clutched Remus’s hands as if they were his only lifeline, so hard Remus could hear bones popping.

“Good. That’s good, Vee. I know it’s hard, but I need you to focus. I can feel it too, he’s in trouble, bad trouble, right?” Virgil nodded again, and Remus could feel him calming somewhat.

“I need you to tell me what you can feel. What he can feel. We need to find him.” He could feel Virgil trembling, shaking as he started coming back to himself, rocking a bit faster on his heels. “I know its hard, I know it doesn’t feel good, I know it hurts, but you’re the only way we have to find him. I need you to try. I’m right here, I’ll be right here. Okay?” Remus reassured. Virgil bit his lip, wincing at the pain.

“O... oh... okay. Cl-closer? Pl-pl-please?” Virgil asked, breathless and shaky. Remus scooted closer, surprised as Virgil climbed onto his lap, letting out a trembling breath. Hesitantly, Remus let out his tentacles, wrapping them around Virgil to keep him steady on his lap, so he didn’t have to let go of his hands.

“Too much?” He asked, feeling Virgil shaking in his grasp.

“N-no.” He mumbled. “G-g-good.”

“Okay. Are you ready?” Virgil nodded. He took as deep a breath as he could, before squeezing Remus’s hands tighter, closing his eyes.

It was hot, it was far too hot. His throat was dry, scorching air in and out. It was dim, but not dark, he could feel something soft and dry on either side of him, dirt? Hopeless, he was hopeless, he was sure no one was coming, no one would find him, the others had done their job well, caging him in this glass prison like the snake he was, light and heat and rock and it was hot, hot, hot!

Dying, he was dying, he could feel it. His heart pounded too hard and too fast, his breath was shallow and quick, his vision was failing, his senses shutting down, he was burning, every inch was burning, and he was giving up, it was too much, his eyes slipped closed and-

“No! Nonono n-n-n-no, D-d-dee, Dee, d-d-d"

“Virgil. Virgil, where? I need to know, where?” Virgil was hyperventilating, on the edge of breaking down again, but he knew Remus was right, they needed to know where. He squeezed Remus’s hands harder, it hurt, it hurt, he couldn’t hold it much longer, but he needed to know, which one, which one, where...

“Wrath!” He gasped out, slumping against Remus, exhaustion cresting over him. “it was wrath.” He whispered, feeling the tentacles retract, only Remus’s arms left holding him, his hands having let go at some point, but he was too worn out to care, to open his eyes. He felt Remus press a soft kiss to his forehead, the tip of his nose. It reminded him of when Remus used to put him to bed at night.

He would always tell some rambling, nonsense story, it didn’t make any sense, and it didn’t have to, it kept his brain occupied, trying to decipher the words, letting his worries fade and allowing him to get some sleep. Before he drifted off, Remus would always tuck him in tight, whisper words of love, kiss his forehead, his nose, his cheek, before turning on his nightlight and gently shutting the door.

“Thank you. You did so good, my little storm cloud, my dark night. You are so, so, good, love. I’m so proud.” Remus murmured in his ear.

“Dee... y-you need to g-get Dee.” He felt a gentle hand brush his bangs back from his face, caress his face softly, and he shuddered, leaning into the contact.

“We will, Vee. I’ve gotta let you go, okay? We’re gonna go get him, right now.” Virgil clung to him tighter, shaking his head. For the first time, Remus looked up at the others.

Logan was looking at the two of them critically, no doubt trying to decipher what was going on, what had just happened, and Remus thanked his lucky stars that he had let Remus through, none of the others would have known what was happening, much less how to calm Virgil from an attack like this one. They’d never had to.

Roman was looking at him with wide eyed surprise and suspicion, a frown on his face, but Remus didn’t care what Roman thought at the moment, he had more important things to worry about.

“patton. I’m leaving you with Patton, ok? He’ll take care of you, you know he will. And... and I’ll be right back, ok? I’ll be right back with Dee.” Remus promised, shifting Virgil in his arms as he stood, passing him to a surprised looking Patton.

“He needs to sleep. Lots of sleep. And he usually gets cold, after this. And... and he might have nightmares. He will, until I get to Dee, but even after that, so be careful if he wakes up in the next hour or so, he won’t be here, fully.” Remus listed off, turning away with fire in his eyes.

“Remus. I would like to come with you.” He stilled at Logan’s words, turning to face the logical side, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Why?” Logan adjusted his glasses.

“because from what I heard just now, it seems Deceit is in some sort of mortal peril, and I have the most medical knowledge of anyone here. Whatever the situation, I will be able to assist.” Remus didn’t have time to argue, and truthfully, he didn’t want to.

“I’m coming too.” That was more surprising. Roman and him were on ok terms, but still, Roman kept his distance, thought Remus was weird and gross. Roman softened at his brother’s gaze. “I know we don’t always get along, but I don’t hate Deceit. We need him, as much as we need you, as much as we need any of us. And if it is wrath, you might need the extra sword.” Remus nodded curtly, running a hand through his hair.

“Ok. I can take us directly there, take my hands.” Remus ordered, smiling just a bit as he felt two hands instantly hold onto his. He let out a breath, steeling himself. “this might be a bumpy ride.” Then he closed his eyes and the three sank out.

Logan and Roman staggered as their feet touched solid ground. It had felt like they were falling for eternity, swirling around and around until they hadn’t known up from down, until their minds spun and they feared they’d never make it out.

Then it was suddenly over.

“Um... you alright? I did say it was a bumpy ride.” Remus said sheepishly as Logan straightened his glasses, and Roman stood up from where he’d been hunched over, trying not to hurl.

“Fine. I’m fine. Let’s just... get a move on.” Roman replied, glancing around. They were in a hall with doors, much like their hallway on the light side. Remus stalked over to one painted brilliant, crimson red, flame decals across the bottom. With a battle cry, he kicked the door in, mace in hand as he prepared to swing. He froze instead, mace dissepating in the air as he ran to the glass.

“Dee! Snake face, can you hear me?” He shouted, pounding against the glass. No response. He swore, mace appearing back in his hands. He wound up, and swung forcefully. It bounced off, but left a hairline crack. He screamed, and hit it again, fractures spiraling up the glass. One more swing, and an explosion of glass shattered inwards, sending him stumbling forwards and onto his hands and knees. He barely noticed the glass cutting into his knees, scratching his hands and cutting into his skin. It didn’t matter.

Dim, not dark. That’s what Virgil had said, so he wasn’t above ground, somewhere, there was no shade to be seen. He noticed the heat next, it was hot, easily over a hundred, probably more, and he cursed again. Too hot, burns, Vee was right yet again.

He scanned the mostly empty area, noticing a strange pile near the large rock in this... god, he hated to call it an enclosure, but that’s what it was. He sprinted towards it, feeling himself sweat. He ran hot, if he was already sweating from this, and Dee had been here long-

The pile wasn’t Dee. It was dirt. But next to the pile was a shallow hole. He dropped into it, looking around, dim, not dark. And there he was. He sucked in a breath, cursing in a nonstop rant as he reached in, gently extracating Deceit from his clumsily made burrow.

He was burning hot. He was so hot his skin was red and burned, his scales were dry and flaking. His breath was far, far too fast and shallow, rapid breaths against his too quick heartbeat. His head lolled against Remus’s chest, completely limp in his arms, and one arm hung at an unnatural angle. He was too hot, too dry, his fever was up to 110.

“The fuck are you doing in my room?” His voice was hot and scorching, raspy and burning. Remus turned, glaring just as hard as Wrath was, feeling his tentacles sprout from his back, his mouth twisting into a snarl. Surprise flashed across his face as Roman and Logan stepped between him and Wrath, Roman’s sword drawn, and Logan’s hands glowing a deep green.

“Oh come on, you brought the lovey dovey squad with you? How pathetic.”

“Not pathetic. Strategic.” Logan replied. Wrath rolled his eyes.

“Please. How’d you even know he was here? I made sure he couldn’t call for help.” Wrath stated, leaning casually against the wall, making Remus growl deep in his throat. “Was it that little tattle tale wannabe light side? I’ll have to pay him a visit, teach him a lesson.” Remus moved to step forwards, but Roman did before he could, eyes aflame.

“You won’t be going anywhere near him. You won’t be going anywhere near any of them, ever again.” Roman growled, flames erupting from his sword, and with a slash, they sprung from the ground, surrounding wrath in head tall, burning blue flames. For the first time, fear sparked in Wrath’s eyes as he pressed back against the wall.

“you wouldn’t.” Wrath hissed, and Roman’s eyes narrowed as he leaned through the flames, which didn’t singe a hair on his body, pressing his blade to Wrath's throat, just hard enough to draw a bead of blood.

“I fucking would. And if i ever see your face again, if you ever threaten my family again, if you ever hurt any of them again, I will. I’d lay low for a while, if I were you.” Roman hissed, twisted smile on his lips as flames danced in his eyes. ”Otherwise, who knows what unfortunate accident might befall you?” With that he turned on his heel, walking back to Remus, Logan already examining the unconcsious Deceit with a frown on his face.

“He’s gotten heatstroke. A very acute, severe case, as well. The best thing we can do is get him back to the commons and work on cooling him off, slowly, so as to not shock his system. If we do this carefully, he should be alright. I can tend to that arm there, as well.” Logan reassured lowly. Remus nodded, glaring up at Wrath once more, hoping he conveyed all his hatred and ire in that one look, succeeding, if the shudder Wrath gave was any indication. Then Logan and Roman each took hold of one of his arms, and they sunk out.

Hot, hot, burning. His scales were flaking, falling off, his skin was peeling, turning red, his breath was short, his heart was failing, he was dying, Dee was dying, he couldn’t hold on any longer, they were too late, and he was gone-

He shot awake with a wild sob, hands covering his face as he shook, unable to shake the vision of Dee from his mind, unable to tell if it was true or not, but he could still feel the residual pain, the fire that crawled through his veins, that burnt him up from the inside out, that devoured his breath and his lungs.

He jerked as he felt a hand on his shoulder, meeting Patton’s eyes.

“Kiddo? You okay?” Virgil shook his head, arms wrapping around himself. It was still too hot, too hot, but something else, something good. Safe, he was safe, they had him!

He scrambled to his feet just as the others sunk back in, everyone staggering except Remus, who had a determined look on his face as he set Deceit down on the couch. Instantly, Virgil was on the couch, Deceit’s head in his lap, stroking his hands through the side’s hair, tears falling silently down his face.

“Roman, get me a box fan, something that can blow a steady stream of air on him, and the aloe from the bathroom. Patton, a bowl of cool water and a washcloth, as well as the ice packs. I’ll get my medical supplies. Remus, stay with the both of them.” Logan ordered, everyone splitting up on their respective quests.

“Vee? How you doing?” Remus asked softly, sitting on the arm of the couch behind Virgil, wrapping his arms around Virgil’s middle.

“good. Bad. I don’t... it’s all... still see it.” Remus nodded, tucking his chin against Virgil’s shoulder.

“It’s ok, stormcloud. Can you breathe with me? Just try to match me, okay?” He breathed in deep, mentally counting, emphasizing each step, feeling Virgil begining to copy his rhytm. By the time the others returned, he’d slid off the arm and into Virgil’s seat, Virgil curled on his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, face pressed against his chest in sleep, Dee’s head in his lap.

“We need to remove his layers, it’s only hindering him at this point. Roman?” Logan asked. Roman nodded, and with a snap, Deceit was in a soft tee shirt and pajama shorts. It was strange, seeing him so exposed, and a bit unnerving. It frightened him, seeing the usually suave and smooth side so unguarded and unresponsive, Roman realized, and looking at the others, he could tell they felt the same.

Quietly, Roman plugged the fan in, turning it on low and setting it on the coffee table, blowing air at Deceit’s torso. Logan took the ice packs, and positioned them under Deceit’s armpits, under his knees, and behind his neck, setting the arm in a sling, frowning as Deceit didn’t react at all to what would have been a very painful jolt. Patton carefully, gently, rubbed in the lotion and then the aloe onto his skin, wincing at the burns and dryness, at the flaking scales, at the heat still emenating from his body. Remus took the rag and started dabbing at Dee’s forehead, trying to cool his temp.

“Now what?” Patton asked, slumping back on the opposite end of the couch, looking to Logan for answers.

“We can do nothing but wait. Now that he is out of there, and cooling down, his pulse and breathing should start to return to a steady and normal level. He will be exhausted, his skin will hurt like a severe sunburn and take some time to heal, but he should be stable in only a few hours, awake a few after that.” Logan said, falling into his armchair. Roman was the only one who couldn’t seem to settle, pacing the floor.

“Remus, what...what was happening? With Virgil?” Patton asked, concern in his eyes as he realized Virgil was still shaking, face scrunched tight in his sleep.

“He sees things. When... when one of us is in trouble, he can sense it. Usually it’s not much, it’s small enough it doesn’t affect him at all. Like when Roman’s stressed over a video deadline, or Logan can’t solve an equation, or you can’t find the recipe you’re looking for. He feels it, the... stress, the anxiety, he can tell where it’s coming from and who. This... this was so strong, I could feel it. I knew he must if I could. When it’s that strong, he can’t separate what’s happening to the person he’s feeling and what’s happening to him. It’s like he’s there. That’s how I knew he could find Dee. He could see where he was, feel it, though it’s hard to focus enough to see details through someone else’s perspective. Between pushing himself to see, and the panic attack, he’s completely wiped out.” Remus answered, rubbing Virgil’s arm as the side started to whimper in his sleep.

“There’s only been a handful of times it affected him this badly. The first time was me. I got into a fight in the imagination I couldn’t win. I managed to get away, but I didn’t have the strength left to heal myself or shift the enviroment. I was bleeding out on the forest floor. Scared the hell out of Dee, but he caught on pretty quick that Virgil wasn’t just panicking, something was up. Enough details spilled out, Deceit realized what was going on, managed to find me based off his descriptions. I’d be dead three times over it weren’t for him.”

“And the other times?” Logan asked. Remus scowled, face darkening.

“What, can’t deduce that? Most of the others have never been fond of Dee. He’s the only thing keeping them away from Thomas, the only obstacle in their way to running rampant. I at least have the sense to see he’s right! I hate it, but he’s right to keep me from Thomas, to keep me away, to keep my presence to a minimum. I hate... I hate how I am, but that’s not his fault, has never been, and he...” Remus stopped, too choked up for a moment to continue, his gaze resting on Deceit’s too pale face. “The other three have been traps. Set for Deceit. To kill him. So the others can run free.” Remus laughed hollowly, shaking his head. “How funny, right? He plays the villain, puts on the façade, so you all don’t have to face the real monsters in Thomas’s mind. He’s spent every second of his existence protecting you all, keeping them away, almost dying for you and your precious standards of purity and light, and you couldn’t give less of a damn if you tried.” Remus closed his eyes against the grief and sadness and futility overwhelming him.

“I... I didn’t know... I’m sorry, Remus.” Remus shook his head, laughing bitterly at his brother’s words.

“You didn’t care to know. There’s a difference. Whatever. It doesn’t matter, it’s not the point.”

“Remus. It does matter. I mean it, I didn’t think, and I’m sorry. How... how long has it been like that?” Remus shrugged.

“It wasn’t so bad. We were never as close as you guys. But it only got worse after Dee revealed himself. It made them mad, why should he be able to show himself, but keep them all hidden? Who was he to hold that power? It had always been him, me and Virgil, against them. We both understood Dee, agreed with him. Virgil is fight or flight, anxiety, after all, he knew it was a bad idea. And I... well. Look at me. I know I’m not good. I know I’m just... just an illness. Then... then Vee left. We both helped push him out the door, pushed him to show up and make himself known, we knew what would happen, we knew he would leave, but we knew it was for the best. But it got harder, after that. They got stronger, and madder, and Virgil still stepped in, if we asked, but we didn’t want to drag him back into it, so we didn’t as much as possible and it was only a matter of time until something like this happened and I-” He caught his breath, gently stroking Deceit’s scaled cheek, cracking open his tear streaked eyes as he felt Deceit lean into his touch, though he still showed no signs of awakening. “I tried. I just... I can’t be everywhere at once. And he doesn’t tell me everything. He goes off on his own sometimes, and Wrath must have nabbed him then. Probably ambushed him, else Dee would have bit his head off.” Remus said fondly, dabbing the cloth over Dee’s scales, trying to get some moisture on them.

With his normal outfit gone, it was easy to see why Dee wore so many layers. Scales in varying colors, from the gold on his face, to deep silvery blue along his arms and pale lilac on his hands traced patches and lines across his body. His nails were sharp, reminiscint of talons, and he was thin, but his muscles were toned, no doubt allowing him more strength than he seemed capable of, and his whip fast speed. Along with the scales, they could see lines of old scars on his skin, no doubt a testament to all the scrapes he’d gotten into with the others.

“We’re moving you. If... that is, if you want. I’ll move your rooms up here right now. Then they can’t get to Deceit, and he can keep them contained using his power from a distance. If he has to go down there to handle them, at least he has a safe place to come back to up here.” Patton’s voice was gentle but firm, and Remus was left speechless at the offer. He opened and closed his mouth several times, taken aback.

“yes. Please.” He finally managed to spit out, spurred on by the concern on Patton’s face. Patton nodded with a small smile, closing his eyes. He felt out their rooms in the mindscape, in the downstairs, and pulled, with all his might, feeling them settle in the hallway, opposite each other, next to Virgil and Roman’s rooms, respectivly. He staggered as he finished, Roman stopping in his pacing to catch him, keep him upright.

“Okay, padre?” He asked, Patton clutching at his shirt.

“Yeah. I just forgot how much energy that takes. The last time I did it was Virgil, I don’t think I’ve ever moved so much at once. I maybe got a little ahead of myself, there.” Patton said, trying to step away from Roman. His legs buckled from under him, and Roman swept him up off his feet, leaving Patton giggling and smiling sheepishly at the bridal hold, Roman equally as flushed at his own instincts.

“Er, sorry. I’ll settle you down on the other recliner, yeah?” Roman asked, chuckling as Patton yawned, shaking his head.

“Nah. You’re cozy...” Patton murmured, tucking his head against Roman’s chest, arms wrapping around his middle in a hug as his eyes drifted shut. Roman rolled his eyes fondly, kissing the top of Patton’s head, smiling as Patton let out a soft happy noise, nuzzling closer as he sat down in the chair and tucked a blanket around Patton.

“Guess it’s naptime. Wake me up if anything happens, Lo.” Roman said softly, settling in and closing his eyes, starting to snore softly almost immediately.

Logan’s full attention turned to Remus. Despite Deceit in his lap, and Virgil koala hugging him, he was tense, eyes roving over Deceit’s face as he dabbed at him with the cloth, frowning at every tic of his eyelids, every twitch of his fingers. Occasionally he paused to smooth back Virgil’s hair, murmur softly in his ear when he made a distressed sound or squeezed him a little tighter, no doubt having a nightmare, as Remus had said to expect.

His mind turned over and over all the things Remus had said. He should have realized sooner that the others would not be friendly towards Deceit, and it was not a large jump to violence, for those sides, anyways. But that’s not what his mind was stuck on.

“Remus. You... do you believe, what you said, about yourself?” He asked, watching Remus flinch imperceptibly, sink back into his seat, brows furrowed as he looked at the floor.

“yes. It's... it’s true! I’m just the screw up, the bad part of creativity, the part Thomas didn’t want, and all I do is drive him up the wall and none of my ideas are good, and Deceit was right, to keep me locked away. Cause look what happened when he let me out. It’s like you said. It’s better... it’s better to just ignore me until I go away.” Logan softened as Remus’s voice cracked, the creative side still refusing to look anywhere near him.

“Oh, Remus. That’s not what I meant at all. And you’re forgetting what else I said. That you would help Thomas if he chose to pursue more adult themes, which we all know he is going to. Perhaps not dolphin sex or whale genetelia,” That got a snort of laughter out of Remus, and Logan adjusted his glasses, pleased, “but the topic of depression, which has already been lightly touched on, the topic of suicide, of self harm. And that is just as you pertain to Thomas. Not as you pertain to us.” Remus looked up at him, hope and puzzlement warring on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we care about you, as Remus, not just as creativity. Patton doesn’t shift the mindscape lightly, and surely you’ve noticed Roman trying harder to spend time with you, to get to know you again. I had been trying to be welcoming as well, though emotions are... hard for me to express in the way I would like. You are not an illness. You are not a disease. You are useful, you are needed, you are loved.” Logan said the last sentence with a rush, already embarased by what he’d said, but the broken, shattered look on Remus’s face stopped him. He took a breath, and crossed the few steps to where Remus sat, crouching so he was at eye level with him, holding his gaze steadily.

“Remus, you are needed. You are loved. You are wanted.” He repeated, slowly, wishing he could chase away the doubt and fear on Remus’s face.

“Truth.” Came a quiet, rasping whisper, making the both of them jump. Deceit’s eyes were open a slit, though he didn’t seem to have the strength to move, to even turn his head.

He felt awful. His limbs were like noodles, his head lolled against Remus’s knee, and he tried, but he couldn’t even shift his neck to get a better look at Remus, who was hovering over him like a mother hen. His vision was blurry, forms too bright and fuzzy at the edges, he couldn’t even open them all the way. He only knew it was Remus because of the streak of grey that stood out against the dark, and his voice. He tried to speak again, to reassure Remus, but his words caught in his throat, and he ended up coughing, his mouth desperetly searching for moisture, but it was dry, dryer than it had ever been, his tongue swollen and thick against the roof of his mouth. By the time the fit had passed, he was wheezing for air, air that burned his too dry throat and nearly sent him into another round.

But then someone was helping him to sit, and there was a glass of water to his lips, and he tried to drink slow, but it felt so good. It was like a cooling breeze in the midst of a muggy summer day, like rain over a forest fire, the sweetest, purest, relief he’d ever felt in his life, and he let out a whine as the glass was taken away.

“Easy, Deceit. Too much at once will make you sick. You can have more in a few minutes.” Logan’s voice reassured. He cracked his eyes open further, squinting against the brightness that seemed to be everywhere. “How are you feeling?”

“tired. Cool. It's... h-how did you...” He swallowed, trying to get the lump in his throat down as it all came rushing back. The heat, the fear, the surety that this was it, this the end, no one was coming, he could still feel the earth under his nails, the heat all around, the fire eating away at him-

“Dee! Deedeedeedeedee-” Then there was a bundle of warmth throwing itself at him, sending him sprawling back across the couch, and it took him a moment to recognize the splash of purple against the darkness of his jacket. Without pause, he wrapped his arm around Virgil, pulling him close, realizing the other was bound in a sling against his chest, aching dully. Virgil didn’t seem to care, he wrapped his arms around Dee’s neck, burying his head in the crook of his neck, legs wrapping around him in a koala hug, pressed so tight against him Deceit could feel every tremble and breath and heartbeat against his skin, soothing something inside him, warming him in a good way from the inside out.

“Shadow, little shadow, you found me. You did it, you found me, dearest, it’s going to be ok now.” He murmured, feeling Virgil’s tears against his shirt. “so brave, you’re so very brave, dearheart.”

“W-w-wrath had you, h-h-h-ot, saw it, can’t, c-c-can't st-st-stop-” Deceit shushed him, pulling back, pressing a kiss to Virgil’s forehead, his cheeks, finally resting his forehead against Virgil’s, all he could see those dark, violet eyes.

“I know. But I’m here, dearest, because of you, I'm here. I’ll be right here. Go back to sleep, lovely.” Deceit murmured, watching as Virgil struggled to keep his eyes open. “I’ll be right here.” He kissed Virgil’s eyelids as they fluttered shut, and Virgil let out a soft sigh against him, curling into his chest and somehow holding him tighter. Deceit nestled his head atop Virgil’s, and let his own eyes slip closed once more.

“Dee?” Remus, voice worried. He couldn’t find the strength to peel his eyes back open, not with Virgil hugging him tight, filling him with warmth.

“M’fine. Tired. Lil dizzy, yet, but m’fine.” He mumbled, slipping into darkness once more.

With those two curled up together on the couch, there was room for Logan to slip into a seat beside Remus, hesitantly, carefully, pulling him into a tentative hug. Remus froze at his touch, and he worried he’d overstepped, then Remus let out a soft wail, hugging him back, letting his stress and worry and fear drain out of him in his shaky, quiet sobs.

“You meant it. You meant it.” Remus said breathlessly, wiping away tears and snot on his sleeve. Logan frowned smally.

“I did. I think it is safe to say Deceit will be alright. He has clearly recovered from the heat, if not the exhaustion. Meaning you should get some sleep, as well.” Remus looked like he wanted to protest for a moment, before slumping into Logan’s arms with a sigh.

“Alright. Only for you, Lolo.” He closed his eyes and started snoring just as fast as Roman had. Logan chuckled, taking off his glasses and setting them on the coffee table, before settling back in his seat. Some sleep would be good for him.

Virgil woke first, slowly, sleep trying to tug him back into its warm embrace. He was still tired, no, exhausted. It reached to his bones, the weight trying to tug him back down, and blearily he thought he hadn’t felt like this since-

His eyes shot open, breath speeding for a moment as he saw only black, before he felt the warm exhale of breath against his hair, and realized he was being held tight, entwined with another side. Shifting, he felt everything inside him loosen as he saw that half-scaled face, as he felt Dee’s heart beating, his breath coming in and out, his skin still looked red and flaky, but far less angry than the day before. As he watched, Deceit let out a soft groan, his own eyes slowly flicking open, resting on Virgil’s, a soft smile quirking his lips.

“Hi.” Was the tired word that escaped his lips, but it was enough, because Virgil was hugging him again, so tight he could barely breath for a moment, before his hold loosened and he pulled back, a fierce look on his face.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again, Dee. Don’t... don’t scare me like that.” He muttered furiously. Deceit sighed, shifting to sit up, Virgil following and settling beside him on the couch. Deceit ran a hand through his hair, looking around the room, surprised to see Logan curled up with Remus in his arms, less surprised that Roman and Patton were in the same position on the recliner.

“Oh yes, because I very much wanted to get trapped in a container like I was some kind of pet and then boiled to death from the inside out. That was exactly my intent.” He replied, unable to help the sarcasm that slipped into his voice. He smiled as Virgil let out a breathy laugh, resting his head on Dee’s shoulder.

“Okay, fair. You’re just lucky Remus was around.” Deceit frowned, turning to look at Virgil.

“How are you doing, dearest?” Virgil let out a breath, fidgeting with his hoodie sleeves.

“Alright. Still... worn down. Remus helped. God knows I wasn’t making sense, but he calmed me enough I could focus, I could see... I was scared...” Virgil said softly, so softly, and Deceit reached out, tucking Virgil’s bangs back, stroking his cheek.

“I know. But you did such a good job, shadow, little shadow.” Virgil rolled his eyes, but shoved his head against Deceit’s hand much like a cat demanding pets. He laughed, and started massaging Virgil’s scalp, the action soothing both him and Virgil, it had been so long since he’d had this much contact with anyone, he realized.

“Mhph. Virg? You up?” Roman grumbled, stretching and yawning hugely as he blinked open his eyes. Deceit froze, flinching back, expecting Roman to shriek or summon his sword, and he was too tired to deal with his theatrics and put up his usual façade. Instead, Roman’s eyes widened, and he gently shook Patton.

“Pat! He’s awake!” Instantly, Patton was on his feet, crouching before Deceit.

“Oh, goodness, I’m so glad you’re up. Logan said you’d be fine and just needed to sleep, but you had me scared, kiddo. Um, we have some lotion and aloe here, for you, but I don’t know if you use something else on your scales that might help, they’re pretty bad, too. Do you want something to eat? Oh, and I should get you something to drink right away, you’re still really dehydrated, water? Or would juice be better, it has more sugar and stuff?” Patton rambled.

‘Patton, you’re crowding him. Juice would be preferable, and something simple, toast and scrambled eggs, if that’s acceptable?” Logan asked, looking to Deceit, who nodded.

“Yeah. Sounds... fine. I have some oil, in my room, Remus knows where.” He said softly, realizing Remus was awake and staring at him as if he hadn’t seen him in years. Abruptly, Deceit realized his normal outfit was gone, leaving his legs and arms exposed, and he shivered.

“We changed you out of your clothes yesterday, to aid in your cool down. Your temperature is sufficiently lowered now, if you wish to change back. We also have moved your and Remus’s rooms up here, with Remus’s permission.”

“You don’t have to do that.” He answered softly. Logan cocked his head.

“But we have. What I said to Remus applies to you as well, Deceit. We should have worked to make that clearer, sooner. Please, let us help.” Deceit blinked slowly, before nodding, settling back on the couch.

“Ok.” He snapped his fingers, and his outfit changed into soft fleece pajamas, patterned with dark scales. It felt good against his sensitive skin. Remus popped back up, a bottle in his hand, which he passed to Deceit.

“Let me help. I can reach the ones on your back.” Virgil said, gently taking the oil from him, waiting for a reply. Shakily, Deceit nodded, feeling his aching muscles start to relax as Virgil carefully rubbed his back. He realized Remus still hadn’t said anything, an unusual occurance, and met his gaze, tilting his head in a silent question.

Remus let out a breathy laugh, sitting on the couch cross legged before Deceit, taking both of Dee’s hands in his, simply staring at his face as if he couldn’t get enough of it, searching it for something, though Dee couldn’t pinpoint what.

“Ree?” He asked, gently, and Remus squeezed his hands.

“What if I hadn’t noticed you were missing? What if they distracted me enough I didn’t come after you? What if I didn’t feel your panic? What if Virgil hadn’t been able to see? What if no one realized what was happening until it was too late? What if we found you and you’d shriveled up like a prune, crumbling to dust before our eyes? What if we watched your heart slow and stop and your breathing stutter out and your eyes close and they never, never opened up again? What if-” Deceit gently extricated one of his hands from Remus’s, and guided it to his chest, over his heart. “I can’t stop, can’t stop, it’s so loud...” He muttered, Dee rubbing circles against his knuckles.

“I know, love. But you can feel that, right? Tell me what that is.” He asked softly, earnestly.

“You’re heart.” Came the mumbled response.

“Yes. And what is it doing?” Remus’s eyes flicked to his for just a moment, before looking away again, though he could see the thoughts starting to slow, his eyes starting to clear.

“Beating.”

“Good. Now, what about this?” He asked, moving Remus’s hand so it was over his diaphram. “What is that?” He could see the small smile starting to grow on Remus’s face.

“You breathing.” He murmured. Deceit smiled.

“Indeed. Do you know why, my heart is still beating, I am still breathing?” Remus didn’t respond, but he was looking at Deceit now, meeting his affectionate gaze. “Because you did notice I was gone, you did feel my panic, you did find Virgil, you did focus him enough he could see, you did find me in time, you did get me help and you did make sure I was alright. That’s what matters. Can you remember that for me, Ree? Can you focus on that?” Remus’s smile was bright as he nodded, tears in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around Deceit, who laughed as Virgil was pulled into the hug by Remus’s tentacles, grumbling but making no move to escape the hold.

He could hear Patton in the kitchen, the smell of eggs starting to waft through the room. He could hear Roman talking softly with Logan, who was already flipping through whatever book he was reading, trying to find the page he’d been on. And he could feel the warmth from his two best friends surrounding him, filling him with a soft joy he hadn’t felt in far too long.

And he wondered if nearly dying was maybe the best thing that had ever happened to him

#sanders sides #deceit sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #oc dark side #he's barely in it #sympathetic everyone #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #deceit angst #Angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #heat stroke #familial dark sides #protective everyone

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battle-of-roses · 3 years ago

Text

When Rome Burns : Part 1

TW : Logan Roy's A+ Parenting, Manipulative Logan

By @your-gay-cousin-clover

---

With a certain hint of trepidation, Tom starts dressing himself to meet up with Shiv in downtown New York. The plan was pretty simple for the day: meet up with Shiv, find a gift for her father, put on his best Midwest honourable fellow personality and charm the pants of all her family. He stopped for a moment in the middle of his bedroom, standing there in his white button up, boxers and black socks, biting his lip on whether to take the gold ring, he’d picked out a week ago, to the party. After all this time he had spent with her, ever since their whirlwind romance in Hong Kong, he was sure that she was the one for him. His soulmate, the-one-who-he-got, his loml. The question was of when?

The party would be a good place to propose. Lavish surroundings, her entire family, and a pretty pricey ring to show his commitment to her. All eggs in your basket, he’d say if- when she said yes. And it would all be fine and okay. He starts to daydream for a moment, his dreams flying higher than just becoming Logan Roy’s son-in-law, maybe he’d join in the business himself. He would swoop in, take over one of the main branches of Royco, maybe ATN and continue the family business until he had his own billionaire kids à la Shiv.

Beep! Beep!

His fantasies suddenly dashed down into the floor. He jerks and reaches to the phone on the table to receive the call. It’s Shiv.

“Hey honeybee,” he says in a sweet-syrupy tone that he hoped conveyed his affections accordingly.

“Where are you?”

He immediately frowns. Her tone is clipped sharp, a razor’s edge, threatening him to not speak a word off their usual script.

“I’m … ahh… just getting dressed. Oh, oh, how formal is the even supposed to be? Do you think I could sneak in a tartan tie pattern to impress your Dad?” He tries to detract from her irritation.

“The fuck, Tom? Don’t be silly. Just wear whatever you want, you’re not a pre-schooler. It’s a formal event, but don’t wear anything weird or embarrassing.” Her words just kick up a latent anger in him that he press down as per usual. It’s alright, maybe it’s her job that’s got her stressed.

He tries another jovial voice for a size. “Ok, love-,” he continues, but there’s no Shiv on the other side of the call. Just him and the dial tone mocking him.

Right.

Nothing weird or embarrassing.

He drops the ring into a drawer of his bedside table and shuts it close.

—

The day goes in its own pace and Shiv makes a hasty apology about her signal getting dropped in the elevator. He waves it off, he always goes. There’s no use holding on a grudge with his future-wife-to-be, on silly things like one too many passive aggressive words and brushed off endearments. And so, here he is now. Standing in the middle of an opulent penthouse living room, chatting pleasantries with Marcia, hands sweaty as he tightens his grasp on the gilded box with the watch.

It had been pretty expensive to purchase on his own. He and Shiv were comfortable, sure. But they - no, he wasn’t Olympus rich like the Roys, America’s number one conservative messiah. He hopes it’s enough. Enough for a job at ATN, enough for Shiv, above all, enough for Logan.

His fucking future hung on a balance because of a little ticking metal machine.

Ding!

There. The elevator’s number stuck still on their current floor and his breathing picks up. Everyone else collects around the door to waiting as the metal door open, but he stands back, alone. For a split second, he’s swallowed up in all the gold, gild and glamour around him and he simply can’t breathe.

He sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of all this. No matter how brave, how much of a fucking asshole he pretends to be. He does not deserve to be here. He’s what? Got a few hundred thousand in his savings, while collectively in front of him stands the 3rd richest family in America. He just wants to bolt and never come back.

And in the same fleeting moment, the doubt hastily vaporises as Logan Roy himself steps into the view amidst loud yells of “Happy Birthday!”.

The moment he sees Logan, it’s something of oh, that echoes in his head. Like oh, he’s just an old man. And he indeed looks frazzled, startled by the sudden cheers. But he whispers something to Marcia, who takes his coat and hands it off to one of the numerous maids hurrying around the house.

And then he straightens up to face the crowd. There’s something in his eyes that makes Tom want to shrink back against the patterned wallpaper. Something fierce, something very calculating. He watches as Logan makes his way through the crowd of his children and nods absent-mindedly at everyone’s greetings.

“Shiv,” Logan says, turning to Shiv, his back to Tom “Where’s Wambsgans? I thought we invited him.”

Shiv’s expression falters for a second, perhaps debating whether her father’s joking or not. It’s clear, he’s not, when the beat of silence extends between them. She smiles back again, radiant. And gosh, Tom loves her so much.

“He’s behind you, Dad!”

Tom didn’t have much time to be mortified as Logan turned to him and stuck his hand out to shake. Awkwardly balancing his watch box on one hand, Tom tries to make grip firm and solid. Logan gives him two shakes and quickly removes his hand.

“Wambsgans, you’ve got a strong grip. Trying to break an old man’s hand, eh?”

Fuck. Of course, Logan Roy would be above all masculine handshaking bullshit that the Wall Street posers were really into. Logan knew he was the king of the world, didn’t need to prove it to any Tom-Dick-Harry on the street.

Logan’s already turning away from him, but Tom tries to swallow his foot down the throat trying not to make his first impression even worst. He lets out a laugh, but winces internally. Too braying, too harsh, too corny.

“Well, you’re not that weak, Mr Roy-“ He tries. He does. But Shiv already looks disappointed and Logan’s barely listening to him. His time to prove himself is running out.

Ding!

Everyone turns to look at the elevator again. Kendall Roy steps out the lift with his ex-wife and children in tow. He’s wearing that same black blue outfit combo, just like the one on Forbes, proudly declaring him as the HEIR WITH THE FLAIR. Tom has read Kendall’s entire wikipedia enough times to know that the stress marks and the lack of the photogenic smile was simply because of his age.

Drugs - Divorce - Demotion.

Yet like every American hero billionaire, Kendall got the second chance that could only be afforded to the rich and now, most probably, he was going to the Successor to the entire media conglomerate. Even then, Tom wouldn’t say that he exactly envies the other man.

“Ken!” Logan’s voice somehow sounds surprised as well as disappointed. “I didn’t think you’d come. Did we close the Vaulter deal?”

Kendall’s stance becomes a bit wooden as he reaches down to accept his father’s embrace. His ex turns to Marcia and hands off a wrapped box with a pleasant smile. The kids run off with Grace’s kid and Kendall stands there looking a bit unsettled as he answers “oh, no, no Dad. They’re still hammering out the details. I took a break to wish you on your birthday. Not sure how many more there might be.” The conversation mills a bit around the two, everyone leans in a bit to hear.

“You did?” Logan repeats with furrowed brows. “Well, where’s your cousin? I thought he’d rather come than you.”

Kendall looks taken aback for a moment. Everyone tries another round of conversation, but Tom simply nods along to other’s words as he tries to figure out information about the cousin. A cousin? Shiv’s never mentioned a cousin being involved in … well, anything.

“Greg?” Kendall asks, his voice uncertain. Logan looks him in the eye and shares a sardonic grin. “Yes, Greg. Unless Marianne happened to suddenly stop by. What’s he doing? Wasn’t he with you this morning?”

Kendall seems to shrink into himself under his father’s gaze. “Greg’s..” he starts and stops for a moment. “Greg’s with the team in the building. He wanted to finish the deal before joining the party.”

“Shame.” Logan says, “But good for him, as soon as we wrap up this deal the better. Anyway, kids, can I talk to you alone for a moment? I just want you to sign something.”

All of them exchange glances with each other, the meaning of which Tom is too novel to understand. All of them quietly follow in the steps of their father. The rest of them stare.

“So,” Marcia says, clapping her hands together. The sound echoes in the eerie silence devoid of birthday wishes. “Let’s get started on lunch shall we?”

—

On the way to the “game” which was highly requested in a cult-like chanting, Tom abruptly turns to Shiv and asks “I didn’t know you had cousin working at Waystar?”

She ceases typing on her phone and looks up with pinched brows, seemingly in thought. Tom watches the city go by in a blur from Shiv’s side of the window and waits. “

“Oh,” She says “You mean Greg? Yeah, he’s like my second cousin. Uncle Ewan’s only grandson, although I don’t think he’s seen them since he was ten? He’s chief strategist at Royco. You’ll see him soon enough when you join.”

A when, not an if. And immediately, Tom’s heart lifts. He fights a grin on his face and catches Shiv’s eye. She smiles a bit, the stress from her face falling away for a second and turns back to her phone.

All was well.

—

All was not well.

Tom kind of looks like an idiot. At least in his own head, he’s been lugging around the watch box the entire evening. Right now, he’s standing behind Logan and Shiv like an obedient puppy waiting for Shiv to call upon him. The rest of the family is setting up the baseball game while the groundskeepers looking on fascinated.

Tom pretty much feels like them.

“So, about Tom,” Shiv says and Logan seems to be considering her words. Tom’s ears pick up, his hands turn sweaty again and he fidgets with the box in his hands. He imagines he can hear the watch tick inside like a time bomb.

“Hmm…” Logan replies, peering out into the distance. Kendall’s already gone into the wind, about half-an-hour ago, his ear glued to the phone talking to “Greg”. Tom waits for that syllable to end and simply waits.

“What do you think about putting him under Greg?”

Despite the short distance between him and the duo, he hears an undercurrent of something sinister his way. Something almost amusingly cruel.

“Wh-why Greg? Isn’t that - like isn’t he already busy with the buyings and everything else? And surely you don’t expect Tom to be his assistant? He’s much more experienced in business.” Shiv’s protest add a bit of tension to his mind.

What was the deal with this Greg? It was almost as if he was some kind of a boogeyman to Shiv and her siblings. But someone that Logan clearly approved of, but there was something very odd about the whole missing cousin.

It was as if being put under the cousin would somehow be bad for him. Geez, was he some kind of a hardass?

“No, no. I’m sure Greg’s not to busy to welcome your boyfriend into the family business. He can help guide Tom and put him in a fitting department. Not to busy to help family.”

Tom expects Shiv to say something. To put off Logan’s plan and for a moment, she does. But instead, she stops and frowns.

A beat.

Tom takes it as his cue to step in with the box.

This better work.

—

#ficlet #part 1 #When Rome Burns #WIP #writing wip #tomgreg #tom x greg #Greg Hirsch #Cousin Greg #Tom Wambsgans #partial Tomshiv #Succession #Succession HBO #alternate universe #AU

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lupin72 · 4 years ago

Text

Pretty Damn Lucky

Anon asked for a fic where ‘Lucy is pregnant and is freaking out because no one knows that she and Tim are even dating. How would they react and how would they tell everyone at work?’ This wasn’t something I had given any thought to before but I hope it worked out okay!

Lucy stood frozen, staring at her reflection in the mirror before her. Her arms braced her weight against the sink. If it hadn’t been there to stop her fall, she wasn’t sure she would still be standing. She was alone in the precinct bathroom. Alone, that was, apart from the positive pregnancy stick in the sink.

What was she going to do?

She had only been dating Tim for four months. No one even knew about it yet. He was a sergeant at the station, and she hadn’t been fully qualified a year. They wanted to wait it out. With any luck, she could prove herself as a cop first and then everyone else could know.

The baby inside her clearly had other ideas.

Lucy had only taken the test on a whim. They had always been safe. Hadn’t they? But when she was sick this morning and with her period now two weeks late, she had thought she should. Just in case.

It wasn’t just in case anymore.

Ten minutes passed before she found it in her to make her way to roll call. Her walk was casual as she could make it, her facial expression somewhat neutral. Lucy sat at her usual seat. And then Tim walked in and any composure she had scraped together shredded into nothing. He didn’t smile at her like a normal boyfriend would have. Instead, as their eyes met, he merely nodded in pleasant hello before he sat down in his seat. Right next to hers.

As had become their custom, the one small grace they allowed themselves, Tim slouched just enough that his knees were far enough apart so that his left one bumped Lucy’s right. It rested there. It was the only point of contact they allowed themselves when on shift. Sure, they might escape for a brief conversation in passing in the corridors but with an audience, this was as much as they dared push it.

Usually, the brush gave her goosebumps. The secret relationship could be hot in its own way. Today it sent her stomach somersaulting.

They hadn’t discussed children. Hell, they hadn’t discussed anything about their relationship past keeping it a secret for now. Everything was very much for now.

How was she going to tell him?

That choice was pushed when Jackson had to drop Lucy back off at the station mid-way through their shift. She had thrown up a grand total of four times and no matter how she tried to insist she was fine; Jackson was having none of it. She knew he was right. She couldn’t work in the condition she was in.

Lucy wasn’t ready to acknowledge that pretty soon she wouldn’t be in the field at all. She was only freshly qualified and yet it was all about to blow up in her face. She knew she wanted the baby, hadn’t doubted that since she saw the test. But that didn’t mean she was ready for all the consequences.

As she stood in the bullpen, just about to turn for the locker room her phone beeped.

Tim- are you okay? Heard you were sick on shift. Come up to my office before you go?

Lucy smiled at the message. He was caring, if a little overprotective sometimes. He had always toed the line when it came to her. He had admitted, during a late night drinks at hers, that he had let his feelings control his actions when she was kidnapped. That he knew he would jump in front of any bullet meant for her and would never try to train that instinct away. He wasn’t happy when she admitted she felt the same for him.

But they were working on it. Working on his trust both in her and in the fact that this wasn’t going to go wrong. Lucy knew he feared it. Knew he was full of so much fear from his relationship with Isabel and then with Rachel. Two long term partners that had left him in the dust.

She just hoped this wouldn’t ruin their shot too. Not that she thought it would, she realized, as she finished getting changed and made her way to Tim’s office. He would make a great dad. And she thought they would make a good go of it together. It was whether that was what he wanted, whether he was 100% ready for it, that made her falter as her hand rose to knock.

She noticed the blinds were already drawn, something he usually did when she was inside. Gathering her strength, she told herself that it didn’t matter. She wanted this and she had to be honest with him.

She knocked.

Tim was at the door in a second. He pulled her in by the hand and hastily closed the door. As soon as it was, that marker of the outside world now securely gone, he cupped her head in his hand and smiled down at her.

“You okay, baby?” he asked.

The pet name almost made her threatening tears spill over. He didn’t use them often, but every now and then a babe or a baby slipped out. She loved it, a fact that he knew. But it was too much right now.

“Lucy?” She still hadn’t responded, and the worry lines grew deeper on his face.

“Maybe you should sit down?” Lucy suggested, turning from him and making her own, shaky way to his desk. She couldn’t find it in her to sit and instead gripped the back of the chair.

“Okay you’re officially freaking me out here. What’s going on?” Tim asked. He made his way round to his seat, but she noticed he didn’t sit down either.

“I um,” Lucy paused and then, summoning all the courage she had left she looked up and met his eye. “I’m pregnant.”

Tim collapsed into the seat.

Minutes passed, painfully long minutes. Tim’s hands rose to rub at his face, covering most of his reaction from view but Lucy caught a good enough glimpse to see that all color had drained from him.

Her heart plummeted.

And then he looked up, the hands came away and, was that a threat of a smile?

“I’m sorry, I just. Wow.” Tim cleared his throat and pushed himself to his feet again. He began to pace the room. “I just never expected… How far along are you?”

“A month, I think, maybe nearing two? I was late, but as you know that happens sometimes, but then I was sick this morning, so I thought I should check. Tim are you okay?”

Tim spun immediately to face her again. This time the smile was on full show. “Sorry,” he quickly apologized and in three long, fast strides he was before her, hands on her shoulders. “I’m happy Lucy. Shocked, but happy. I am on board with this one hundred percent. That is,” he paused, seeming to catch himself, “if you are?”

Lucy felt herself smiling, despite the fact her hands were still shaking. “Yes,” she breathed.

And then his lips were on hers.

They decided to wait until Lucy had been to the doctor before they told the precinct. Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long for an appointment and two weeks later they were both, this time, standing outside an office. Only this time it was Captain Grey’s. It had made sense to come clean to him first, to understand fully how the department wished to handle both Lucy’s maternity, her field work and the fact they were dating at all. Neither one of them expected Grey to have too much of a problem but there were people above him to be considered. And the rumor mill of the precinct too.

Grey called them in.

Looking up from his mountain of paperwork, he greeted them. “Sergeant Bradford oh and Officer Chen, what can I do for you?”

He looked confused, Lucy thought, but there was also something else he wasn’t fully hiding. Some other reaction to seeing them both walk into his office together.

“Sir, I just want to say that what we are about to tell you never has had, nor will ever have, any effect on how myself or Officer Chen perform our jobs. We are capable officers and I think we have both proven that.”

Grey frowned, “Out with it Bradford.”

“We’re together,” Lucy answered, “in a relationship I mean.”

It wasn’t the script they had rehearsed but the words escaped Lucy before she could hold them back.

Grey’s eyes narrowed, in a half-hearted look of anger, for all of one second before a smile broke out on his face.

“Well, I do believe I am owed at least thirty dollars.”

That wasn’t the answer they had been expecting.

“Excuse me, sir?” Tim stuttered from beside Lucy.

“You two have not been anywhere near as secretive as you thought. I didn’t think it made sense to tell you, since plausible deniability meant none of us would have deal with the consequences of this,” he gestured between them, “and I had been watching to check that it wasn’t affecting either of your performance, but I guess we will have to deal with it now. If I might ask, what changed? Why come clean now?”

Lucy swallowed, her hand rising unconsciously to her stomach. It was all the answer Grey needed.

“Ah, well,” the smile on his face impossibly grew. He rose to his feet and clapped Tim on the shoulder. “Congratulations to you both.”

Tim awkwardly cleared his throat again, but this time Lucy could see that he was positively beaming. She felt her own smile grow.

“Thank you,” she told Grey. “What happens now?”

“Well, I’ll have to let the superiors know and it might limit the work you two can do together in the future. I don’t think I have to tell you how the fact Tim was your TO might affect your career since you both had the sense to try to hide this.”

Lucy nodded, “I know, I’m ready to face it. But maybe you could let us tell some people first? West and Nolan don’t even know yet.”

“I wasn’t going to announce it at the next roll call Officer Chen,” Sergeant Grey laughed. Lucy really couldn’t be any more shocked. “It’s your news to tell. I’ll try to keep it as quiet as I can.”

Lucy parked her car outside Angela’s house. Pausing, she turned to Tim. They had a deal since they started dating that she got to drive her own car. It always felt weird seeing him the passenger side.

“Ready for this?” She asked him. They had discussed how Angela might have his head for not telling her sooner, both about them being together and the baby.

Tim nodded. Lucy could tell that he was doing his best to look grim, as though he really was daunted, but she could feel the excitement rolling off him in waves.

This was the first friend they would get to tell together. They had decided to tell Angela first, both because of Tim’s fear and because Lucy had admitted that it would be nice to get some advice before they went completely public. After all, Angela had hid her own pregnancy out of fear of the repercussions so Lucy could do with speaking to someone who understood.

Tim placed his hand on Lucy’s knee and leaned towards her.

“This isn’t going to be easy,” he whispered, “But I’ll do everything I can to make it easier for you. I know I have it easier being the man and being sergeant, but you know I’m willing to ask for a transfer if things get tough.”

Lucy smiled at him and felt her eyes water. Stupid hormones, “I know.”

With that Tim turned and opened his door, “That’s if you protect my head in there, she won’t risk throwing things at a pregnant woman. You might be my only hope of making it out alive.”

Lucy laughed and together they walked to the house.

Angela opened at their knock. She appeared in the door frame with her sleeping son Jake and a wide smile on her face.

“Tim,” she beamed at seeing him first, “And Lucy?”

Lucy smiled, “Hey Angela.”

Angela looked confused but she invited them in.

“Sorry for the mess, you wouldn’t believe what he can get into.”

Angela fluttered around trying unsuccessfully to tidy some of the debris with one hand, but Tim put a hand to her shoulder. “It’s alright, there’s no need.”

“So what brings you two here?” She asked, seeming to have given up.

“We have something to tell you,” Tim began. The excitement had faded slightly, and Lucy could tell he was getting nervous just by one glance at his clenched jaw.

Angela looked between them. “Go on.”

“We’re,” Lucy looked up at Tim and felt unable to continue.

“We’re together,” Tim announced, keeping it simple and wrapping his arm around Lucy’s waist as though to confirm it.

Angela burst out laughing.

“Seriously Bradford? You interrupt my child’s nap all so you can tell me that?”

At their obvious looks of confusion, Angela clarified, “I know. Everyone knows.”

Tim spluttered. Lucy took a step toward her, “We thought Grey was exaggerating. What do you mean everyone knows? No one’s said anything to us?”

“That’s because no one knew for sure. You think they would risk getting into trouble with a sergeant for spreading rumors? People talk, but no one was brave enough to let it get back to either of you.”

Tim sighed and Lucy felt her own wave of relief. If people knew but no one had made a deal of it, then she might just escape the stereotype and the judgement. Maybe. Then again, they were more than just hooking up.

“That’s not all we had to tell you,” Lucy continued. She had said the words twice, once to Tim and once to the doctor. It still felt unreal, but she felt herself speak them again. “I’m pregnant.”

Angela let out a whoop loud enough to wake Jake. She cursed and immediately started to rock him, gave up after ten seconds, and ran instead to pull them into a hug. “I’m so happy for you both, congratulations.”

After a few minutes of pleasantries Lucy turned to Tim. “Think you could maybe give us a minute?”

“Why don’t you take Jake out back? He’s got a thing for birds it might calm him down.” Angela suggested.

Tim looked hesitantly between them. Lucy tried to give him a reassuring smile and it must have worked for he sent his own her way and moved to pick up Jake.

The sight of them together had Lucy’s stomach fluttering, her heart pounding in her chest. Jake stopped crying as Tim cradled him and she couldn’t help but think about what a great father he would make.

“He’s going to be a great dad,” Angela said, as though reading Lucy’s mind.

“Yeah, he is,” Lucy agreed.

“You’re going to make a great mum too.”

Lucy ducked her head and resisted the urge to disagree.

“The fear is normal, it gets a bit easier. Then they are here, and it comes right back at you again,” Angela advised. “But you get through it.”

Lucy smiled, “You’ve been a great mum to Jake, I don’t know how you two did it with both your careers and everything else.”

“It hasn’t been easy, but you make it work. You don’t have much choice really. But he’s been a blessing. I remember how scared I was when I found out. It was the day after Nolan was accused. And the day I got promoted. I was so scared that I would always be seen as the pregnant detective, given the lighter case load, forever seen as the weak link. So, we hid it. And judging by the fact you’ve kept your relationship quiet this long, I’m guessing you are considering hiding it too?”

Lucy nodded, “I don’t want to be judged either. It will be hard enough when everyone finds out me and Tim are together but this-”

Angela’s smile grew, “I told you, everyone worked that out long ago. And this baby of yours could actually help matters. It shows you are serious, and the fact you are becoming a family shows that you fell in love. Tim isn’t your direct superior anymore and you got together long after he was. There’s not much they can say to that. And even if they do, you get over it. Trust me I’m dating a defense attorney, I know all about it.”

Lucy laughed at the last part, “Thank you Angela.”

“No problem, now, not that I don’t trust him, but I think we should rescue Tim. Jake can get fussy if I’m not in the room.”

They decided to tell Jackson and John next. Lucy had arranged to meet them for drinks after shift. Tim was supposed to join them, but he got a call last minute and had to work overtime. Being a sergeant on patrol had its downfalls.

So, Lucy met the boys on her own. She shouldn’t have been nervous, or awkward, after all this was how they had spent so many nights. But she found herself shuffling in her seat.

Nolan had gone to the bar just as she walked in the door, not giving her any chance to correct the drink order from her usual. At least it gave her an early way in.

“Actually,” she told him as he sat down in front of her. “I was thinking of sticking with just the pineapple juice tonight.”

Both men froze and put down their drinks. Jackson looked confused but Nolan’s eyes dropped, Lucy expected subconsciously, to her stomach.

“Yeah John,” she said, feeling a smile grow on her face at the immediate look of happiness her friend gave her.

Jackson on the other hand still looked confused.

“I’m pregnant,” she told him.

It was becoming easier to say it now. Especially since they had told her parents. Although that one had been easier since they already knew she was dating Tim, and, thankfully liked him a lot.

Both men immediately sprung to their feet to crush Lucy in a group hug, congratulating her and laughing as they did so.

“Aren’t you going to ask who the father is?” Lucy prompted when neither man had done so.

Jackson and Nolan looked at each other awkwardly as though daring the other to speak.

“Angela and Grey weren’t kidding when they said everyone knew about Tim and I were they?”

All Jackson and Nolan could do was laugh and shake their heads.

With their friends in the know, as well as their superiors, they simply stopped hiding their relationship. Surprisingly, no one had been brave enough to say much beside the odd remark, usually off shift. It hadn’t been anywhere near as bad as Lucy had expected. But when she was pulled off the street and placed on desk duty, just as she was starting to show, there was no denying the secret any longer. A handful of people had asked out front, mostly to her whilst others had asked John or Jackson. Thankfully, Angela had been right, and it hadn’t made matters worse. Instead, they received many congratulations and happy remarks.

Lucy expected some of it had to do with their history. Many officers were familiar with what had happened between Tim and Isobel, and they certainly knew about Lucy’s kidnapping. Surviving a serial killer gained her some respect and the work she had done on the streets couldn’t be denied either.

Lucy missed patrol but staying in the precinct had its perks. She no longer had to suffer Tim’s insatiable worry, or her own for that matter, and they managed to enjoy more time together. If he was in the office, they shared lunch and if he was on the streets, he brought her some between calls. They remained professional and kept a strict boundary, but they could be seen entering and leaving the building holding hands and sharing a quick kiss in goodbye if one had to leave without the other.

So, whilst Lucy was still scared at what the future would hold, her excitement far outweighed it.

She counted herself pretty damn lucky.

#the rookie #chenford #tucy #tim bradford #lucy chen

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theobsessor1 · 4 years ago

Text

A Royal Meeting

Summary: Deceit should know better, going through with another one of Remus’s ideas. He thought it would have been a one time deal, just something for them that night to experiment with his more reptilian side. But he’s starting to regret it with the growing nest of eggs, and horrible uncertainty of feelings swirling in his chest…he might be in some trouble here.

Pairings: Demus, Roceit

Warnings: fainting, self-deprecation (let me know if I need to tag anything

Word count: 2963

previous chapters ch.1, ch.2, ch.3, ch.4, ch.5 (read on ao3)

(wish to support me buy me a coffee :3)

Chapter 6 of “Say Something” series

It has been incredibly tense with the other sides...Even more so as of late with the whole wedding and call back debacle.

Everyone seems to have taken a hit with that one. Thomas had gone to a wedding he never wanted to go to in the first place instead of going to that great opportunity for something he enjoyed.

Not to mention the whole LilyPadton incident, poor Patton. He’s in good hands though, he’s sure the others can help him with his newfound animal oddities that are surely to come from the incident…

Even so, it all could have gone so much better, then he so stupidly revealed his name to them all and got attacked. It needed to be done. Needed their trust...but it still hurt.

It’s terrifying being vulnerable like that.

But that brings up the question...Why the hell was Remus dragging him towards his brother’s side of the imagination.

“Remus, not that I don’t love your spontaneous ideas, but could I please go back to not sulking with Emile and Remy?”

Remus huffs and holds tighter to Janus’s hand, making sure the slippery snake doesn’t slip from his grasp. “No, you can not.”

Janus sighs and nods, letting Remus continue to drag him away. It was hard to tell if Remus was upset with him. His usual tell being well hidden as the side stares straight ahead, uncharacteristically quiet.

That was his only hint that something was bothering Remus as the duke refused to speak to him, save for the time he really had to...Which really wasn’t much.

He stays silent as Remus drags him to the edge. Roman in clear view with his arms crossed and looking to the side all broodily. He doesn’t seem to be happy about this either.

Janus won’t admit to it but he’d tried to subtly hide behind Remus once they arrived at the border. Watching Roman unhappily look at them.

“Are you going to tell me why you’ve demanded to meet now? And why you brought him with you.” Roman glares at Janus before looking back at his brother. Remus huffs and drags the snake side out in front of him. “I’m not talking to either of you until you get your shit together. Go do your little secret walk around the castle or something, anything! Don’t want to see either of you until your friends again.”

“What? I- Remus please, I understand what you’re trying to do but this won’t help.” Janus runs a hand down his face with a sigh. “It’s very sweet of you to try this dear but...I don’t think this is the best idea.”

Roman nods wrinkling his nose at Janus “Yeah, Re, sorry to burst your bubble but this ain’t happening.” the princely side turns to leave but he doesn’t get far as his brother takes his wrist in a vice-like grip.

“NO, waLK AnD TaLK noW!” Remus growls glaring at his brother. “I don’t care about the petty things either of you did, but you are making up and being friends again.”

Roman flinches but holds his ground, glaring back at the duke. He eventually gives in once it's clear his brother is not going to back down anytime soon. With a sigh, he bows his head and looks away “Fine...I will try.”

Remus lets him go with a bounce and a smile back on his face that doesn’t quite meet the eyes. “Great! Have fun!” He gives the two a wave before bowing and sinking out leaving the two sides awkwardly standing there with each other.

The two avoid looking at one another as Janus steps over to Roman’s side of the imagination, the creative side stiffly turning to leave and head back to his kingdom.

The imagination is usually a very lively-looking place, even when on Remus’s side, but...today it seems far from it. The sky is overcast in dark dreary clouds, with the occasionally chilling breeze that makes the sudden low temperature almost worse. Everything appears almost washed of its color with this desolate frost over most things.

Rather unusual for it all to look so gloomy.

Janus can’t help sighing as he follows after the prince a few feet behind, pulling his capulet a little tighter around himself...this...is going to be a long day.

Out of everyone, he’s screwed up with Roman the most, something that’s very evident with how the prince has changed his attitude towards him. From warm confused delight to cold and with clear disdain. He’s sure Remus has only good intentions with this plan of forcing them to talk but...He’s not sure how well that’s going to work out in this situation.

Roman doesn’t seem keen on talking and well Janus isn’t sure the prince would take too kindly if he tried speaking to the side. So he just silently follows, hands folded nervously behind as they travel into Roman’s kingdom.

It is...Strange to see the royal side so quiet like this, his shoulders tense as he forces himself to keep his back straight and walk on. Exchanging a soft word or two with the few imagination’s citizens that are around as they pass, a...almost forced smile taking up his expression whenever he catches a glance from a citizen.

The citizens ignore Janus for the most part, sparing him a simple glance before continuing on.

He supposes they would reflect Roman’s feelings towards him since this is his part of the realm after all. Or maybe they too were uncomfortable with his scaled half, seeing him as some villain following their hero.

“...I don’t hate you, you know.”

Janus lifts a brow glancing up at Roman whom he inadvertently moved closer to as he stopped in his tracks...there’s no lie...or at least not a strong one. “I hope you know you can’t lie to me,” he warns, giving a flick of his tongue for emphasis.

Roman gives a frustrated sigh, a hand running through his usually perfectly kept hair...now that he’s actually looking, Janus can’t help noticing how the side's appearance is worn...like he’s been battered around too many times.

“I...I’m not lying, I...I really don’t hate you. Or at least don’t want to! I’m...I just...I…” the prince makes another frustrated sound.

Janus stays silent, allowing for Roman to gather his words and watch as the prince’s shoulders fall with a storm of emotions swirling in his green eyes.

Roman sighs again and waves for Janus to follow as he begins walking down the cobbled paths again. The two walking side by side in silence.

It’s eerie to see this side of the imagination almost barren. The closer they move to the center of the kingdom with its large fountain the fewer of the inhabitants they see...Janus takes note of it all ...the changes, all of it reflecting Roman's mood whether the side was doing it on purpose or subconsciously. It’s a helpful clue into how the side is feeling while he’s at a loss for words.

Janus watches Roman closely as they walk, and can tell he’s struggling with himself. Inturn he doesn’t want to stay out here, he can feel the cold slowly getting to him, his joints growing a little stiff. The thought of offering to pretend they had a conversation and the two of them just leaving is tempting but...they really do need to talk this out.

He will just have to stick it out and...offer his hand first...somehow.

“...Roman...you know our little...act we do for the cameras?”

Roman perks up hearing this and squints at Janus unsure “...Yeah? What about it?”

“Well...if...you...if you want we could...how you say...continue our act?” Janus tries for a nonchalant shrug and glances away to hide a shiver. “We are both men of theater are we not? And I do enjoy playing as a villain...of sorts. We don’t have to stop our show just because the script has been somewhat changed.”

Roman hums brows furrowing as they come to a stop in front of the marble fountain and he stares down at his reflection...Contemplating.

Janus tries to ignore how he stumbles, how things almost sway in his vision and clenches his teeth as he forces himself to stay upright. Roman surely wouldn’t let him freeze, and it’s only chilly. He can handle being out here.

He can’t leave, not yet, not when he’s this close.

“...If they...If the others are accepting you then you won’t be a villain anymore...there is no act to continue.” Roman states, finally looking to Janus.

Janus shakes his head “Roman...It’s...I may no longer be a villain off stage but I can still be onstage...an-an act for the cameras, for the videos but…” he tries to hide the shiver at the sudden breeze. “B-but we don’t have to be putting up that act while the cameras are off when we aren't filming. We can get along.” Surely it hadn’t been this cold earlier? He’s been out here too long.

Roman opens his mouth to respond, still seeming a bit confused if the furrow of his brow was anything to go by but…he pauses frowning almost worriedly at the snake side “Deceit are you alright? You’re shaki-Janus!!”

The snake side can’t respond when the ground is suddenly flying towards his face, his left side feeling almost heavy and useless.

Thankfully Roman managed to catch him right before he hits the stones.

Roman is immediately fretting over him, pulling the scales side close into his arms “Janus! What’s wrong?!”

Janus bites back an angry hiss shuddering and can’t stop from trying to curl up against Roman’s chest as the side holds him “I-it’s cold, I-I’m part snake, think you can f-figure it out.”

Roman’s eyes widen “Oh my-Why didn’t you say anything sooner!! You know I’m an idiot I-I wouldn’t realize-I- oh I’ll fix this. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” he waves a hand shifting Janus’s capulet into a furred cloak and makes sure the side is properly wrapped up before he stands with him in his arms.

Janus does hiss this time at the side's words and wriggles an arm out, lightly papping Roman’s cheek. “Bad.”

That’s the last thing he has the strength for before he’s losing consciousness as his body starts shutting down.

Roman makes a worried noise quickly sinking himself out to his bedroom and setting the snake side carefully on the bed, shifting the blankets to be thicker. Tucking the side in and watching his chest weakly rise and fall.

He bites at his lip and starts pacing at the foot of the bed, hoping that it’s enough to help the cold-blooded side.

Roughly half an hour goes by before Janus starts to stir, warm and curled up in blankets as he wakes, blinking away the heavy drowsiness from his eyes. He peeks out of the blankets to get his bearings and find where Roman’s gone too. Such an annoyance it is for him to drop into a small comma when he gets cold. Honestly.

It doesn’t take much looking to realize he’s in the prince’s room and the royal side very determined to create a rut in the floor with his pacing and yanking at his hair.

He sits up further furrowing his brows “...Roman?”

Roman doesn’t respond, continuing to pace and mumble under his breath. Janus is almost surprised Virgil hasn’t come yet to figure out where all that anxious energy is coming from.

Janus furrows his brows further and shakily climbs out from under the blankets, his legs like jelly as he carefully walks himself over to Roman, thankful for the fur cloak still around his shoulders. “Roman?”

Roman jumps with a startled shout and spinning around to look at Janus. He blushes a little and steps back, clearing his throat before he speaks. “A-ah...I didn’t realize you were awake…”

Janus hums “I could tell...are you alright?”

“A-am I-! I should be asking you that! You just collapsed!” Roman exclaims while quickly pushing Janus back over to the bed and trying to tuck him under the blankets. “You should be resting! I-you should have told me that it was too cold for you!”

Oh yes, let him tell the very side that was angry at him that he was cold. That would have gone wonderfully.

Janus huffs swatting away Roman’s hands, he doesn’t need all the fussing about! “I’m fine, I thought our conversation was more pertinent...And you were upset with me, I wouldn’t want to tell you of my discomforts.”

Roman shakes his head “No-no it wasn’t! You could have gotten hurt if I didn’t catch you or-or sick from being out there. I should have realized-I-I’m sorry!” he uses a hand to yank at his hair, a similar distressed sign that Remus tends to do “Just another stupid thing I’ve done! I should have know-” he cuts himself off when Janus paps his cheek softly

“Shoosh, none of that, this apologizing won’t get you anywhere, you didn’t know, I didn’t tell you, you didn’t notice, but you took care of me after. That’s what matters Roman.”

The princely side shakes his head moving away from Janus’s hand “It’s another mistake to add to the list of many I make, I can’t seem to do anything right as of late.-”

“Ro-”

“I’m serious! It’s just mistake after mistake with everything I do nowadays! I’m no good! I sent Thomas to a wedding none of us wanted to go to, I-I have insulted Logan to the point of him pushing away from us, made fun of you when you revealed your name, was a jerk to the other more times than I can count, tried to force my own dreams on Thomas just because I wanted him to live the great theatrical life of an actor! And now I haven’t even been able to provide him with one good idea! I just desperately tried to follow along with everyone else hoping it would be enough but it only led to hurting Thomas, I’ve just caused more problems than even my own brother!”

He pauses solemnly staring down to the ground “...Maybe you were right to compare us.”

Janus bites his lip looking over the defeated side’s face, “Roman...I-I should never have compared you. It was not fair to either of you even if you had tried attacking me while I was vulnerable. We were all hurting.” He scoots closer to Roman, very softly putting a hand under the sides chin to make the other look into his eyes “Everyone makes mistakes, trust me I’ve made my fair share long ago too...I-...You can’t blame all of this on yourself. You’re not the only one that should be held accountable for anything that’s happened.” He drops his hand to pull Roman close and rub circles into the prince’s back, the two clinging together in a form of a hug.

“Yes you’ve hurt Logan with your insults but you know that they hurt, so you know to stop. You tried pushing Thomas into a life he couldn’t have but you learned and have adapted. Smaller goals that are more attainable...You are learning just as he and the rest of us learn. You don’t have to be perfect, Roman...Being perfect is a fruitless goal…”

Janus feels Roman’s grip on him tighten and the first shudder runs through the princely side before he hears the small sob “It’s going to be ok, I’ve got you, hun.” He tightens his hold around the prince, rubbing circles once more into the sides back. “...I’ve got you.”

It takes some time to calm the creative side back down. Having to gently shoosh him every time he starts apologizing or mumbling some self-deprecating thoughts again. Slowly but surely easing the princely side until he runs out of tears as the two sit together in one another's arms.

Janus idly runs a hand through Roman’s hair, having been absentmindedly humming a tune he can’t recall where from.

“...Thank you.”

Janus pauses, looking down at Roman with a partially raised brow. “...What for?”

“...For this, I suppose.”

Janus hums, going back to running a hand through the sides hair “I would thank your brother, he’s the one that forced us to talk...are you feeling better?” He carefully pulls Roman closer, adjusting themselves so they could lay back against the way too many pillows in the bed and get Roman comfortably partly under the blankets with him.

Roman nods ducking his head to hide in Janus’s shoulder clearly drained from his good cry.

The two silently enjoy cuddling together, taking in each other’s warmth and comforting presence.

There is one thing they haven't addressed yet that should also be talked about.

“...You know...My flirting wasn’t all a lie.” Janus speaks up moments later, twirling a strand of Roman’s hair.

Roman looks up at him with a hum, eyes drooping just a tad, getting sleepy no doubt.

“I was yes being playful and trying to win you over to my decisions...but...I was also flirting to flirt.” wow...that really clears things up, doesn’t it.

Roman stares up at him with his sleepy eyes, quiet for far too long for Janus’s liking.

He opens his mouth to better explain only to make a startled hiss as the sides of his face are suddenly grabbed, soft lips pressing against his, tasting of vanilla and peaches.

He blinks as Roman’s face comes back into view as the prince pulls back, blushing and looking embarrassed.

Janus can’t help smile and dive back in for more.

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Taglist:

@max-the-quack @legendsgates @enby-phoenix @ab-artist @the-great-fennec-fox-of-whatever @bluerosesbleedred

#egg fic #Say Something #writing is hard #remus sanders #Janus Sanders #deceit sanders #roman sanders #Demus #roceit #sander sides au #sander sides

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a-crash-in-time-collection · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 1: The Crash

She was floating in space. Only it didn't seem like normal space, which she knew all about. It seemed to shine with different colors. She couldn't move much, it was almost as if she was forced into her current position. Voices of old filled her head. Voices she wanted to remember. Voices she never wants to forget. But at the same time, the voices brought back memories of a different time. A different time...

"Us kids should stick together, not stalk one another. I mean, Mafia Town can be a really dangerous place" "If you want it, we'll have to settle it in true Mafia style!" "You Moon Penguins are just gonna write some loud, noisy drivel!" "This last time piece is all for me, darling." "Your contract has expired, sleep now in the fire!" "And do it quickly pup."

Her face formed a smile, before tears started to fall. Wait... why was she...

"Don't leave us!" "Hey kiddo, let's make another contract!" "Don't you dare leave, lass!" "Let's watch our movie, darling!"

That's why... she couldn't have just stayed. She at least needed to try and get home. And her kind weren't keen on creatures from other planets... who knows what would have happened to them? But with the end result, did it even matter-

A large ringing brought her out of the space-like place, finding herself sitting on the soft surface of her bed. Glancing around as she stopped the ringing of the clock, everything was in place. Her relics on their podiums, toys she made based on her time on that planet on the shelves in her room. Most of her badges she bought from the strange badge guy on a pin board beside her bed. Her umbrella was next to her dresser with the mirror.

A glance out the nearby window showed the mostly green and blue planet. It reminded her a lot of the planet that she could now only visit in her dreams. Unlike that planet, there was little if any magic. Talking animal creatures were only heard of in movies. Ghosts were just tall tales. So similar, yet different at the same time...

She got up, yawning as she stretched and walked over to her closet. Opening it, she grabbed a purple blazer and yellow scarf. She paused, looking at them both slightly. The blazer was taller than she used to be, when she first found herself crashed on the planet...

She remembered checking the vault as she passed by, only one time piece was left. She knew that wouldn't be enough to make it home, and she didn't know if she would pass another planet she could survive on in between them. So she grabbed it, and braced for impact. The ship crashed on 'Earth' in the middle of the night, and looking back on it now, she was lucky no big place caught sight of her. She remembered bleeding, maybe having a broken or fractured bone with the sharp pain coming from the left side of her body. She found herself being too hurt to move on her own right away... it was possible that she would have died...

But then two people entered her vision as she picked herself up. Both wore hats like she did, one of them actually had two. Apparently the two hat man, Reginald, had seen the ship pass in front of his airship while it fell from the sky. The two were naturally confused on why she was there, and concerned if she was alright. She remembered them offering to take her to the airship's medbay, but she was more worried about her relics, which were not the only things she had of her time with her old friends. The one with his orange hair in a ponytail that hung over his shoulder, who called himself 'Right Hand Man', offered to do it for her. However, she took liberty and carried them all herself to the airship. Needless to say, the two were surprised by the child's strength.

She now called these two 'Dad' and 'Papa', and they called her their daughter.

She allowed herself to exit her thoughts as she pulled her brown shoes over her purple socks and pants, standing up and walking over to the door of her room. It was a new day.

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up." An energetic voice spoke as soon as she opened the door. She was met with a more-humanoid Topbot, with a face that smiled at her, and silver hair that helped make them seem more like a teenager. He wore a blue and orange jacket, with the faintest hint of a green shirt being seen, and dark dull indigo pants that ended in his metal shoes that were literally his feet.

A few years ago, Hat Girl had found herself more lonely. Her dads, while they made time for her, were often busy at work. Most of the younger kids aboard the airship didn't let her play too often, and the teenagers were often on training missions or just plain avoided her. In an attempt to give her someone to hang out with, Reginald took aside a random Topbot, redesign and reprogrammed it to act as a brother to Hat Girl. He spent so long and hard on it that it felt like part of his soul belong to the machine in the end. Which could possibly explained how Platinum wasn't just following an interactive script, but was fully self aware and alive. He did have a small panic attack at first due to the sudden self awareness, but soon after he was able to cause trouble with Hat Kid.

"You ready for today, brother of mine?" Hat Girl asked, a smile forming on her face.

"Uhh, yeah." He said, a smirk forming on his face as well.

"Good, we can get started on our prank plans after breakfast." She stated, passing him and walking down the hall, humming a slight tune as she glanced out at the seemingly-night sky.

"Aww, come on!" Platinum said, racing next to her quickly, rolling his bright orange eyes. "You always have to eat before we can have fun. I don't see what the big deal is."

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Brother." She said, sticking her tongue out playfully. She never fully grew out of her childish phase. "I pity you sometimes, food is great and you're unable to experience it."

"Please. I got my Tanks and Family, that's all I need." Platinum replied, rolling his eyes as the two walked into the cafeteria area, which was currently a bit busy as you would expect from it early in the morning. "I honestly don't see why your body decides you need food. Just seems inconvenient in my option."

Hat Girl shook her head slightly with a chuckle as she walked over to the sideboard, where Burt and Fredrick were talking.

"I'm starting to get concerned over your coffee obsession, Burt." The Cheese wearing Toppat said, arms crossed as he glared at the man in front of him. The man always sounded like his throat was sore, at least to Hat Girl it did. She remembered questioning if he was alright when they first met.

"Coffee is nice, Fredrick." Burt said, the dyed orange part of his black hair covering one of his eyes, as per the usual. He always seemed to act like he had no emotions, and spent most of his days in his office or grabbing himself the drink that was currently the topic of their talk. "The fact that you never tried coffee worries me."

"I'm more of a Hot chocolate person, and besides, the smell alone is enough to turn me off." Fredrick stated, grabbing the lake of floating marshmallows in a cup along with the plate of 'Bacon, Egg, & Cheese Breakfast Bombs' he liked. "But I know all that coffee isn't healthy for you, I swear you drink more coffee then you eat actual food."

Burt rolled his eyes at the statement, before glancing around the area as he grabbed his coffee and toast. "Fine. I'll eat a little more today." With that, temporarily balancing his plate on his other arm, he grabbed one of the muffin-like items off Fredrick's plate and walked away.

Fredrick was frozen in shock for a few seconds, before huffing and glancing to the side. It was only then he realized the children of the leaders. "Oh, sorry you two, I didn't see you there. Off going to cause some trouble later I assume?"

"Possibly, possibly not." Platinum shrugged as Hat Girl chuckled, before giving her breakfast request to the cook-toppat that came by.

"I'll be taking that as a yes." Fredrick said, shaking his head. "Just uhh, do me a favor and don't go on a spree of spray-painting the inside of the vents, again. Took me and Sammy nearly the whole day to clean it last time."

"Alright, no spray paint in vents..." Platinum said, raising his arms in front of him slightly in defeat. He watched as Frederick left, before turning to his sister. "Want to finally see how many people we can surprise with airhorns tape to their chairs and doors?"

"Oh heck yeah!" Hat Girl said, giving her brother a thumbs up. And the Toppats that heard her shout began to feel a faint feeling of fear among them. They knew then that chaos caused by those two would come later that day.

-------

What they didn't know was on earth, a conversation was happening. About the true chaos.

"You sure this is... safe?" One government person asked another as they glanced at the cannon. Although cannon felt like an understatement. The place where the 'cannonball' would come out of look like it itself was 27 miles long. "For Earth I mean."

"Should be." The other replied, hoping away from the gears they were adjusting. "The material should begin to burn up after it makes contact with the toppat orbital station. The worst we should have to deal with are burning pieces of metal and stuff falling down to earth in the size of normal meteoroids."

"Am I the only one who feels this is a bit... extreme?" The first asked as they hop into the tunnel to the underground control system of the cannon. "I understand they've been a pain to deal with since they got up, but can't we just set up traps for them on earth."

"It's not just about the Toppats alone." The second stated as they followed the first, wanting to be as far away from the cannon before it blew its canon ball. "If other criminal organizations see what the clan has done, they'll likely follow in suit. Soon all crime might be unstoppable because those who caused it are up in space. Is that the world you want to live in?"

"No."

"Then we need to make a statement. And this is the only way. Now let's get to the control room, and get this party started..."

-------

Hat Girl had found herself staring out the cafeteria window as she finished her plate of breakfast, slightly blocking out what Platinum was talking about as he sat in front of her. This was a bit normal for the two, half the time they were inseparable during the day. Especially since the incident where Dad was captured, and Papa had to be turned into a cyborg to live. It was a bit of a struggle for the clan then, and even with Dad back it was a lot of work to make up all the money that had been stolen the night before they were meant to launch their station-

Her train of thought stopped as she faintly spotted something outside the window. She got off her seat and walked over to the window, placing her hand on it faintly as she glanced down at the planet they raided. There was some sort of... gray and slightly green ball thing. At first it was just a speck of dust, but it was getting bigger.. and bigger... it was coming to them, faster and faster.

"Hattie?" Platinum questioned, walking up next to his sister in confusion. "What's going on, you don't just leave a plate of food alone suddenly like that." She was a bit wordless at first, but managed to point to the strange thing. Platinum had to squint his eyes to see it. "That's... just a space rock."

"Coming FROM Earth?" Hat Girl asked, looking at her brother. "As a former space traveler, I have NEVER seen that happen, and I know that's not a normal occurrence for this planet. And not to mention it's perfectly... in the path of.. hitting... Get Dad and Papa and warn them, NOW!"

"Time to act serious for once then." The topbot said, quickly racing away from his sister and the group of toppats.

She glanced at the ball again, seeing it was getting closer and larger with each passing second. She found herself frozen like the poor souls in Vanessa's Manor, or the times she used her ice hat years ago. What was she going to do?

"Dad, Pops!" Platinum called as he reached the Cockpit of the rocket, taking an unneeded breath as he reached the door.

"Platinum?" Reginald asked, turning away from his cyborg husband as he glanced at his Robotic son. "What's going-"

"We need to move, or use Supreme Dominance." Platinum cut him off, with worry in fear shining in his orange eyes. "Now-"

At the very seconds, the 'cannonball' of metal and small bits of trash collided with the orbital station, hitting the middle of the rocket.

Hat Girl fell to her feet as the station twisted and chaos fell around her. Everything outside the window became a blur, as Toppats screamed in panic. She suddenly found her grip from the wall she'd grabbed onto slip, and she was slammed against another wall. Everything went black to her after that.

-------

It took a bit for her mind to process things as she awake, her body aching in places like she had a faint sunburn. She slowly opened her eyes with a groan, scanning the mix of dark and light. She appeared to be where the window of the cafeteria once was. Keyword there being once was because now it was a pile of glass on the grass below her. Some of the glass were close to her arms, and likely was responsible for the small cuts she saw on them. She glanced around as much as she could without getting up.

Chaos was the best word that could describe the current state of the station. Well, other then 'destroyed'. Parts of the orbital station the Toppats called home where broken and scattered across what she could only assume was a forest clearing. The earth was dragged up from a few parts finding themselves lodge into it. She was able to see a few Toppat members getting up or helping others up, while trying to take in what had just happened. Not like she could blame them, she knew exactly what happened, but was still trying to process it herself.

Their home was attacked, and was sent far from earth. Yet, judging by the fact none of them were suffocating, it meant this planet had oxygen or some other air humans could breathe in. Which made sense, they did land in a forest. But that meant they were out of the solar system...

Her train of thought was cut off by a sliver of a blur that entered her field of vision. At first she was a bit spooked out, until her vision adjusted, and she saw the familiar metal hand, only with a few faints scratches. She took the cold hand, although by now she was used to the chill, as Platinum helped her to her feet. "You ok, sis?"

"Y-Yeah." She said, letting go of his hand as she rubbed her arms slightly. She picked up her nearby fallen top hat, and made sure to check the side. She sighed in relief as her hand made badge, one that had the hats of her fathers on it, was still there, and placed that hat back on her head. "Some shards of glass cut me a bit when the window broke."

"Well... considering what just happened, it could have been a lot worse." Platinum looked around. "This is all so unreal..."

"Yeah..." She slowly walked past her brother as she glanced up at the sky, then around at all the greenery around them. Why... was she feeling like she had been here before? Her mind told her it was simply because it looked like earth, but her heart was insisting it was something more.

"Oi. Are ya ok, Reg?" Right Hand Man asked, as he helped the Chief onto his feet, worry in his human and robotic eyes.

"I'm fine. But... the others..." Reginald coughed slightly, before looking around the crash site, as much as he could without moving from his spot anyway.

As the leader of the Toppats, one skill he gained over the years was being somewhat-able to get a rough estimation of how many clan members were in his sight. And after seeing at least 100 Toppats in his vision, he knew others were likely on the other side of the rocket. Assuming at least 88 toppats were on that other side, it meant that a few were still stuck inside, likely injured or, worryingly, dead. Not to mention the children...

"Right Hand Man! Check the rumble for any trapped members!" He ordered, his voice and tone clear that there was no time to waste. He was still not fully used to his lover's cybernetics, watching his legs turn into a booster as he flew into one of the openings near the top. But he loved him all the same. He glanced at a nearby group of Toppats. "See if you can find anything from Medbay, and get it setup for any injured members!" The toppats seemed to be slightly surprised by his tone, but they quickly got to work, scanning the nearby areas.

"Sir." A voice appeared behind him. He turned around to see a man in a black jacket with his white shirt visible. "I know you likely don't want anyone else going into the wreckage, but-"

"Yes Quincy, go find the kids. Just be careful." Reginald answered, the fellow father wasting no time to do so in response, likely worried for his own daughter. The kids were in a pod similar to the leader's pod, it was one of the first things Reginald planned out when he made the blueprints. They would spend most of their days in there, it was the safest for them, especially if the place was to below up, they would already be in a pod and on their way to earth.

Hat Girl found herself walking near the nearby Woodline. That's when she noticed the traces of purple deeper down, and found herself frozen in realization.

Reginald noticed his daughter near the Woodline, and walked up to her. "Are you alright, Hattie?"

"I recognized this place." She said, looking at him. "I been here before."

Reginald's brown and blue eyes showed sudden confusion, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. "You... what?"

"This was the planet I was on before I crashed onto earth." She responded. She then pointed out where the green of life and calmness turned into the creepy purple and black of dread and the unknown to all but her. "That ghost who's song Papa sings lives there."

"Really, the one with that Mafia, one of which went into space to try and get a toll from you?" Reginald question. He never thought his daughter was lying about the planet, but he figured he never find himself on said planet so he mostly just consider it stories.

"Yeah!" She exclaimed, childlike joy in her voice. She never really outgrew her childish side.

"Well... I suppose that means there's a town nearby, at least We should be able to get resources there." Reginald sighed, turning over his shoulder as Right Hand Man landed behind him. A look over the cyborg's shoulder showed some toppats in a little medbay-like area, some medically skilled Toppats using their skills to help the more injured Toppats, the 3rd in command Sven among them. He looked back at his partner in crime. "Was that everyone... alive in the rumble."

"Got everyone t'at was in t'e rubble." Right Hand Man stated. "Surprisingly, everyone lived."

Reginald was a bit surprised at this, but a smile formed on his face. "That's very relieving."

"So... what's the plan Dad?" Platinum asked, glancing at the Toppat leader slightly. "We can't just stay here with no place to rest, or prepare food." He paused for a second. "Well, you guys can't, at least."

Reginald brought his hand to his chin in thought, before dropping it and walking up a nearby rock. He cleared his throat, before calling out. "Can I have everyone's attention!?"

The clan members stopped whatever they were doing, except the few tending to the hurt Toppats, but he knew they were listening as well.

He took a breath before speaking. "As your Leader, I would be lying to you all if I were to claim I knew how to fix this, or the exact steps we should take next. We are the first of our kind to find ourselves stranded on a planet that can maintain life. But we cannot let this disturb us. It may be a long while, but I promise you, we will find our way home. But for now, survival is our goal, to watch after one-another, as clan and family." He paused briefly as he glanced at them all, lost souls unsure of what to do, before resuming. "Those of you who are well enough, see if you can move the walls detached from the station in order to make a temporary form of shelter. We do not know when a storm will come by, if this planet has storms at all. Look for supplies that fallen outside of the ship, only go in to retrieve items that are necessary for our survival. Go along the Woodline and look for wood for a fire. And trust in one another." With that, he backed up from his position on the rock.

Platinum watched as the clan members took a few seconds to process the orders, and the fact they were on another planet, before most started to look around. He spotted Burt and Fredrick walking up to a broken piece of wall, and seemed to start debating where the best place would go to serve as shelter. He saw Calla Fox, the one who stole the Ruby alongside Sven, slowly walk away from the Swedish man to help others look for supplies. He found himself glancing to where the purple part of the woods were hidden, his curiosity growing.

Reginald began to walk over to the wreckage that a few hours ago was the base of operations for the Toppat clan. "Hopefully we stolen enough we can sell in order to pay for what we need to fix the station..." He placed his head in his hands. "It's going to be so expensive..." He let out a muffle shout, not wishing to distract his clan members.

"Still t'ink ya s'ould 'ave let me 'unt after t'at pink-'aired government-kissin' t'ief." Right Hand Man grumbled, glancing at him. "Especially since we lost two members t'anks ta 'im."

Hat Girl watched her dads walked closer to the broken station, and went to follow them to help, before feeling a chilly hand grabbed her hand. "You said one of your friends lived in the creepy woods, right?"

She turned to look behind her, taking a second to glance at where the woods were before returning to her brother. "Yeah."

"And the creepy woods is in the direction of that purple stuff, riiiight?" Platinum voice showed intent, and seems to show he already knew the answer.

"Yea, The forest is kinda pretty in it's own way though, if memory serves me right-" She suddenly looked at him, processing the grin that appeared on his face. In response, she gave her own smart smirk. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"We sneak away from the clan while they take care of the crash rocket mess and chill with your old pals?"

"YES!" She said, high fiving her brother as she bounced in the air slightly. "I been wanting to see them all again, but never thought I actually could until now! I just... hope they aren't still mad at me for sweeping them off of my spaceship."

"Come on, with your cute face as a child, and you still a bit childish face now?" Platinum asked, warping an arm around her shoulder. "They'll forgive you in a heartbeat."

She nodded, a smile on her face as removed her brother's arm around her shoulder. "Catch me if you can then, brother." She said, sticking out her tongue with a 'bleeh" and raced into the woods. She heard a shout from her brother, something about 'cheating' by 'not telling him' and heard his metal feet click ageist the ground to catch up to her. She let out a giggle before shouting once they were a safe distance away from the clan. "Snatcher, here we come!"

#a hat in time #the henry stickmin collection #crossover #ahit fanfic #thsc fanfic #fanfiction #hat kid #hat girl #topbot #henry stickmin oc #reginald copperbottom #right hand man #copperright #fredrick muenster #burt curtis #sven svensson #quincy tattlemuffin

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drreidfics · 4 years ago

Text

Dr. Reid and the Broken Girl pt1.

DR. REID AND THE BROKEN GIRL (Working Title)

Characters : SpencerReid x FemReader

Warnings : Abuse, Hints of Self Harm.

CAUTION // TW // THIS BOOK DEALS WITH MATURE CONTENT SUCH AS PROFESSOR AND STUDENT RELATIONSHIP, SEXUAL ASSULT, SELF HARM, MENTAL ILLNESS AND SUBSTANCE ABUSE. IT ALSO INCLUDES A LOT OF RATED-R MATERIAL. IF THIS IS TRIGGERING OR MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE THEN PLEASE DON’T READ.

Here I am again, on the floor, begging him to stop. There he is again, laughing at my pleas and forcing himself inside of me. Almost every night he climbs into my bed, then in the morning, he pretends everything is normal. When anyone is around, he acts charming. He is able to trick everyone into thinking everything is fine. Well, it's not.

My phone buzzed to life at the side of me. The alarm was going off but I had been up for hours, staring at the flecks of dust dancing around the air. The sunlight streamed in through my thin, white drapes. It was beautiful out. It was the middle of May and bound to be hot out in Arizona. I could feel the warmth on my skin already. I needed to shower and get all this sticky sweat off my skin. It wasn't even mine. I felt disgusting. His touch lingered everywhere on me. The bruises he gave me stained my skin more than the self inflicted cuts.

'Morning Ms. y/l/n. Last night was lovely. See you at lunch?'. It was a text from Mr Reid. He was my psychology professor. Older than me, at thirty, he had long dark hair and deep brown eyes. His hair curled slightly at the end. He was tall and slim. Smart and nerdy, having two degrees and a doctorate, he left his job at the FBI for something less mentally draining. He had worked there since he was twenty-two. I was twenty-one making our age gap quite small. Look at me, trying to convince myself that it even mattered. He was a lovely guy. Friendly, and handsome. He wouldn't fall in love with a student, and if he did, that student would never be me. He was too smart for that.

"Morning Dr. Reid. Thank-you for taking me. It was a fun eve! Yes, see you at lunch. We can have a chat about the stuff we saw yesterday =)". I read the message over and over again before hitting send. I was nervous as I usually always say stupid things. My low self esteem affected me very much. I was twenty-one, already with one degree and going back to do another. I was still living at Sharon's and I haven't had a boyfriend. He texted me back instantly.

"Can't wait! Need a lift to school? =)" I smiled down at my battered iPhone 6. I couldn't afford a brand new phone. I was lucky in that I only had to work a few hours a week at the local book store and that it was something I enjoyed doing. Sharon was good to me. She helped me pay for and make my way through college. I don't know what or where I would be without her. On the other hand, she brought the human spawn of the devil into my life.

"No thnx, Luna is picking me up =)" I sent but then instantly regretted it. I love my best friend but I would have preferred a ride with Dr. Reid. Our conversations were always interesting and insightful. We could talk about a wide range of subjects for hours and it would only feel like minutes passed.

"Ok, see u soon Y/N"

I smiled, almost forgetting my problems before catching glimpse of myself in the mirror. My fragile, battered body stared back. I sighed. He could never find a girl like me attractive. Not that it mattered anyway. Silly little girl crush.

After debating whether it was best to just find the nearest bridge in town and throw my self off or get ready for school (I am very mentally unwell), I decided on the latter. Luna had already texted me to inform me that she was about to set off. Knowing Luna, which I have had the pleasure of knowing for fifteen years (no sarcasm in there), ten minutes would be ten years.

I staggered down the dreaded stairs, almost losing my footing a few times, feeling light headed. I entered the brightly lit kitchen. It was so bright that I could feel an aching behind my eyes. The decor was simplistic, all white with gold features. Classic business mom who is never home asthetic going on.

Sharon sat at the island, face absorbed in her laptop. She was in her late forties with short, mousey hair. I believe she would be referred to as a 'Karen'. She looked nothing like Dom. She was short, like me, and fairly slim. He was tall and muscular with broad shoulders. Quarterback star player with the strength to show for it. He could snap us both in half. Dominic is Sharon's only child. Yes, that is correct. She is not my mum. I lost her.

Sharon looked up at me, flashing me a warm smile, still bashing the keys to her MacBook. She took a sip of her black coffee, nibbling on some cold toast. "You look like shit" she stated; matter of factly, her face blank. '"Thanks?'" I answered with a raised eyebrow. I walked over to the coffee machine and put in a pod, sticking my travel cup underneath. 77Kcals of goodness. All the fuel I will need this morning. "Sweetheart, don't act like that. You know I'm just saying. You need to sleep more" '"I know" I sighed. It was true... "But that makes two of us" I retorted cheekily with a grin. "Oh sweetheart, don't I know it" she raised her cup as if toasting the comment before gulping the last bit of coffee.

Sharon was my guardian, though not anymore as I was an adult and of drinking age. She still cared for me though as if I were her own. My mom died when I was seven and my dad had a breakdown. He couldn't cope. One day I came home from school and he was gone. He didn't say a word to anyone. He packed up his stuff and left me. I hated him for a while. The anger within me burned to my core. After a while I felt sympathy. He didn't get the help that he needed. If he did then we both wouldn't be in this mess. We'd be happy - together. I doubt he would know how to contact me now.

Aunt Sharon took me in. She wasn't really my aunt, she was my mom's best friend. She was the only connection to my mother that I had left besides her wedding ring. She loved her dearly and I believe she loves me dearly too. It's not her fault she can't protect me. She works herself to death trying to help me live my dreams. Dom wasn't the child that she had always wanted. He is doing nothing with his life. That is something I will alway's respect of her, single mom raising her child and somebody else's.

I loved her, though she did have the tendency to dish out tough love which often was way - way too harsh. And she was always away leaving me with him. I knew that if I'd only just tell her what he was capable of... What he would do to me when she left... She'd have murdered him herself with her bare hands. But it would kill her. I couldn't do that to her. He was the only thing she had who was blood. Me, I had no-one.

"shit! Is that the time? I'm going to be late. I gotta go, honey. Say bye to Dom for me." she pleaded as she stuffed the last slice of toast in her mouth and gathered her briefcase and her keys. " ...And make sure you have something to eat. You're wasting away!" "Have a good day at work Shaz" I shouted after her. I doubt that she heard me. She was out the door in seconds, jangling her keys and fighting between speaking with me and the ringtone on her work mobile. I heard her professional, scripted 'Hello, Sharon Cormack speaking' as the door slammed behind her.

I made my way through the spotless kitchen Gina, Sharon's housekeeper, always did a good job. I grabbed a bottle of water out of the integrated refrigerator. I also grabbed my iced latte from the coffee machine. It was almost half eight. My first classes start at nine and Luna still wasn't anywhere in sight. I scrambled through my purse for my phone, ready to give her a piece of my mind. That girl would be late to her own funeral.

"You're up early" a voice from behind me sneered. It took all my might to not to curl up in a ball, trembling.

"I... I have school"

No reply. I felt him creeping up behind me, felt his breath against my neck.

"I can think of something much better to do with the day baby" he whispered as he planted acid kisses on my neck. It burned. I squeezed my eyes shut, putting my hands up defensively. He pushed my back into the counter. A sharp pain ran though me.

"Please stop. I have to go" I whispered as his hand snaked its way up my neck, fist knotting tightly in my hair.

'"Why do you think a whore like you has the right to tell me what to do, hm?"

'- Hello? Katy?' Luna's smooth voice called out in sing song.

Oh, thank god for her and her timing. He released me from his grasp and increased the distance between us. His eyes were clouded. I could tell he was pissed. I brushed passed him, running towards Luna, who was standing by the open door. I ran straight into her arms hugging her tightly.

"I thought you'd never show." I whispered. She rested her chin on my shoulder, stroking my hair. I could tell that she was staring daggers at Dom and I could tell he didn't care. Like I said, the same routine. Every morning.

By the time lunch rolled around I had had enough. had gotten into a lot of trouble with Ms. Hallows over an overdue assignment and I had spilt water all down the front of my jeans. It looked like I had pissed myself. My saving grace is that they were dark jeans and so it wasn't too noticable. That didn't stop Georgie from laughing and calling me pissy pants for half the day.

Georgie was the kind of girl that you would avoid in high school. Everybody wanted to be her but everyone hated her so bad. She had golden brunette locks, a slim face and a petite nose. Her friends Nova and Ari were just as bad. Everyone used to tell you that when you left high school things would be different. I am sorry to inform you that they don't. Bullies stay bullies forever.

I forced my way through the groups of students, crowded together in the corridors. The last thing I wanted was to be late for my chat with Mr. Reid

"Y/N" I heard Luna calling after me. I could tell that she was chasing me through the crowd of students. "Y/N. Look, Y/N stop." I rolled my eyes.

"What?" I snapped. I could see the hurt in her eyes. She leaned on the wall, panting. I sighed. "I'm sorry. What's wrong?" I asked. I felt bad for snapping at her. All she wanted was answers, like anyone would have after walking in on what she did. But I don't give answers. I shut down. I don't tell anyone anything. She tried talking once we got in the car. I ignored her and I ran once we'd arrived at school. She didn't even need to speak. I could just tell what she wanted to talk about from the look on her face. I sighed again.

"Luna, I can't talk about this right now." I saw the hurt in her eyes. If I kept pushing her away then eventually she wouldn't fight to stay. 'Good', a small voice whispered in my head. Maybe that would be for the best. She deserves better. Everyone does. I could just end my life today and nobody would care. I used to fight hard against the suicidal ideations that entered my mind but now I didn't see the point.

"I have my meeting and I can't be late. Taco Bell after classes?" I asked. To my relief, she smiled and nodded, that beautiful smile that I loved so much. She was so easy to please. I smiled and walked away towards room 1980. Dr. Reid's office.

"I love you!" she shouted after me smiling.

"I love you more!"

"Lesbians" Georgie mocked. She was stood near the bathrooms. I rolled my eyes.

"Grow up"

Luna was gay but we weren't together. We had been intimate a few times but nothing had come of it. But so what if it had? We both agreed it felt weird as we had known each other as friends for so long. We didn't want to ruin anything. Luna and I had been friends ever since she opened up my juice box for me in kindergarten and then hit the girl who had stolen my straw. We had been inseparable ever since. She's been with me through thick and thin. I'd hate to think where I'd have been if she hadn't been there when my mom had died. We are and will alway's be the best of friends. In another life I could see us growing old together, adopting puppies and children but sometimes, it doesn't work out. And if you love someone, you have to let them go.

I opened the door to 1980 and as soon as I did my heart fluttered in my chest. There he was, as beautiful as ever. He looked up from the book he was reading, glasses perched on his nose and smiled, he seemed glad to see me.

"Sweetie!" he said, a smile spreading across his gorgeous lips. He's the only person who calls me that.

"Dr. Reid" I smiled back. My smile was huge and I probably looked so dorky but I don't care. My day just got brighter. I pulled up a chair next to him and kicked my feet up onto his lap. He rested his hand on my calf.

"So what did you think to the book?"

#drreid #spencer x reader #spencerreid #spencer reid #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid story #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #mature #fic #reader x spencer reid #wattpad #wattpad fanfic #teacher x student #college professor smut #professor x student #professor x reader #teacher x reader

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agerefandom · 4 years ago

Text

> Dirk: Regress

Fandom: Homestuck

Characters: Dirk Strider, mentions of Roxy and Jake

Words: 2,750

Summary: Dirk is an age regressor. (It’s a rough day but it’s easier as a four-year-old.)

Warnings: Isolation, body dysmorphia/dysphoria (unspecified), self-sacrificing ideals, one cuss word, mention of storms.

(Note: I’ve had a few people notice that I usually write from caregiver perspectives for agere fanfiction! I struggle with putting my experience of regression into words, in a way that I don’t with my caregiver experiences. I still enjoy writing reader-insert fanfiction that deviates from my personal experience of regression, but this is my best attempt at communicating the way that I regress.)

> Dirk: Regress

Your name is Dirk Strider, and some days it’s not worth claiming that you aren’t lonely.

Filling the hours of a day is routine by this point: there’s reprogramming to be done, and new scripts to be written, and fanfiction that you absolutely don’t post online under miscellaneous pseudonyms. There are fights to win and fights to lose and moments when you just throw yourself into the water and let yourself float there until the sun is too bright against your eyelids.

But some days just refuse to pass. Nothing feels like it’s really happening, and none of your friends answer your messages, and you refuse to message again because that would be desperate. Even with four centuries’ worth of internet videos, it feels like there’s nothing to watch, and the walls are closing in with the endless ocean stretching outside. You should be able to fill this day because it’s only as empty as every other day on this abandoned planet, but somehow time seems incapable of passing.

Today seems to be one of those days, and you’ve retreated to the roof to sit and watch the waves. The sun is too warm, and you’ll probably end up with a painful sunburn, but it’s worth it to be away from the wires and screens that remind you of the work you aren’t doing and the friends who aren’t responding.

For some reason this view always seems to feel new, despite the hundreds of days you’ve spent pacing on this roof, fighting on this roof, bleeding on this roof. Something about the sky’s ever-shifting shades and the way the ocean rolls far beneath you. Something about the seagulls that flutter down from the sky to rest their wings, or maybe the wind in your hair and the way it ruffles your clothes, the closest thing you have to human touch.

You close your eyes and lean your chin on your knees, breathing in ocean air that tastes like salt and smoke. You’ve always assumed that the bad smell is an effect of whatever technology the Batterwitch used to flood the planet, but maybe the air on Earth has always been horrible.

The heat is heavy in the air today, which means there might be a storm brewing. The apartment is always the worst during storms, listening to the rusted supports groaning in the wind and wild waves. Sometimes you wonder if you’ll even make it to the fabled game, or if the ocean will just swallow you one day with none of your friends the wiser.

You feel ready to settle in for an afternoon of grade-A moping, but part of you doesn’t agree. Part of you feels like enjoying the sunlight, or going for a swim. That sounds nice, if you’re being honest, but you doubt that you could enjoy anything today. Part of your mind will always be thinking about the messages you’re waiting for, the hours you have to fill, and the fact that tomorrow will be exactly the same as today, and how will you be able to deal with that when today seems so endless?

That excited part of you is insistent, though. It really wants to run around and play, which is an instinct that seems foreign. You mentally inspect the desire, trying to decide if it’s a sign that you’re finally giving up your tenacious grasp on sanity. The more you pay attention to it, the more tempting it feels. Just let go for a while.

There’s an energy in the desire that moves into your body, replacing the lethargy of moping. Your limbs feel ready for climbing, for swimming, for exploring a ruined world stretching around you that you usually prefer to ignore. Maybe it would be nice, to let whatever off part of you this is take the helm for a while. It feels like it might be already happening, and you’re too tired to fight it off. You let the part of yourself that’s moping curl in on itself, finding a little corner of your mind to continue its lethargic musings.

And then you open your eyes and push yourself to your feet.

---->

Your name is Dirk Strider, you are approximately four years old, and the ocean looks incredibly blue.

You feel silly for all the moping you were doing before, and for wasting such a beautiful day. You really want to take off your clothes and get into the water, but a loud part of your brain won’t stop telling you that jumping from this high up is a really bad idea.

Your brain is stupid. You head down from the roof, slamming the door behind you to show that you’re upset about not getting to jump into the waves. Your shoes are discarded carelessly, shirt and sunglasses and pants dropped along the way. Your body is funny, not quite right and not quite wrong. It stops you for a second, and you poke your stomach, hold up your hands. The fingers are unfamiliar. This is your body, isn’t it? Why doesn’t it feel right?

You shrink away from the thoughts, but the part of your brain that’s enjoying its rest pushes you back into awareness before you can get away. Apparently you’re not allowed to stop being here, so you guess that you might as well enjoy it. Away with the body thoughts! You’re getting distracted from the real goal, which is to be in the nice cool water as soon as possible.

Once you’re free of uncomfortable clothes, you patter down a set of stairs where the walls give way to the rusted internal structure of the apartments that used to be below your home. The stairs stop at a metal platform that you remember constructing, the heat of the blowtorch and the glow of the sparks. The memory fits and it doesn’t fit, so you shrug it away as you swing over the platform onto a ladder that leads down to the water.

Halfway down the ladder you know that you’re close enough to the water that it won’t hurt to jump, so you push yourself away from the ladder and let yourself free-fall.

You hit the water feet-first and it envelops you. You can feel the air bubbles combing through your hair, rippling on the bottoms of your feet, the last bit of the above-water world clinging to you. You let yourself drift until there’s only you and the faint ocean currents pushing around you, peaceful and quiet. You wish you could stay here forever, but you can feel your lungs starting to hurt. You have to kick for a few seconds before you break the surface, sucking in a deep breath as soon as the air touches your face. The sun is too warm, and you stick your tongue out in its direction. Stupid sun.

You swim in the direction of one of the nearest buildings that sticks above the water, enjoying the sound of your legs kicking through the waves. The ocean is mostly calm today, and you can hear the seagulls crying up above you. You navigate your way through the familiar landmarks of rubble and ruin, switching from front crawl to elementary backstroke as your energy rises and falls. Your apartment towers above you, casting a shadow on the water. You think about painting something on the side of it, trying to liven up the plain grey concrete, but that seems like a thought for another day.

It takes a few minutes of swimming to reach the nearest neighboring apartment building, and you pull yourself out of the water onto a shore of concrete. There isn’t much interesting here, mostly crumbling bricks beginning to reveal the girders underneath. The roof has collapsed in on itself in slabs of concrete that you can pick your way across, avoiding the freshest evidence of seagull passerby. A plant has somehow made its home in one of the sections of brick, some kind of weed with jagged leaves and long tendrils seeking more dirt. One of the birds probably brought it from some faraway patch of land, high enough to avoid the flooding.

You stare at the bright green of its leaves, aware that it must be one of the only living things in the surrounding area. In the end, though, it’s impossible to resist picking it out of the wall, the tendrils clinging desperately to the rough bricks as you separate it from its home.

It’s rubbery in your hands, and you dig your fingernails into the leaves to watch the darker green show up in half-crescents where you tore the skin. You wrap the stem around your fingers, admiring the colour. You think about eating it, moving it towards your mouth, but there’s a mental feeling of someone smacking your hand and you drop the plant with a frown. Your brain is too busy and dumb.

You pick up the plant and move it into a patch of sunlight, hoping that it’ll get eaten by another passing bird. Then its seeds can go somewhere else, maybe even on the roof of your house.

You dive back into the water, daydreaming about having a jungle grow on the roof of your house, the roots becoming part of the apartment walls and the leaves changing colour like you’ve seen in TV shows.

---->

The afternoon passes in a delirious blur of sun and splashing, laughing at your own voice and trying to climb one of the supports of your apartment building before finding the metal too hot from the sun.

Eventually, you pull yourself out of the water and climb up the ladder one rung at a time. You take a last look at the rippling water as you open the door and step into the concrete stairwell up to your apartment.

The inside is dark and cool in contrast to the sun-heated world outside, and you begin to shiver as you make your way into your room. An old towel is in the laundry pile, so you scoop it up and use it to dry yourself off. It smells a little musty, but it does the job fine. The feeling of not-right-not-wrong hits you again as you dry off, and you push it aside more easily this time. Not your problem, and you’re starting to have the feeling that you won’t be here for long. It seems silly to worry about it with the little time you have left.

You get dressed in the nicest clothes you can find: there’s a shirt that seems way too big, and you pull it on before looking at what’s on the front. It’s a silly design with wobbly lines that you can’t put together from upside down, and the shirt hangs almost to your knees. It feels cozy, and you add a pair of boxers to the outfit before deciding it’s good enough for lazing around.

The bed is soft and springy and you settle onto it with a sigh, shoving a pillow into the corner to lean on. The day has been fun, but your shoulders are tired from the swimming and your head hurts from all the sunlight. You snag a pair of sunglasses from the table beside your bed, careful with the points as you fit them onto your face. The world gets darker and you relax, grabbing the nearest soft thing to hold. It’s Hella Jeff in his silly coloured onesie and you laugh at his big eyes, widening your own in an attempt to mimic his expression.

Your tablet is difficult to fish out from under the mattress while you’re sitting on it, and once you turn it on it makes a lot of loud noises at you until you exit the window that was open. My Little Pony is easy to find, and you pull up one of the early episodes before propping the tablet against your feet so that you can watch it while hugging your Hella Jeff plushie and maybe resting your eyes a bit.

You can feel the rest of your brain perking up as soon as the theme song comes on, but it’s your episode to enjoy, so you push everything to the back and sing along with Pinkie Pie, and if you fall asleep before the second episode is over, then there’s no one to tell you it’s too early to sleep and who cares about time anyways.

> Dirk: Wake Up.

You wake up in a tangle of blankets, with your shades half-off and poking into the pillow, and Hella Jeff’s ass in your face. You push him off grumpily and sit up in bed. It’s late, and you fell asleep with the light off, so your room is dark aside from the flashing lights from the various panels scattered on the desks.

You’re hungry, and still groggy from the unexpected nap, and the afternoon feels like a distant dream that could have happened to someone else. You try to prompt that same sense of excitement, the eager curiosity that had taken over for the day, but it feels utterly foreign to your mind. You physically poke yourself, as if that will make the mood re-emerge and take over, but it only makes you very aware that you’re wearing one of your old sleep shirts that you stopped wearing when you were about twelve. You pull it off with an irritated sound, and roll out of bed. Your pounding head demands food and water, and you haven’t checked your messages in seven hours.

The glasses you’re wearing don’t have build-in screens, so you swap them out for another pair once you’ve pulled on a t-shirt that actually fits and shoved some jeans over your boxers. Sure enough, Roxy has finally gotten back to you, and fairly recently.

You start responding to her message as you poke around the cupboards for something that you won’t have to cook. She’s messaged something benign, but you know that she knows that you know that she hasn’t been doing well or she would have messaged back sooner. Hopefully she’s feeling better, but you know from experience that she’s more likely messaging you to start an ill-conceived fight that she can use to rationalize her bad mood and self-isolation.

Having friends is exhausting. You find some packaged ramen and head back to your room, planning to just crush it up and eat it while you finish the episode that you fell asleep half-way through. Roxy is talking again, her words a blur of badly-spelled pink across your vision, and you already feel tired from the conversation. You miss Jake, and how easy he is to please. He won’t be back for another two days, out on some sort of island quest that takes him out of network range. You hope that he’s doing okay out there.

You settle into bed again, sparing a frown at your Hella Jeff plushie as if he was to blame for the entire situation. You hook up your tablet remotely to the TV so that you can properly hear it, and settle in to multitask for the night. This is what you wanted, something outside of yourself to focus on, someone else’s problems to solve, something to fill the hours for you.

But even as you start dissecting the things that Roxy isn’t saying, you find yourself craving that effortless enjoyment you’d felt that afternoon, the way your head had tilted up to the sunlight as if it was a second nature. You have a job to do, to keep everyone on track for a future that only you and Roxy know is waiting. But maybe one day, after everything was over and the game was won, you could take a longer break. Maybe there would be a new world for you to explore, and it would be better than the endless ocean of ruins.

For now, you wrap your arms around yourself and do your best to help Roxy communicate how she’s feeling. Your friends come first, and the future comes later.

#agere fanfiction #homestuck agere #homestuck regression #fandom agere #regression writing #sfw agere #my fics #american autocorrect is driving me crazy #let me be canadian in peace #for blacklist:#homestuck #dirk strider

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unholyhelbig · 4 years ago

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Bechloe greek gods au?

[a/n: Long time no see guys, I swear I have so many prompts in my inbox, I’ll get around to them soon. This is rocky because I haven’t written them in a bit. Enjoy!]

She didn’t remember getting hit with an arrow; not the way it pushed into her skin evenly and produced an even bout of pain. It was more of an annoyance, really, like a mosquito who had barely tapped a vein before she swatted it away- smearing the brown and bubbling guts on the wall.

Her room was hot that day, and even with the fan pointed directly at the bare mattress that rested on the floor, she was washed with discomfort. Beca had kicked the sheets that usually covered her away- and hadn’t even noticed the soaked fabric was ruined with anything but her own sweat.

But by the time the alarm on her phone started going off, she knew something was wrong; the loud clang of something metal and weighted falling from her bed did nothing but confirm that the thickness of the room wasn’t her imagination.

Her downstairs neighbor pushed the blunt end of a broom against their ceiling in response to the clatter and Beca figured that that served as enough of a wakeup call. It was already past noon- she could tell by the lattice design of the sun streaming through her blinds.

Beca reached blindly until her fingers wrapped around the cold shaft of metal that had so rudely pulled her from her slumber. She moved her thumb against it- not a phone, not a pair of expensive headphones. No- it was an arrow.

From where- she wasn’t sure. There was no broken glass in her apartment, no more than usual. And she would have noticed, even in a drunken slumber, if one had come crashing through the window. She lived on the fifth floor of a shitty city building.

She sat up and groaned at the pinching on the back of her thigh, the way it burned and pulsed with her own heart. The arrow was plated and gold and heavier than she thought it would be. There was an expertly crafted heart on one end, the shaft cutting right through it. Its point was coated in a rust-colored liquid.

Too weird- she decided, too early for this.

She had a lot to drink last night and probably pulled this from one of the stupid holiday displays that they had laying around the city for some agro art project. That’s what she gets, she supposed, for picking a place to live on the same block as a prestigious art school.

Beca stood and limped to the dining room, setting the bloodied arrow down on the table before grasping at the nearest cup that looked somewhat clean. She didn’t wait for the sink water to chill before gulping down a full glass and going for a second one. The warm liquid soaked into the collar of her shirt.

She hadn’t noticed it at first, not clouded by her own thirst, but she had set the arrow down next to a small card. Something that would be left in a bouquet of roses, but bigger. It created a little tent and cast a shadow next to the gold. She plucked it from the table.

Beca,

I struggle not to speak in riddles, as I’m sure you don’t remember much from last night. But the two of us had quite the boasting match. Turns out I, in fact, can drink you under the table. So- as a consolation prize for your good efforts, I’ve left you something of mine.

She frowned. It was well written in a curled type of script that would take anyone a number of hours. Her head was screaming at her and her leg was hissing. Beca remembers finishing up a set and taking whatever free drinks the patrons thought to buy her. And a woman, glowering at her across the bar. She flipped the card over, looking for more fine print.

This arrow has the effect of undying love, something you mumbled about never being able to find. This should help to a certain extent- but be forewarned; a similar arrow built of lead was left in the possession of another. Find that arrow, find your love. Cure them.

All the best,

Oh… oh, this had to be absolute bullshit. There was no way some stranger that was lingering in the darkest and dankest bar in Manhattan had followed her to her apartment and stabbed her. People didn’t just do that. They didn’t’ leave cryptic notes or gold-plated arrows because someone like Beca Mitchell had half the mind to pawn it off.

Who was C?

She flopped down in the nearest chair, letting the arrow fall to the ground once more. It clattered, even on the carpet- and as if on cue, her downstairs neighbor pushed the broom against the ceiling- as if that would stop Beca’s hangover, or her struggle to piece together missing time.

“Oh, shut up!” she shouted back, pushing her heel into the floor.

She usually never fought back. There was never a reason to. Beca carried late and odd hours, and she often found herself treading lightly- even if she was a bit buzzed. But right now the pulsing in her thigh and the blurred intentions of the letter ate away at any resolve she hoped to carry. So she stomped three times and palmed the arrow.

Her neighbor slammed the top of the broom in response and Beca let out a groan before standing, ignoring the sharp pain in her leg. She pulled open the door and registered the musty scent that the hallway carried.

Beca’s steps were muffled in her socked feet, even as she trudged past the elevator with the “Out of Order” Sign that was tacked on the metal front. The cement floor of the stairwell was cold and unforgiving against her soles. She didn’t stop until she found the exact puke-green door that she was looking for. Beca even knocked before she lost a bit of her nerve.

Then the door swung open and the crisp scent of vanilla cut through her own rancid mix of sweat and lingering whiskey. A girl stood in front of her, blonde hair pulled into a tight bun and a fancy blouse hugging her curves. She had a fire in her eyes- but Beca had an arrow, and that was enough for her.

“I’m guessing you’re our upstairs neighbor considering your heavy-handed knock?”

God, who talks like that? “Spot on, sweetie. You pulled the stick out of your ass long enough to bang it against the ceiling, huh?”

The woman huffed and pulled the door open even more. Not allowing an entrance or even offering. She put more room between the two of them, taller and meaner. “Look, just keep it down, alright? You clamoring home at two in the morning is annoying enough. I don’t need mid-afternoon too.”

“I pay rent too, you know, I can stomp around as much as I like. Not everyone keeps a normal schedule.”

She found herself using the tip of the golden arrow as a buffer, it’s point still rusted in crimson. The stranger flicked her unripe stare against it and straightened up, fingers tightening against the doorframe.

“Where’d you get that?”

“I found it, “Beca frowned “listen, that’s not the point. I will start trying to be quieter if you just stop banging the ceiling-“

“No, seriously, where did you find this?”

She was being ignored entirely, the woman plucked the arrow from her fingers and walked into her apartment, leaving the door wide open. Beca sighed heavily and followed her in with her slight limp. If she was going to be murdered, at least it would be in her own apartment building, anything to reason her actions.

It was nicer here; with soft lavender curtains and pictures hanging on the wall. Beca had gotten all of her furniture from thrift shops and friends cleaning out storage units. It was like a home goods catalog, everything smelling sweet and more importantly, clean. She was suddenly nervous to track blood on the carpet.

“Chloe!” The woman shouted, voice echoing off the hallway, she turned her back to Beca, running her fingers over the metal “This was just in your apartment?”

“Sort of, I guess. It was in my leg. I pulled it out right before you started drumming on the walls.”

She nodded and went back to studying the object, not offering up any answers. But Beca didn’t’ have much focus on her anymore; instead, she was drawn inexplicably to the woman who must be Chloe. She walked with a certain grace about her- hair messy and curled like fire. Her eyes were a striking ocean blue and every inch of her sparked like broken waves.

The girl held a towel to her arm, soaked in red and dripping. She had scrubbed most of the blood away but held pressure against her wound before stopping and scrutinizing Beca. Her nose crinkled. “Who’s this?”

“What’s your name?” The blonde asked.

“Aubrey, you invited a stranger into the apartment?” Chloe glared “She’s dirty.”

She snorted “Hi, hello, right here. If I can just get my arrow back you gracious goddess, I’ll get out of your hair.”

What the fuck was that?

“Gross.” There was a round of silence, Chloe was staring at the carpet and Aubrey was tempted to do what Beca had asked. But none of them moved, not for a bit. Chloe was the first to speak. “Your arrow?”

“Not mine technically. But it lodged itself into my thigh this morning so I think that gives me some jurisdiction over it- now, if you’ll excuse me I have to go to an urgent care.”

“No, don’t go.” Chloe clenched her jaw, and the words seemed to settle in Beca’s stomach like a rock “I got one too. It’s not gold, not like that- but it’s black.”

“It’s lead.” Aubrey corrected. “Do either of you know what that means?”

Beca’s head was pounding and she wasn’t sure if it was from the sickeningly sweet scent of the apartment or the way her heart beat faster against her throat each time Chloe moved. The sun seemed to hit her in the right way and a deafening lightness filled her at each glance. She wanted to run her fingers against her skin, feel lips against her own and, she sighed heavily “You’re so pretty,”

“Focus, please.” Aubrey snapped “I had to take a class on Greek Mythology last semester. I remember this specific story about Daphne and Apollo. Cupid shot them both with arrows after a pissing match with Apollo, and one gained the overwhelming sense of love while the other”

Aubrey trailed off and furrowed her brow.

“The other what, Bree?”

“The other grew to hate the idea of it altogether.”

“That explains why the sight of this… this girl makes me want to claw my own eyes out.” Chloe’s breath was unsteady, but still, she smelled of lemons, and her lips pursed in the perfect way.

“That’s okay, my love, I would still die for you.” Beca pressed her fingers against her lips and let out a muffled growl in frustration. “Okay, that needs to stop, now. Unless that’s not what you want Chloe-“

Chloe groaned, “Any chance you remember how to fix it?”

“I got a note, with the arrow.”

“You didn’t think to mention that sooner?”

“I was a little blind-sided by how stunning you are, forgive me.” Beca wanted to bite her tongue until it bleed. But instead, she searched her hazy mind for what the letter said. It rested on her kitchen table and she didn’t think she could get up there with the amount of pain pushing past her knee and ending at the gash in her thigh. “it said I have to cure you.”

Aubrey’s eyes widened “Chloe, I think she has to stab you with her arrow. Theoretically, that would reverse the amount of disdain in you. It would balance it out.”

“And the amount of infatuation in her?”

“I suppose it could work both ways.”

The thought of diving the metal-tipped arrow into Chloe made her sick to her stomach. A rolling that started at the back of her neck and culminated in nausea, so thick and strong it felt as if she had been drugged. She essentially had been. One small part of Beca remembers the way she challenged the woman at the bar to a drinking competition, high on her own ego.

She would never bow to a challenge, never lose without losing herself first. But this arrow; its effects would let her kneel in front of this perfect stranger without a second thought. There was no way she could bring her shaky fingers to wrap around the shaft of the arrow, only to push it into the woman’s skin.

There was a sudden blinding pain against her shoulder, a white-hot metal. “OW! Fuck!”

Beca grasped at the warmth, fingers coated with liquid as she stared at the black arrow in the better part of her shoulder, she hadn’t noticed Chloe grab the lead object. “Dude, what the hell?” She yanked it away, grunting because it somehow hurt worse on the way out.

“What? No sly comment about my insatiable beauty?” Chloe smiled, and though it was charming, it didn’t make her heart stop. In fact, part of her found it more annoying than interesting and keen.

Beca hissed through clenched teeth “Give me the arrow.”

And Aubrey obliged. Somehow it felt heavier in her grasp. Beca had half the mind to go for the shoulder too, but the way Chloe was nursing her other arm made her reconsider. She let out a small breath and slid the pointed end of the object into the side of her leg, right near her hip, hesitating a bit.

“Mother of God,” Chloe’s voice shook, “How did neither of us notice that the first time?”

Beca could blame the alcohol and the way she was knocked out cold after her display at a local bar. But she decided to keep that to herself. She mercifully removed the object and set it on the counter next to the other arrow.

Aubrey lifted both eyebrows “How do you feel?”

“Like I’m losing a lot of blood.” She swallowed thickly, “And not like I want to shove the arrow somewhere completely different.”

Beca winced “Oh, ouch.”

The blonde reached around the other end of the counter and produced a pair of keys, just as perfectly organized as the rest of her, a look of annoyance and relief against her features. “I think we should get you both to a hospital. And then we bury those things forever, agreed?”

That seemed like the only thing that made sense all day.

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #Bechloe #Bechloe Oneshot #greek gods au #pitch perfect #pitch perfect fanfiction #request

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johannas-motivational-insults · 5 years ago

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Adora might be autistic too

Alright, most people in the SPOP fandom agree that Entrapta is autistic, as her coding is extremely obvious. However, some of us also believe that our beloved protagonist Adora is on the spectrum as well. She comes off as quite the aspie, and while Asperger’s is no longer a diagnosis in the DSM-V (but is in other manuals), it falls under the blanket diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) and its diagnostic criteria is still useful in analyzing people for signs of the disorder. In analyzing Adora’s character I will refer somewhat to both disorders, with the understanding that Asperger’s is a specific manifestation of ASD.

I would like to preface this by saying this is a headcanon and people are free to disagree with me. Some of these characteristics I’m going to bring up could also manifest because of her very sheltered upbringing in a cult-like atmosphere or mental illnesses such as anxiety and complex PTSD (both of which she arguably has). I am autistic myself, so obviously I am inclined to interpret these symptoms this way, but to each their own. It’s also worth noting that Adora has a lot of symptoms that cross over with AD(H)D, a cousin disorder to ASD, and it’s totally possible she has both.

In any case, there is now enough evidence hinting at Adora’s neurodivergence (especially now that the Rebel Princess Guide has been released) that I feel the need to explain this theory in detail instead of just occasionally mentioning it. So here goes...

She’s naive/easily manipulated

This one doesn’t really need explaining, we’ve all seen it. Adora assumes people are telling the truth because why would anyone lie to her? That is such a relatable spectrum feel. She was handily brainwashed by Shadow Weaver in the Horde, while some of the others didn’t seem to swallow the propaganda so easily. This is of course partly because of the special attention and affection Adora got from Shadow Weaver, but she had to be vulnerable to manipulation in the first place for it to work.

Later, she trusts Huntara easily in the Crimson Waste despite Bow and Glimmer’s warnings about her questionable character. Adora happily follows her into a trap even once Bow and Glimmer tell her they're going the wrong way, reasoning it’s probably a shortcut rather than reevaluating her misplaced trust. This can be partly explained by how she‘s gay af for Huntara, but still.

(Interestingly, the episode cuts straight from this moment to the obviously autistic Entrapta going against her own friend's advice and refusing to give up on the portal machine despite the obvious warning sign of Hordak’s violent dismissal. Parallels, much?)

Her difficulty understanding other points of view

A lot of Adora’s conflict with Catra is predicated on misunderstandings, and she has a hard time understanding the effects her actions have on other people, Catra in particular. For instance, she misunderstands Catra talking about ruling the Horde together as being purely about power, while Catra’s actual goals are safety and Adora’s companionship. That miscommunication is not just Adora’s fault, but it illustrates that she has difficulty understanding other people’s needs and motives without being explicitly told.

This isn’t just a problem with Catra, either. In general Adora has a difficult time understanding other’s motives and feelings. For instance, she doesn’t understand Glimmer’s insecurity over Bow’s friendship with Perfuma at Princess Prom, and she can’t fathom why Entrapta would choose to work for an evil faction, going so far as to assume she must have been brainwashed into it. This is because, just like with Catra, she doesn’t understand that some people’s priorities are not the same as hers.

Autistic kids tend to reach developmental milestones at different times than neurotypicals, sometimes being way ahead and other times falling behind. One such marker that is usually slower to develop and often stays impaired is theory of mind, our ability to a) understand that other people have different perspectives and b) understand those perspectives. Adora’s difficulties being able to put herself in someone else’s shoes definitely lines up with this symptom.

She’s clumsy

For someone so athletic, Adora sure lacks coordination. This is a commonly cited symptom of people with Asperger’s, though it shows up in people with other forms of ASD too. In general, autistic people often have difficulty with fine and/or gross motor skills, and this can lead to being accident and injury prone. According to Catra in 3x05, Adora bumps her head a lot. That may have just been a callback to 1x01, but either way clumsiness has been part of her characterization since the beginning, one of her many loveable, adorkable qualities.

Her lack of social and self awareness

Adora can be painfully oblivious to her own inappropriate behavior. There’s several examples of this throughout the series, one of the more costly ones coming at Princess Prom. Shocked by Frosta’s youth, Adora fails to register how maybe this (in front of Frosta, with all eyes on her) is not the time to remark on it. She immediately realizes this was the wrong thing to say (or at least not something she should shout), but that small delay causes both her and Glimmer a lot of embarrassment.

Part of the issue here is that she loses control of her volume, which in itself is a common problem for those of us on the spectrum. This isn’t the only time we see her have this problem, either, and it’s amplified (tee hee) when she’s drunk/infected.

More generally, one of the funniest examples of Adora’s poor social awareness comes when she barges into Huntara’s flirtation with the bartender in the Crimson Waste. She’s so focused on her task of recruiting Huntara that it doesn’t even occur to her that this is an intimate moment and intruding would be rude.

In the Rebel Princess Guide Adora also says she wishes Queen Angella would let her make some adjustments to the uniforms of the Bright Moon guards, which implies she tried to make these suggestions already. Maybe she figured She-Ra could suggest anything, but as both a newcomer and a royal subject that’s a bit of a faux pas. Chances are, that went right over Adora’s head.

She can’t read a room to save her life (literally)

This is another, more specific aspect of social awareness. Adora has difficulty picking up on the implicit rules (social norms) when she enters unfamiliar situations, and has a tendency to step on toes because of it. She also doesn’t understand when her friends try to nonverbally communicate what she’s doing wrong, and nonverbal communication deficits and problems with social awareness and insight are two major symptoms of ASD. One specifically listed example is “difficulties adjusting behavior to suit social contexts”, including:

Lack of response to contextual cues (e.g. social cues from others indicating a change in behavior is implicitly requested)

Unaware of social conventions/appropriate social behavior; asks socially inappropriate questions or makes socially inappropriate statements

Here’s a couple specific example of times where Adora misses or misunderstands nonverbal cues to change her behavior:

At her first Rebellion meeting she doesn’t realize that maybe she shouldn’t sit in the special-looking chair, and doesn’t clue in that that’s why everyone is freaking out.

In the Crimson Waste, Glimmer responds to the growling bar patrons surrounding them by suggesting that maybe these aren’t the kind of people they should be asking for help, but Adora persists. She jumps up on the bar and makes a speech trying to get directions (which is socially inappropriate for the context as well as dangerous), somehow missing all the scowls from the patrons as well as Bow and Glimmer’s wild gesturing.

Panic over unfamiliar social situations

Adora’s anxiety about going to Princess Prom could be attributed to many things, not just a spectrum disorder. Her obvious anxiety, for one, though to be fair there’s a high comorbidity between the two disorders. In any case, it seems the unfamiliarity of the situation is a sticking point for Adora in particular, while Bow and Glimmer are nothing but excited for their first ball.

Adora’s anxiety seems to stem mostly from being overwhelmed by the prospect of entering a new social situation with a whole bunch of unfamiliar rules to remember. She’s still learning behavioral norms outside of the Horde, and this is a huge jump up in terms of difficulty for her fledgling social skills.

To cope with her stress she goes overboard trying to prepare by making a conspiracy board of sorts, flash cards, and an obstacle course. And at the ball itself, it seems like she’s even rehearsed how to behave.

This probably isn’t only relatable to autistics, but it’s very relatable to us. Creating and rehearsing behavioral scripts is a common strategy to avoid embarrassing ourselves in public. Unfortunately, as we saw above, this works for about five seconds before Adora botches the whole thing by commenting on Frosta’s age.

Extreme stress over details

In general, Adora is a very anxious, perfectionistic person who hyperfixates on details, a very autistic trait. As mentioned above, this is wonderfully illustrated by her overpreparation for Princess Prom. She’s broken down the overwhelming list of rules in the invite into categories to make it more manageable, gone into detail categorizing people’s relationships to each other, and learned trivia about the guests in order to feel more prepared. Yet, somehow she missed the important fact that the hostess is only eleven years old.

Unfortunately this hangup doen’t only affect her, but also her friends and allies. The overarching theme in “Roll With It” is how debilitating Adora’s anxiety and perfectionism can be. Her eye for detail and ability to see flaws in plans is actually very valuable, but she gets so hung up on every possible thing that could go wrong that she can’t accept imperfect solutions with calculated risks.

Her propensity to be overwhelmed by too much information (like with the Princess Prom invite) shows up here too. Adora grows more and more frustrated and overwhelmed as more princesses join the planning session, adding more variables to deal with and more people to manage. She begins lashing out and shooting down every possible solution that doesn’t satisfy her need for perfection immediately. Her behavior looks like it may be headed for a meltdown until it culminates in an epic rant revealing all her anxiety and how it ties into her insecurities about her own imperfection.

Thankfully her friends are able to reassure her that she has support and doesn’t have to be perfect, but it’s an ongoing battle, one we already saw her struggle with in “Flowers for She-Ra” and “The Battle of Bright Moon”. It’s a strong tenet of Adora’s personality that is proving difficult to shake.

What she misses about the Horde

The recently published Rebel Princess Guide contains a list by Adora of things she misses about the Horde, and this list screams neurodivergent. I’ll go through it point by point, since there’s a lot to unpack here.

THINGS I MISS ABOUT THE HORDE

1. I miss the rigid schedule. It never changed, and I always knew what to expect.

Ritualistic behavior and an insistence on sameness are often seen in individuals with ASD. In fact, it’s a major symptom. Many of us have diifficulty adjusting to changing schedules, changes in diet, or even minor changes in our environment (such as placement of objects, boy do I have stories there). We need warning when things are going to change, and even if we know it’s coming it’s still a struggle to adjust.

2. I miss the constant sound of machines and whirring. In Bright Moon, there’s always music playing, or people laughing, and birds singing. It’s nice but it makes it hard to focus!

Autistic brains process sensory information differently from neurotypicals, that’s basically our disorder at its core. Over or under reactions to sensory input are common and in fact considered a major symptom, and this entry of Adora’s specifically refers to difficulties with sensory filtering. We have a hard time filtering out information that’s irrelevant to our current task, which makes us easily distractable.

3. Believe it or not, I miss my hard cot in the barracks. My bed in the castle is way too soft!

This ties into both the insistence on sameness and sensory issues.

4. Catra… sometimes.

This isn’t autistic, it’s just gay.

Speaking of which...

She’s gay

Adora's relationship with Catra has always been queer-coded, but any doubts about her sexuality were dispelled in season 3 by the way she fawns over Huntara like a baby gay over her gym teacher. Her obvious queerness might seem unrelated to the topic of autism, but those of us within the community can attest there’s probably just as many queer people among us as there are cishets. It’s so notable that there has been quite a bit of scientific research confirming people with ASD are more likely to be LGBT and gender atypical and exploring the cause of this link.

(This needs no proving at this point, but enjoy these gifs anyway...)

In conclusion

Overall, there’s a lot of hints and circumstantial evidence suggesting Adora could have ASD. Was this the creators’ intent? Hard to say. Adora is the protagonist and one of the most developed characters, so she’s definitely not a cardboard cutout or checklist for ASD symptoms (compare that to Entrapta, a secondary character whose behaviors can often easily be attributed to autism). It’s totally possible the creators just characterized her as naive and awkward and obsessive without realizing the implications of that cluster of traits together.

Regardless of authorial intent, it’s perfectly valid to look at Adora and see representation of the ASD community. The groundwork is there. And if someone else looks and doesn’t see it, or sees something else causing this behavior, that is also fair. No one is forcing anyone to accept this headcanon (or at least they shouldn’t be), but in return please don’t disparage it. Even if she is not autistic Adora is definitely autistic-coded, and we could use some more heros with the disorder, given how we’re mostly relegated to being villains and anti-heroes (not that there’s anything wrong with us filling those roles sometimes, but a little variety would be nice).

Adora is often referred to as a dumbass, but she’s actually quite intelligent, just sometimes slow to understand how she should act and how people feel. Still, she tries her hardest, just as she does with everything else. Adora is heroic and compassionate, even if she sometimes struggles to understand others. When autistic-coded characters are so commonly portrayed as cold and unforgiving, Adora is a sorely needed exception.

#spop #she-ra #she ra #meta #autistic adora #adora #autism #asd #asperger's #actuallyautistic

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entamesubs · 4 years ago

Text

Episode 17 - Translation + Screenshots

Unfortunately, as there are no raws for me to sub, the best I can do for people who wish to understand what was happening this episode is to describe it the best I can with my translations.

There is really nothing else I can do about this situation; it’s completely out of my control.

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About Why No Full Script Release

I have changed my mind about releasing the full translated script because the document itself is very rough and not really meant to be read by anyone other than me and the proofreader. I also don’t feel comfortable releasing the whole thing without it having gone through the third “check” it usually does when I start timing and subbing.

For context, I usually translate as I watch, and everything is written down quickly as I get through it. This is the first draft, which I call the “rough” of my translation, and contains weird sentence structure + small mistranslations as I am mainly concerned about getting stuff down and less about the fine details.

At this point the document is sent to my proofreader who then combs over everything and fixes grammar, wording, and translation errors. The second draft after editing is what I call the “raw sub”, as this is the file I take into the subbing program.

The third and final check is during the timing process, as I move these lines from a text document onto the screen, and get to see how they work with the episode itself. Translations may be changed, words removed or redone, etc as I watch a second time and read over the work. This means that the “final” translation that you would normally see in a subbed episode goes through three different checks at different times to make sure it all comes together nicely.

Of course, stuff still slips through the cracks even with these checks, but it is a lot less with them.

For this reason, because the script hasn’t (and can’t) go through its third and final check, I do not want to release the full translation as it is still, in my mind, an incomplete work.

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Episode 17

My name is Neil, 11 years old, the person who controls providence. It began when I was 3 years old. My parents, [...], gave me something else to occupy my time with. And that was... duels.

[OP plays here]

Winning as many tournaments as I did came easy to me. Goha came to scout me, and gave me this garden.

A vast underground space that encompassed the entire city, the centre of it being my haven, along with the complete control and regulation of duels around the world That was the beginning of my "providence".

At this point Otis comes in to ruin Neil’s complete control of the duel network. They exchange a few words; Neil recognizes Otis and vice versa. Neil asks if his interruption was his handiwork, and Otis says yes.

Duels as you know will change. A new King of Duels will be born soon.

Otis does not mean “born” literally, as Neil and Yuuga are the same age.

Neil goes on about how the “deviation” from the norm were Rush Duels and tried his hardest to erase them, but couldn’t. Then he found Yuuga.

Leave everything to providence.

Neil introduces himself as part of Goha Corporation.

Neil shows the USB stick with Kaizo’s data on it and Yuuga notices the Kaizo-seat react, so he deduces that it is real. Neil says he will only give it back if they win against the duelists that lurk within the Garden of Providence. However, if they lose 6 times overall, then it will be a complete defeat in his eyes, and he will delete their accounts permanently.

Yuuga asks why he doesn’t just delete everyone who has ever played a Rush Duel’s accounts, and Neil says it’s “not his providence”.

Yuuga: Then you won't cheat? Neil: You're exactly how I imagined you. As expected of someone picked out by Otis. [...] Neil: Well then, have fun in the Garden.

At the end of this scene, Mimi is shocked that the rumored “genius programmer” within the company is just a child, and may be more important than her.

Yuuga and co. run into Nekoyama Schrödinger, who is the first duelist they must face. Luke volunteers to duel.

I'll pound some manners into that guy who wants to do something as ridiculous as permanent account deletion!

Duel proceeds. Nekoyama summons Blue Eyes White Cat and Red Eyes Black Cat, then sets 3 cards face down. Luke summons three monsters then tributes two of them for Rush Dragon Dragears.

He tries to attack but is stopped by Nekoyama’s trap card, which makes him have to guess what type of card is at the top of his deck.

If you're wrong, [your attack is] nyagated, and you take 300 damage, meow!

Romin says she’s worried, but Gakuto says it will be just alright.

At this point the word “worry” makes Luke finally remember his troubles from two episodes ago, at the start of 15.

That's right, I just remembered. The thing that I'm worried about. When Yuuga becomes the King of Duels, will he really give the throne over to me? Agh, I remembered! What am I doing?! Why am I dueling a cat?!

Luke becomes too pre-occupied with his thoughts and decides to guess “monster” for what’s at the top of his deck. He is wrong and takes 300 damage.

He tries to attack again, but runs into Nekoyama’s trap card again.

Nekoyama: It's said that there are many possibilities that can coexist within this world. Luke: What are you talking about? Nekoyama: You and I, at the same time, can both win and lose this duel. Yuuga: That's Schrödinger's Cat.

Once again Luke chooses poorly and takes 300 damage.

Nekoyama tribute summons Odd Eyes Twin-Tail Cat, then summons another set of BEWC and REBC. Then, activates a spell card that has Luke guess what the top card of his deck is (again). If Luke is wrong, Nekoyama’s monsters can direct attack.

Luke is still distracted by his thoughts of not becoming King, and chooses wrong. Nekoyama’s monsters direct attack.

Odd Eyes Twin-Tail Cat's effect, Nyanderful Trap, activates!

Nekoyama returns the trap he just used to his hand and sets two cards.

There are countless possibilities in this world. It seems one of them is about to be revealed, meow. That is, meowr utter defeat! Turn ennya~

Luke is still distracted and extremely depressed. Gakuto picks up on what’s going on, but Luke denies it.

Gakuto: Is the thing you're worrying about the King's Throne? [...] Gakuto: Then just listen to what Yuuga-kun has to say!

Luke asks Yuuga if he really will give him the King’s Throne when he becomes the King one day.

Yuuga: Luke is my friend. If a friend asks, then of course! Luke: Of course?! Yuuga: No way. Luke: What?! Yuuga: But, anyone can become King. Countless possibilities exist, you know. There is a possibility that Luke will become the King! Luke: I could... become King...?

Luke finally finds his resolves and says he can envision himself becoming King now. He says he’s found his “daor” (road backwards).

It won't be the same as last time! Because right now, I have decided to become King!

Duel proceeds. Luke tribute summons Thrust Dragon Bunker Strike, complete with a new summoning chant mentioning his new “daor”.

Bunker Strike lets him draw cards from his deck based on the amount of monsters his opponent has on his field. Since Nekoyama has 3, Luke draws 3. Then, he can put the same number of cards in his hand back on top of his deck in any order. This lets him choose the correct card for Nekoyama’s trap.

Foolish! I returned my cards to the top of my deck earlier, so the top card is— The card... uh, the card?

He forgets the order he put them in. The others express disbelief.

Yuuga: That's Luke for you!

He eventually manages to remember and defeats Nekoyama.

Nekoyama kowtows and begs for Neil-sama’s forgiveness, but instead gets shoved down a chute that then closes after him.

Luke is furious at seeing this.

Let the future King come up and beat you already! Duel me!

Neil says it’s too bad, but the duel has been enough for one day, and to come back another time. He transports them to the exit against their will.

Neil: It's already very late. Dueling is all well and good, but go home and do your homework.

The gang expresses some disbelief as to everything that’s happened, but Yuuga reassures them that they will win for sure. He’s happy that Luke found his own “daor”.

Luke points at a twinkling star in the sky and declares it his “daor”, saying that it is the star of the King of Duels.

It then proceeds to fall and Luke jumps out in disbelief.

Aaah, don't fall already!!

[ED plays here]

And previews for the next episode where Roa duels his drummer, Getta.

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Hope this helped a little in at least understanding everything that went on! In lieu of raws, this will just have to work for now.

If you wish to support me, go here: https://ko-fi.com/sakaki

#yugioh #yugioh sevens #yugioh sevens spoilers #sevens spoilers #ygo sevens #e017

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kenjis9965 · 4 years ago

Text

I guess I'm going to stick my head out and prepare for it to be shorn off.. I've been playing Cyberpunk 2077 since launch, I've not finished it yet but I'm about 30 hours in. I'm going to do my best avoiding spoilers while talking about the game.

A lot has been written about the crunch aspects which genuinely should not have happened. Do I think they intended to? I have no idea. 2020 has been a hell of a year. Regardless the crunch time should not have happened. Others have written about this at length and I don't feel I have anything to add to this that hasn't been already said.

The state of the console releases was abysmal from my understanding. I'm playing on PC, I'm lucky enough to be rocking a R9 3900X + RTX 3080 and I'm playing it in 4k in proper HDR with RT and all the goodies.

Performance is fine. It's what I've seen many times in the past on these cross-generational/first in a next generation releases. Again, everything at Ultra, 4k+DLSS, etc and I'm running around at a fairly good 50-55 or so fps most of the time. Heavy drops are usually in the scripted conversational scenes which see it go down to 30-40, but that depends on location and seems to depend on how many reflective surfaces are in play. Overall other games of this "type" such as Witcher 3 or AC Unity which pushed stuff to its limits were far worse than this in terms of performance hiccups and etc. I know I'm running top shelf hardware however and others experiences may be different.

In terms of glitches I guess I've been lucky overall. I've had maybe 5 crashes in 30 hours of play. I've had few "weird" things happen.. In fact the worst so far was when I loaded a checkpoint when I was riding as a passenger in a car I loaded into the driver position inside the driver which was strange. I havnt seen like random npcs drop dead in the street or cars fall from the sky or any of those things I've seen others report on.

Overall I'm enjoying it. I think there's several well done little side quests, I enjoy the characters I've met and I love the setting. I am overall having a blast with the game and enjoying the storyline. I do find plenty of social commentary in it. I've been immersed in it in a way I havnt been in a long time in all honesty (and I'm an old schooler who played Deus Ex on release. To give context)

So why write this? Because I wish everyone else was able to enjoy it this much too. I wish pronouns were just something you could select instead of being dictated by your voice. I wish the hairstyles were universal. Mostly though the game definitely needed another few months in the oven. A delay to April 2021 would probably have avoided the crunch issues and resulted in a more polished product. Or even staggering the releases of the PC and console versions to give each the attention they needed.

On PC it would have been nice to have RT support for Amd's RX6000 cards as well as Nvidia's RTX cards, it would have been a MASSIVE thing and given us a real point of comparison between the two in a game that heavily leverages RT for its look. Also perhaps getting Amd's upcoming dlss competitor a chance to show what it can do

On consoles the old ps4/Xbox one were always going to choke on this game. But they should have had next gen PS5/Series patches on day one. The ps4/Xbox one definitely needed a lot more tuning and bug fixing. I kinda go back to my theory that maybe they should have delayed the console release and polished up the pc version first THEN worked on getting the console versions to an equally good state.

The game needed more time. I don't know how much covid impacted the time estimates. There's obviously obstacles to remote working in any field. Perhaps they assumed the entire covid thing would be resolved. Perhaps not. And perhaps they've answered that and I missed it. If they hadn't had to crunch so hard to get a somewhat working product maybe there'd have been more time to go over the work and adjust things like pronoun/gender being tied to voice. Or the stupid flickering light shit that could cause a seizure.

I feel the game was close, very close, to being a very universally acclaimed title had it not been for the last minute crunch. I think it would be easier to look past it's failings and problems if it was on a technical level "finished" for most people. I do genuinely hope the industry is learning from this crap, even if I also admit that's probably not going to happen. Also from past titles cdpr will probably get it patched up eventually (Witcher 3 was a buggy mess folks)

#Cyberpunk #Cyberpunk 2077 #Gaming #Pc gaming #Opinion

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imagine-loki · 4 years ago

Text

Atlas: Space, Mercury

TITLE: Atlas: Space

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 2/12

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine narrating episodes of Loki’s life with the Avengers based on the songs from Sleeping At Last’s “Atlas: Space” album.

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Welcome to my Sleeping At Last’s Atlas: Space challenge, aka Another writing project I do not have time for, but my brain insisted on doing.

This series will be less like a multichapter fic and more of a one-shot compendium, but that they all interconnect in one way or another. It will revolve around Loki and Becca’s relationship (Taking Turns, Glow, Helmet Heists–don’t worry, more Loki-Charlie stuff will be along) and I will use those one-shots as reference to the timeline. Each chapter will be one song, used as inspiration for the story.

Warnings include: language, maybe, and morally grey debates about killing bad guys, angst (so much angst), and a thoroughly confused Loki.

Chapter 2: Mercury

Summary: Becca did not expect to feel this way after her first official mission. Loki did not expect to care how she felt, one way or another. Takes place after Helmet Heists.

“Heya, Lokes. How’s it going?”

Loki looked up, brow furrowed in a calculating expression. Tony Stark was not one to casually strike up a conversation with him unless it was of the utmost importance and he had no other choice. Therefore, the almost cheery way he had plopped himself down beside him on the couch was a matter of extreme curiousness.

Loki was having none of it.

“What is this?”

“I only asked how you were?” Tony sounded unsure, put looked all around innocent until he let out a long puff of air that made his cheeks inflate. “OK, I wanted to ask you how Becks was.”

Loki rolled his eyes and turned the page on his book, his attention now on the tight script before him. “I daresay she’s your employee, Stark, not mine. Why would I know?”

“Maybe because she’s the only person you talk to, and you’d be able to tell if she were OK. And the fact that you’ve been sticking to her like glue since we got back from the Hellhole. I don’t know, it gives me the inkling that you do, indeed, know.”

Stark wasn’t wrong.

Rebecca was the only human that Loki seemed to find bearable most of the time. She wasn’t loud or brash or mindless. Her taste in literature wasn’t half bad, either.

But she was human. And mortal. And beneath him.

For the longest time, he had tried not to get too attached, but this last mission certainly became a turning point in their relationship. It wasn’t bad, per se. They understood each other’s body language in a way that only two introverts could, and they worked together well as a team, but… she was so soft and innocent and everything he was most certainly not. Loki tended to scoff and ridicule humans such as this, not attempt to ensure their safety and their ongoing wellbeing, even after the fact.

Those eyes, though…

“Lokes?” Apparently Loki had been silent for much longer than was considered normal. He tended to do that a lot, as of late, always in relation to that dreary mortal.

Loki shifted uncomfortably at the memory of Becca’s eyes on the jet ride back. “I would say she takes issue with the moral ambiguity of killing an enemy. Regardless of whether or not they deserved it.”

Rows of houses Sound asleep Only streetlights Notice me

He nearly wanted to laugh at himself. Taking issue was probably the understatement of the year.

More than once, while he was doing his nightly walks, he would find Becca on the roof, staring at the world below–at the forests, the darkness, at the nothingness. She would stand, shivering in the night air, as she tried to make out shapes in the inky black abyss. It would take him two or three mentions of her name to rouse her from contemplative stupor. And, even then, Loki could tell she was not all there.

She always smiled, pushing through the oppressive chaos in her head and ask him about his day. As if she had not been fixing to fall apart a second before.

Damn her and her empathy.

I am desperate If nothing else In a holding pattern To find myself

I talk in circles I talk in circles I watch for signals For a clue

More than once he had swallowed whatever irritation would bubble to the surface in an effort to get her talking. Instead of his usually acidic demands for her to get on with it, he simply nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging manner and waited for her to spill her thoughts, as repetitive as they were. Not that he could blame her.

He remembered the first time he had killed something. He was seven. It had been a rabbit while on a hunt. He cried for three days, afterwards, until an Einherjar had scoffed and told him that was how life worked and he needed to accept it. Loki hadn’t cried when that particular soldier did not come home from a siege in Vanaheim a hundred years later. Nor for the hundreds that had been lost in battles, since. What was the point? Creatures lived and died, sometimes by his blade. That was life.

How to feel different How to feel new Like science fiction Bending truth

“Why do you keep asking that, Loki?” She had whined, pulling the edges of his cloak, which he had laid over her bare shoulders to shield her against the wind. He had asked if she was doing alright. “You know I’m physically fine. You made sure of that.”

He had not meant to inquire after her physical well-being, and Becca very well knew that. She also knew that he would die a fiery death before insisting “but, how do you feel?” Loki had made an annoyed noise and stormed off with the intention to hide in his room. He had doubled back, halfway there, only to watch her wipe away tears from the corners of her eyes when she thought herself alone. He still went back to his room, but he felt like a rock was lodged in his stomach all the way there.

“Could you do me a favor and keep an eye on her? She’s been really jumpy and anxious at work, but she keeps telling me she’s fine.” Tony sighed. “I just worry about her, man.”

Loki offered a sympathetic look, despite his initial reaction to sneer back at the Iron Man. Breaking old habits was hard. “I know. I will.”

No one can unring this bell Unsound this alarm, unbreak my heart new God knows I am dissonance Waiting to be swiftly pulled into tune

The Asgardian prince had found his friend in a hidden corner of the library. It looked like she had started to read one of the many tomes on Asgardian technology he had lent her, before her mind betrayed her. Becca was staring straight in front of her, brown eyes empty of any emotion yet full of doubts and insecurities.

“Rebecca.” His whisper clapped like thunder in the eerie silence of the library.

She snapped out of her trance and offered him a smile. “Sorry, did you say something, Lo?”

Gods above, help me.

Loki sighed, pulling a chair beside her and sinking down. Even seated, he was still significantly taller than her, but she found that she felt a little less nervous when he tried to get on her level. It was a kindness, she knew, but the concern buried deep in his gaze did little to make her feel better. If anything, she felt worse. If she had stayed in the jet, if she had followed directions, who would she be today? Could she be able to sleep? Could she stop waking up in cold sweats at all hours of the morning?

“Dearest, talk to me.” The use of pet names were few and far between with Loki. He much preferred calling anyone “hey, you” or “imbecile come here”. So the use of a term of endearment…

Did she really look in that dire a state?

“Tony sent you, huh?” Becca thought she might as well deflect until he felt uncomfortable. That usually worked.

“No, I sent myself,” he assured, frowning. The expression he received in exchange screamed you’ve gotta be kidding me. “Though Tony expressed interest in also knowing how you were,” he admitted and Becca rolled her eyes. Swallowing whatever shard of emotion that was attempting to convince him to let the whole thing go, he craned his neck until his gaze could easily fix on hers. “You cannot go on like this, you know it. You cannot keep replaying scenarios in hopes of finding a loophole to villainize yourself with.”

I know the further I go The harder I try, only keeps my eyes closed And somehow I’ve fallen in love With this middle ground at the cost of my soul

Becca groaned, the sincerity in his voice making the pit in her stomach grow larger. The edges of her perfectly crafted calmness began to fray and she was sure that the god could easily feel it unraveling under his stare. “It can’t be this simple, Loki.” She couldn’t live her life without feeling guilty, she meant. Surely, she had to spend the rest of eternity purging herself of these demons before she could allow herself even a morsel of comfort. If not, was she not just a monster?

Loki chuckled drily, placing a hand on her shoulder and its weight felt like a welcome balm to her shot nerves. “Who said anything about simple? You took lives. Nothing about that is simple. Believe me, I understand. But, on rare occasions, the ends do justify the means.”

Her head fell, hanging between her shoulders in a sign of defeat she should have never had to deal with. Stark shouldn’t have asked her to come on the mission, but she saved ten of the two dozen from dying in battle due to faults in their equipment. She saved him from what she thought was certain death (and might have been). Her heart was too good for this dark, sludgy world of his, he knew.

He wanted to hate it, to scoff at her naivety, at her hopefulness for the rotting lump that was her world. He couldn’t. He craved it, instead, and wondered how he had ever lived his thousand plus years without that little beacon of hope.

His chest hurt. Loki supposed that was the place his heart was meant to be, and the phantom organ had clenched at her tears, once she had managed to face him again.

She sniffed. “I don’t know if I can live with that.”

Yet I know, if I stepped aside Released the controls you would open my eyes That somehow, all of this mess Is just my attempt to know the worth of my life In precious metals

“I can,” he said simply. The surety of his voice and the clear lack of remorse made her something inside her feel warm like lava, rather than a fireplace’s hearth. She shuddered at his set expression and the glimmer of bloodlust in his stare. “I would have killed a hundredfold more, if it meant bringing you back safe. I will never live to regret that.” Loki was surprised to find that none of these words were a lie. He didn’t want her dead. He wanted her to thrive. He wanted her not to feel this gnawing emptiness that followed the taking of life. “You are my friend and you’re worth many more than that.”

“I don’t think that’s true, but thanks, anyway,” she muttered.

“Would I lie to you?” Never in his life had he wished for someone to ignore his nature and reply in the negative, than he did right now.

Becca’s mouth twisted in a reluctant smile. “Absolutely.” His heart clenched again, and this time there was no doubt about it. “But I don’t think you are.”

A long stretch of silence encompassed them.

“I want to return.”

“Return?” He frowned.

“To the field.” She sighed, pulling her shoulders back and sitting up straight. He had seen that pose before, when she was resolute to solve an issue or dissect a conundrum. He saw it when she had run from the jet and skidded to a stop beside him. “The reason I’ve been feeling so miserable is that fact that I feel awful about what I’ve done, but I can’t ever leave you guys out there alone, again. Not after what I’ve seen. And I’ve never felt this conflicted.”

“It’s what we signed up for, dove,” he assured, tucking a strand of her long brown hair behind her ear with incredible gentleness. “You needn’t worry about us. We’ll be perfectly fine as long as you’re there to greet us back.”

“That’s like telling me I don’t have to worry about the sky suddenly turning green. I’m going to do it, anyway.” Becca wasn’t sure why, but she followed up his silent question. “I’m going to get my training certifications back up-to-date, log in some time on local raids, and I’m joining missions.”

“Darling, you don't–”

“I’m going back! That’s final!” Becca snapped so loudly that Loki jumped, startled, and leaned back ever so slightly.

He blinked a few times to live down his surprise and offered her a nod. “Then, I will dutifully follow.” He smirked, nudging her side playfully. “Someone has to keep you alive.” Lest I attempt to destroy this pathetic planet, once more.

He hated that this was his first thought, but he knew he would follow her to Helheim and back to see her through. He needed to protect that light, that shine, that glow.

I’ll go anywhere you want me

#Loki #Angst #Others #Submitted fic #submission #atlas space #mercury #Fanfictrashdump #chapter 2

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