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ibijau · 4 years ago

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Worst engagement AU // on AO3

Nie Huaisang finds it's nice to have people who enjoy his company

(Part of this chapter had already been posted a while back for an ask about how the Jiang boys views nhs’s engagement. I’ve added to it and touched it up to fit the rest)

warning for canon typical underage drinking

It was so nerve wracking to stand up to Lan Xichen that as soon as he is out of view of his fiancé’s house, Nie Huaisang breaks into tears. He can’t decide if he regrets speaking so bluntly or not. He half wants to run back and go tell Lan Xichen he’s sorry, that he shouldn’t have said this, that he’ll be good again, that he’ll do his best.

He doesn’t.

He can’t . As he’s said, he’s tried that already and it was miserable. Everything good he’s gotten in life, he got by being bold and not caring for consequences. Everything from his dear nightingale, to Lan Wangji’s good opinion, and now the company of Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian he got by doing what he wasn’t supposed to do.

He can’t grovel in front of Lan Xichen. Not now, and not ever again. Even if he’s crying now, even if he cries after every time they meet, as long as he stands strong in front of Lan Xichen then everything is fine. Besides, even if he’s sure that his behaviour will be reported to Lan Qiren and he will get a scolding for it, it was all worth it for the shock on Lan Xichen’s face. Just thinking back on it is enough to make Nie Huaisang chuckle through his tears.

Once he manages to calm down, Nie Huaisang dries the traces of his crying with his sleeves, puts on a smile, and returns to his cabin.

It’s a bit of a shock to find that Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian really stayed there and waited for him. Nie Huaisang assumed they would just return to their own cabin. Instead Wei Wuxian grins at him as if he’s truly happy to see him and waves his hand at him.

“We were starting to wonder if we should go rescue you!”

Nie Huaisang snorts as he closes the door behind him, but feels his heart beat a little faster. This is… nice. It might be selfish, but he likes the idea of his company being wanted.

“Wei gongzi, it was just a talk with my fiancé,” Nie Huaisang protests with a smile. “I was quite fine. We’ve decided that we should meet every so often, now that things are getting more concrete. He’ll be of age in just two years after all, and we might marry soon after.”

“Were you really fine?” Jiang Cheng asks, scowling at him. It seems that just his normal expression most of the time, so Nie Huaisang tries not to take it personally. At the same time, his eyes are probably a little red still from crying, so maybe Jiang Cheng is worried.

Nie Huaisang decides to laugh it off.

“Why wouldn’t I be? It really was just a small chat. But let’s talk about something more fun now, right?”

They don’t insist, but as they start discussing again an expedition to nearby Gusu to buy forbidden contraband to make their stay in the Cloud Recesses more fun, Nie Huaisang feels that everyone looks at him a little too much. He tells himself it’s just because he’s the only one who has really visited Gusu before while the others just passed through it on their way here (though Wei Wuxian did still manage to spot several interesting shops) but it might also be that he failed to hide how upset that chat with lan Xichen made him. He’ll have to hide it better in the future.

There’s no way of being sure that they’ll all leave him behind if they realise he’s not naturally as daring and bold as them, but it’s not a risk he wants to take.

After dinner that evening (boring, disgusting, bitter… Nie Huaisang is going to starve when he comes to live here permanently) and as they start heading back toward their cabins, Wei Wuxian grabs Nie Huaisang by the elbow and pulls him away from the other guest disciples. He’s grinning in a way that, in only a few days, Nie Huaisang has learned means he has a very awful idea to share.

“Nie gongzi, let’s trade tonight,” Wei Wuxian offers in a whisper. “We send our disciples to your cabin, and you come to ours for a bit of fun with me and Jiang Cheng.”

That breaks a number of rules, of course, and Nie Huaisang is already waiting for the fallout of his chat with lan Xichen.

“I’m not sure…”

“I am. Come on, it’ll be fun! Just bring some of those prints you’ve mentioned, alright?”

Nie Huaisang grins and gives in. Apparently, Sect Leader Jiang’s wife is a very strict woman, so it is nearly impossible for Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng to get their hands on that sort of pictures, and they get badly punished if any are found in their things. Finding release outside of dual cultivation is supposedly bad for the flow of spiritual energy, and madam Yu takes these things very seriously, especially with her son.

It makes Nie Huaisang very glad that he has so little spiritual energy himself. He can waste it if he likes, it won’t make much difference.

With this plan agreed on, they go to their separate cabins to prepare for the night. Nie Huaisang companions don’t seem too upset that the Jiang disciples are being dumped on them. If anything, they seem as excited by the perspective of an evening without their young master as Nie Huaisang is. It’s likely that both cabins will end up doing the same sort of things, drinking and looking at forbidden pictures, but at least this way young masters and disciples can all pretend that nothing inappropriate happened. As soon as he has everything he needs, Nie Huaisang leaves the cabin and heads for the Jiangs’ one.

It is impossibly thrilling to sit down with Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, past curfew (forbidden), ready to spend the night in their cabin (forbidden), with some wine and those artful prints (both extremely forbidden). They’re all three sitting on blankets that they threw on the floor. Well, Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng are sitting, still clinging to some vague illusion of propriety, while Wei Wuxian is lounging without a care in the world, refilling everyone’s cup with wine as often as necessary.

Giving up on being good is the best idea that Nie Huaisang has ever had in his life, and he’s so glad he’s found people ready to encourage him on the path to fun. Getting to meet these two makes it almost worth the annoyance of another year in the proximity of Lan Xichen. If not for the weekly meetings ordered by Lan Qiren, then Nie Huaisang would be quite happy with this situation.

When Wei Wuxian reveals that along with the wine, he managed to smuggle in some candies, Nie Huaisang decides that this is worth putting up with Lan Xichen. This is going to be the very best year of his life.

That sentiment lasts until the second cup of wine.

“So, you and Lan Xichen really don’t get along, uh?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Instantly, Nie Huaisang tenses. Well, he should have guessed. It’s never about him. And they were there when Lan Xichen came to pick him up for that stupid meeting they’re supposed to have, and Nie Huaisang didn’t think to hide his annoyance, and it must have been obvious that he cried, and now Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian will realise they can’t reach Lan Xichen through him, and…

“You can never trust the nice ones,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. “The better the reputation, the worst they act in private. It’s the same with Jin Zixuan honestly. He acts all high and mighty around adults, but when there’s nobody to see he’s a pest.”

Nie Huaisang chuckles nervously and reaches for his fan, although he doesn’t open it yet. “Right. Your sister too is engaged, uh? To Jin Zixuan… I mean, at least he’s not too ugly, and he has good cultivation.”

Both Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian groan in annoyance.

“Shijie says the same!” Wei Wuxian complains, nearly spilling his wine. “She’s always trying to defend him, even though he made her cry last time he came to visit. He said she needed to improve her cultivation before they got married or it’d be embarrassing him. Can you believe that?”

“Peacock,” Jiang Cheng hisses. “Like he deserves her anyway.”

Nie Huaisang nods, and feels himself relax a little though he still fidgets with his fan.

“It’s not like she can help it,” he says carefully. “I’ve not met her, but Mingjue says whenever he came to Lotus Piers, she gave him the impression of a very nice girl, very polite. And he’s not the sort to just say something nice without meaning it.”

That, it turns out, is the best thing Nie Huaisang could ever have said. The instant they hear their sister praised, the other two beam at him as if he’s just told them they’ve reached immortality.

“Your brother is a man of great tastes,” Wei Wuxian proclaims, downing another cup of wine. “You know what? We should work on breaking the engagement between Shijie and that peacock, and see if she can’t marry your brother instead. That way she’ll get a good husband, and your sect gets a good alliance, and so you don’t need to marry some stuffy old Lan kid!”

“Wei gongzi, don’t go tempting me,” Nie Huaisang sighs. “I can’t start dreaming like that!”

Wei Wuxian laughs, and pour some more wine for all of them while Jiang Cheng, by far the one who’s had the least to drink, watches Nie Huaisang like a hawk.

“So it’s not just an impression, you don’t get along with Lan Xichen,” he says. “We’d heard some of the disciples who came here last year say it, but I figured maybe they just misunderstood.”

Nie Huaisang hesitates. This alliance between Qinghe Nie and Gusu Lan is important, and while Yunmeng Jiang is friendly now, they have their own alliance with Lanling Jin, who in turn everyone knows would never have the guts to turn against Qishan Wen. It’s important to make it look like Qinghe and Gusu have strong links, it’s important to make it seem like his future marriage is as certain as the rising sun and the winter snows.

If it ever reaches Nie Mingjue’s ears, Nie Huaisang will blame the wine. But he’s decided already that he was done pretending, and for this too he can take a leap of faith, show a little courage. Politics are politics but he likes Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, who seem to like him back and… and it’d be nice to be pitied a little.

“Your sister isn’t the only one whose cultivation is deemed unsatisfactory,” he admits. “And of course, Lan gongzi isn’t wrong about me. I don’t have a great cultivation level.”

“But you have great porn,” Wei Wuxian retorts, as if somehow, that compensates the rest. “And you’re pretty fun to have around.”

“We wouldn’t have invited someone like Lan Xichen to come here,” Jiang Cheng agrees with a huff, as if it annoys him to admit that some people don’t, well, annoy him. “He’s got a good reputation for sure, and everyone admires him, but he doesn’t sound like someone you’d want to be friends with.”

Nie Huaisang grins, and sips on his wine to hide how giddy he is.

He’s really going to enjoy becoming friends with those two over the months to come.

#xisang #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #mo dao zu shi #worst engagement au #jau writes #next installements might take a little more time as I need to decide on stuff + I want to write on Burn it Down again

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pikapeppa · 5 years ago

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Cullavellan & FenHawke pirate AU: Rescue

Chapter 7 of Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me is up on AO3!!

In which Piper goes to Estwatch and finds Cullen in a bind. Literally.

Let’s all take a bow to @schoute, whose art for this week’s chapter is just... exceptionally beautiful. [sheds many tears]

Read here on AO3! ~7500 words. (Psst, did some of you guys miss Chapter 6? I didn’t do a Tumblr post about it because I sprung two chapters on Schoute unexpectedly... make sure you didn’t miss one!)

- PIPER -

The rowboat’s oars glided through the water with barely a splash. Piper crouched at the bow of the boat, her eyes narrowed at the shore as they glided closer to the southeast coast of Estwatch.

The navy sloop was anchored about a half-mile from the northwest end of the island. The make of their ship told Piper that she was expecting about thirty men in total: likely twenty actually on land, with the rest guarding the sloop itself. Here on the southeast beach, there was no one in sight, which was both a good thing and a bad thing. On the plus side, it meant the navy men wouldn’t see their approach.

On the negative side, it meant they’d have to travel some ways inland or around the periphery of the island before meeting anyone, and that meant being farther from their escape route.

No one said we’ll need a quick escape, Piper reminded herself for the umpteenth time. After all, this could just be a normal navy duty and not something suspicious. It was still possible that Piper and the crew would discover Cullen and his men doing something normal, like recovering some of the pirate loot that was stashed on this swamp-ridden dump so they could restore it to its rightful owners.

It was unlikely – extremely unlikely, if her gut instinct was anything to go by. But still possible.

“What is the plan?” Fenris said quietly.

She glanced at him. “We split up,” she said. “You, Sera, and four others will come with me; we’ll go along the eastern coastline. One archer and one swordsman will stay with the boat. Kaaras will take the rest along the western coast.” She turned to face the rest of her fifteen crewmen. “We’re looking for information for now, not to fight,” she told them. “Remember, gauge your actions based on Commander Cullen. If he’s fine, then don’t attack. Defend if they spot you, but don’t attack. If Cullen is in trouble, though…”

“Hit ��em where it hurts,” Sera finished. “Right in the dangle-bags.”

“Exactly,” Piper said. She looked at them all. “If nothing out of the ordinary happens, we’ll meet back at the boat in two hour’s time.” Two hours was about the time they would need to scout the island in full.

There was a murmur of ‘aye Captain’s, and Piper nodded in satisfaction before turning back to the island.

She idly ran her fingers over the pommel of her Orlesian épée. They would be pulling in to the shore in about two minutes. In two minutes, they’d be on the nasty island of Estwatch searching for Cullen to make sure he was all right.

In two minutes, after two long days of useless fretting, she’d finally be doing something.

Fenris spoke again, in a very quiet tone. “You will use caution when we find him.”

Piper shot him a sideways glance. “Careful, Fen. That almost sounded like you were trying to give me an order.” She smirked faintly to soften her words.

“I would not dream of it,” Fenris said dryly. “Not that you would listen even if I tried.”

“Damned right I wouldn’t,” she said cheekily. “Message received, though. You’d be sad if I died. Trust me, so would I.”

Fenris scoffed, and Piper grinned at him as the rowboat softly slid into the shore. She was the first off the boat, and she planted her hands on her hips as the others clambered onto the squishy sand.

“All right,” she said. She pointed toward the thick mangroves that covered much of the island. “Stick to the edges of the forest there for cover. If you’re spotted, try to hide rather than attack. If you have to attack, make them come to you.”

There was a general murmur of agreement. Piper turned to Kaaras. “Two hours,” she reminded him.

The lanky qunari saluted her with his signature boyish grin. “On my honour as a pirate, ma’am.”

She smirked at him, then jerked her head to Fenris and her handful of fighters, and they hurried toward the edge of the mangrove forest and slipped into the shadows.

Piper was utterly silent as she padded through the sludgy sand along the edges of the forest. Fenris and Sera were silent as well, though Piper noted with amusement that Fenris’s nose was slightly wrinkled as he padded through the mucky sand.

Piper smirked. “Your own fault for not wearing boots,” she whispered.

He sneered. “I don’t need them.”

Sera grinned and elbowed him. “Your face says ‘squish’,” she whispered. “Funny change from the scowl, that. Maybe get your precious feet dirty more often.”

Fenris pursed his lips and didn’t reply. Piper shot Sera a tiny smile, and they continued in silence for some time.

They made their way along the edge of the mangroves at a slow and measured pace, and Piper tried to ignore the buzz of agitation that was urging her to run. Much as she might not want to admit it, Fenris was right; their approach needed to be cautious. They needed to assess the threats so they could eliminate them with the minimum of losses, especially since this particular sortie was far from their usual acts of piracy.

Piper knew that rescuing Cullen was not her crew’s usual fare. She didn’t let anyone stay on the Lady Luck if they weren’t halfway decent people, but the fact still remained that they were pirates. Each of them had their own special reasons for being on the ship, but they also all shared two common goals: to escape the poverty or indignity of a ‘law-abiding’ life on land, and to provide for themselves. No one had signed up with the intention of altruistically rescuing handsome blond Commanders in distress. This little mission didn’t involve any kind of payout whatsoever, so by all rights, there was no reason the crew should be doing what she said.

She was lucky that the crew was so loyal to her and to the Lady Luck. It probably didn’t hurt that she’d promised to split her entire share of the loot across the crew for the next five raids, but still.

Really, if Piper sat down to analyze her own motives, there was no good reason for her to be setting out on this little rescue mission, either. Just as Fenris had warned, the risk was high and the payout was nil. But for Piper, being a pirate had never just been about the looting and the gold and the goodies. It had never just been about the sailing, either, though there was nowhere she loved being more than on the Lady Luck in the middle of the sea.

Being a pirate was freedom. Being a pirate meant giving people freedom. And if Cullen wasn’t one of the most trapped people Piper had ever met, she didn’t know who was.

He hid it well, with his firm commitment to duty and to keeping Kirkwall safe. And Piper knew that his commitments were genuine and heartfelt. But there was also a reason she and Cullen had become unlikely friends, despite their opposing lives and his deeply-rooted suspicion of pirates – a suspicion that had taken her multiple Kirkwall visits to start to melt. There was a reason he always took the time to chat with her, to hear her stories in jail and to hear her out when she had information to share.

Cullen was looking for a different perspective. He was seeking something different than the military life he’d always known. He might not have ever admitted it to her, but Piper knew him well enough to know this was true.

Cullen was a good man, and a lawful one. But unfortunately, what was law and what was good did not always line up. And based on their last encounter in the Chantry over a month ago, it seemed that Cullen was slowly – and painfully – starting to realize this himself.

“Listen,” Fenris whispered.

Piper stopped and held her breath. Sure enough, the sounds of voices could be heard up ahead along the beach.

They sounded to be about thirty paces away. The speakers weren’t in sight quite yet, shielded by the mangroves that were also hiding Piper and her companions from view. All she could tell from the voices was that they were stern, and there were more than one.

“Come,” she whispered. She, Fenris, Sera and their four companions silently moved closer until the voices became audible.

“I act on the authority of Admiral Meredith Stannard by proxy,” one unfamiliar voice announced. “I hereby–”

“You have no right,” the second voice interrupted angrily – a very familiar voice, and one that made Piper’s heart rate instantly spike.

Cullen. She pushed past Fenris so she could see, and her jaw dropped in horror.

Cullen was on his knees with his hands tied behind his back – the pose meant for criminals about to be executed. Eight navy soldiers were arrayed around him, alert but at ease with their weapons sheathed.

Cullen was staring up at his accuser: a grim-faced Navy man that Piper didn’t recognize, who was holding a piece of parchment in one hand and a heavy flintlock in the other. Piper listened in breathless horror as Cullen berated his captor.

“This is mutiny,” he railed. “This is utter injustice. This – it is a lie! You brought that blood lyrium on board! Meredith gave it to you, didn’t she?” He struggled against the ropes around his wrists and glared up at the Navy man. “I will see you imprisoned for this, mark my–”

The grim-faced man struck Cullen in the face with the butt of the flintlock.

The blood roared in Piper’s ears. She stepped out of cover with her own flintlock raised. “Hey, assholes!” she yelled.

All the soldiers turned to look. Behind her, Fenris muttered very quietly: “Venhedis.”

She shot the nearest soldier directly in the face, then the second closest soldier in the chest, then flung the empty flintlock into the face of the third-nearest soldier as he came running toward them. The officer stumbled back with a cry of surprise and pain as the flintlock bashed his nose, and Piper dodged past him toward Cullen.

Behind her, she could hear her crew yelling as they engaged the rest of the soldiers. Another soldier lunged at her with his sword drawn, but she dodged smoothly around him, slashing his back with her épée as she spun along his side. He stumbled at the cut, then lunged toward her again.

Their swords met with a clang of steel on steel. He shoved her back, using his weight to try and throw her off-balance, but Piper was well-used to such brutish tactics, and she was far more accustomed to fighting on sand than him.

And unlike honourably-trained Navy men, she had no qualms about using that sand.

She dropped to one knee, grabbed a handful of sand, and whipped the sand into her opponent’s face. He gasped and stumbled back, blinded, and Piper sprang to her feet and booted him in the chest. She delivered a vindictive slash to her enemy’s gut as she bolted past him toward Cullen.

He was slumped forward on his knees – still upright but barely, with his head hanging low. She darted a frantic look around the beach as she drew close; all the other soldiers were either dead or engaged with the rest of her crew; Fenris was fighting two men at once, silently as was his norm but with a vicious snarl on his face.

She skidded to her knees in the sand beside Cullen. Fuck, fuck, he was unconscious.

She grasped his shoulder. “Cullen,” she gasped.

No response. She swallowed the lump in her throat and shook his shoulder roughly. “Cullen,” she hissed, and she patted his cheek, noting idly as she did that his stubble was longer than she’d ever seen before.

He still didn’t rouse. She gritted her teeth, then pinched the juncture of his shoulder and his neck hard.

His head jerked up with a grunt of discomfort. “Wha…?”

Piper forced herself to breathe. “Hey,” she said. She stroked his cheek gently to make up for the pinch, and when he finally turned his head to look at her, she smiled.

“Hello, Golden Boy,” she purred. “Did you miss me?”

He stared at her, then blinked hard as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. “P-piper?” he said.

A slow, lopsided smile was lifting the corner of his gorgeous scarred lip. A nasty gash over his eyebrow was leaking a slow trickle of blood, and Piper’s heart swelled with an undeniable rush of tenderness as she wiped the blood away from his eye. Mythal’s mercy, he looked fucking exhausted.

“Captain Mad Piper, at your service,” she confirmed. She shuffled around behind him and grabbed her Rivaini dagger from the strap at her thigh so she could cut the cruel ropes around his wrists. “Come on, let’s get you–”

Someone grabbed her dagger-bearing wrist. “Got you, you knife-eared whore!”

She ducked down toward the enemy’s hand and bit it hard.

The man holding her yelped and released her wrist. Piper sheathed the dagger and grabbed her épée in the same fluid movement, and by the time her assailant lunged toward her again, she was on her feet with her sword raised.

Their blades met with a cacophonous clash, and Piper met her assailant’s gaze.

It was the grim-faced man who had struck Cullen unconscious. For a split second, Piper saw red.

She snarled as their blades slid apart, then lunged at him in a fit of rage. He parried her thrust and pushed her back, then lunged at her in turn.

She deflected his lunge and tried to wrest her blade away, but this man was larger than the others, and he pressed toward her with strong, hard swings and slashes. She backed away from him, deflecting his thrusts with both hands on her sword for extra support. The impact of each hit rattled up through her wrists, but she gritted her teeth and allowed the discomfort to fuel her fury.

The grim-faced man surged toward her, and Piper dropped swiftly to her knees to duck the lunge, then swept her sword up along his side as she rose to her feet behind him.

He stumbled, free hand flailing around to grasp his wounded side, and Piper bared her teeth. “Come along then, poppet,” she panted. “Try that again. I fucking dare you.”

He glared at her, his chest heaving for breath, then slowly and painfully straightened before lunging at her again.

Piper backed away once more, taking his slashes and lunges in stride to wear him out. When his flank and ribs were soaked in blood, she knew it was time.

He grasped his sword with hands and lunged at her with a desperate roar. Piper dodged aside and grabbed his wrist, then smoothly slipped under his arm and twisted.

Propelled by his own momentum, he flipped head over heels and landed hard on his back. Piper instantly kneeled on his chest, making certain to place a brutal pressure on his wounded side.

She leaned in close to his ugly, sweaty face. “When you decided to take me on, you forgot one very important thing, mate.” She grabbed her dagger from her thigh sheath and laid it lovingly across his throat. “I’m Captain Mad Piper.”

She split his throat with a swift slash, then spat in his choking face for good measure. Satisfied, she rose to her feet and ran back to Cullen, who was watching her with wide eyes.

She slashed his bonds swiftly, then helped him to his feet. “Can you walk?”

“I – y-yes, I’m fine...” He took a faltering step then stumbled into her, and she braced herself against his muscular weight with a grimace.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen muttered. “I’m – forgive me, I – my head…”

“It’s fine, you’re fine,” Piper panted. She wrapped her arm around his waist. “Come on, Golden Boy, let’s get you moving.”

A moment later, Fenris was at her side. “Piper,” he snapped. “There are more coming. We need to run. Now.”

“Fenedhis,” she cursed. “All right. How did we do?”

“Valorin is dead,” Fenris said bluntly. “Two others are wounded, but not badly. I sent them ahead to the boat already. Sera will cover our retreat.” He darted over to Cullen’s other side and took most of the commander’s weight.

“Damn.” Piper scanned the beach regretfully until she spotted poor Valorin’s body facedown in the sand, then glanced back at Sera. The archer’s ironbark bow was half-cocked, and she was doing a quick little shuffle-step to keep up with them as they hurried away.

“Wait,” Cullen said blearily. “Stop for a moment, I must–”

“There is no time!” Fenris barked. “They’ll soon be upon us!”

“Come on, Cullen, let’s go,” Piper said encouragingly. “I’ve got your back, it’s all right–”

“I should be armed,” Cullen snapped. He pulled his arm from around Piper’s shoulders and turned around, swaying slightly as he did. “I cannot expect – expect you to guard my back without…”

He trailed off, and Fenris rolled his eyes in total exasperation. “Fasta vass. Stubborn humans,” he complained. He shoved his own sabre into Cullen’s hand, then glared at Piper. “Get him moving. I will aid Sera.”

“Be careful, Fen,” Piper said seriously.

He nodded brusquely, then bolted toward the nearest dead navy soldier and started rummaging for weapons.

Piper turned to Cullen, who was adjusting his fingers around the bloodstained sabre. “All right, Golden Boy, you’ve got your big sword now. Want to show me how you can use it?” She wiggled her eyebrows and tried not to show her worry. Cullen might want to help, but Piper wasn’t sure how much help he would be when he was having trouble running in a straight line.

“There’s no need for concern, Piper, I am very… very well-trained in swordsmanship,” Cullen said tiredly as they ran along the beach.

She pressed her lips together. He hadn’t noticed the innuendo in her words or in his own reply. He really was off his game.

She reached out and took his hand as they ran. No harm in giving him a little extra support.

Before long, the rowboat was in sight, and Piper’s frustration mounted as she spotted Kaaras and his company fighting a handful of navy guards. Another of her people was dead on the sand, but Kaaras and the others had managed to take down more men than they’d lost.

“Come on, Cullen, almost there,” she said in the lightest tone she could manage.

“Is that your boat?” he panted.

“Yes,” she said. “Just have to fight off your little friends and then we’re home free.”

“If I may,” Cullen said. Then, to Piper’s shock, he bolted toward the boat.

Piper gaped at him for a split second, then darted after him. Before she could do more than pull out her épée, he’d slashed the backs of two unsuspecting navy soldiers with Fenris’s sabre.

Kaaras leapt back in alarm, then relaxed slightly as his eyes fell on Piper. “Captain,” he greeted, then spun on his heel to parry another soldier’s blow. “I’m ready to be well shot of this place, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she bit off. “Just need to hang on a minute for Fenris and Sera...” She glanced back in the direction they’d come, relieved when she was Fenris and Sera running toward them. But Sera was shooting arrows every few steps, which boded poorly; that meant the navy soldiers were still in pursuit.

She turned back to her crew, and her heart leapt into her throat. Cullen was on his knees once more, and a navy soldier was crouching beside him.

She ran toward him with her sword raised, but Cullen held up a hand. “Stop!” he yelled. “It’s all right, Piper, it’s–”

“It’s me, Captain Lavellan,” the soldier said hurriedly.

Piper stared at him, then lowered her sword. “Rylen? I didn’t recognize you without the goose egg on your forehead.” She darted another look around the beach. The immediate skirmish was done, leaving them with a handful of dead navy soldiers, two dead crew, and four injured.

Fenedhis, she thought angrily. That was more casualties than she’d wanted. No point beating herself up about it now, though.

She glanced over at Fenris and Sera, and was relieved to see them only ten paces away. “All right, crew, get your asses on the boat,” she barked.

Kaaras began swiftly helping the injured onto the boat as Fenris skidded up beside them. “There are more coming,” he panted. “We couldn’t hold them off.”

“Bloody shite-nut tit-heads,” Sera swore. “Waste of arrows, waste of breath!”

Piper grimaced at Fenris. There was a thin sheet of blood trickling from a shallow gash on his right shoulder. “Are you–”

“It is nothing,” he snapped. “Let’s move.” He grasped Cullen’s arm and hauled him to his feet.

“Easy, Fen,” Piper said warningly. “He’s hurt.”

“No, it’s – don’t concern yourself with me,” Cullen said soothingly as Rylen and Fenris helped him into the boat.

Piper wasn’t remotely reassured. His speech was slightly slurred, and his bloodied face wasn’t nearly as sweaty as it should be, considering what they’d just been through.

He needs water. Her anxiety spiked higher still as she looked desperately around the beach. Everyone was on the boat now aside from herself, Sera, and Kaaras.

“Sera! Get that tiny ass of yours on the fucking boat!” she barked. She jerked her head at Kaaras, and they began pushing the boat out into the sea.

Sera leapt from the shore straight onto the boat, and Piper and Kaaras hopped on board as well, and a moment later they were rowing their way back to the Lady Luck.

It was not a moment too soon. They were just over ten metres out from the shore when a handful of navy guards came running from the eastern side of the small island.

Piper sighed in relief. With every strong stroke of her crew’s oars, they moved another two metres from the shore. There was little risk of getting hit by a bullet from the average navy flintlock at this range.

She turned to face the crew. “Nice work, everyone,” she said. “We’ll celebrate the lives of our lost friends tonight. I’ll break open the casks of the good Tevinter wine.”

There was a general murmur of appreciation from everyone, including Fenris. Piper smiled at them, then carefully stepped over to the bench where Cullen was slumped forward with his elbows on his knees.

She smiled at Rylen as she sat on the bench across from them. “You’re lucky to be alive, Lieutenant. I almost cut you in half.”

“I appreciate the restraint, Captain Lavellan,” Rylen said dryly. “I’m glad to be alive. We both are.”

I knew something was wrong, Piper thought to herself. I knew it. But she couldn’t feel any satisfaction with her instincts when Cullen was looking this unwell.

He’d been silent since getting on the boat, and his head was hung low. With an ache of sympathy in her chest, Piper reached beneath the bench and pulled out a waterskin, then popped out the cork and offered it to Cullen.

“Here you go, Golden Boy,” she said softly. “Drink this. Slowly.”

He lifted his head and offered her a very feeble smile. “I can only pray that isn’t rum.”

She laughed. “Normal boring water, I’m afraid.” She gently brushed a stray curling lock of hair from his forehead. “Take it, you cheeky ass.”

His smile broadened slightly. He took a small sip from the waterskin and grimaced – likely from how warm it was – but he took another small sip, and Piper watched him carefully as she rifled under the bench once more.

He was so pale, and his pallor only served to highlight the dark circles under his eyes. She swallowed hard, then handed a second waterskin to Rylen before turning away to look at her crew. The injuries were relatively minor, it seemed; the worst of them was a shallow slash along the length of Loranil’s ribs, and Sera had somehow managed to get herself a black eye, but the others were looking relatively unhurt as they sipped from their waterskins and – yes, a couple bottles of rum. They seemed in relatively good spirits, despite having lost two men on the beach.

Fenris was rowing the boat with three others, and his slashed right shoulder was slowly leaking blood with every pull of the oar. Piper stepped over to him. “Here, let me do that,” she said.

He shook his head, and Piper frowned. “Fen, let me row the fucking boat. Go put pressure on that wound.”

He shot her an annoyed look, then relinquished the oars so she could take over. Piper sat on the bench and wrapped her fingers around the oar. “How many did we take down?” she asked.

“Eight dead, three wounded,” Fenris grunted. He pressed his hand to his wounded shoulder.

Kaaras grimaced. “Vashedan. It sounds like you ran into most of them. We took down five in total before you showed up.”

Piper pulled on the oar before shooting Cullen and Rylen a wry glance. “Hope you boys don’t mind us taking out your so-called comrades.”

Cullen silently rubbed his forehead, and Rylen replied. “I can’t blame you for your actions, seeing as you saved our lives,” he said. “Some of them were just following orders, Maker save their souls, but…” He shook his head. “Alrik and Varnell were dirty, that’s certain. I only wish they got their comeuppance.”

“They did,” Cullen said. “Piper killed Alrik. Fenris killed Varnell.”

She looked at him. His face was still half-hidden in his hand, and it occurred to her that maybe he was angry at her about the navy soldiers’ deaths. Some of them were surely just following orders, after all.

She felt a tiny pang at the thought that he might be angry, but she pushed it aside. She didn’t regret killing them. If she and her people hadn’t shown up right when they had…

A shiver ran down her neck at the thought. Those bastards dared to lay a hand on Cullen? She’d given them exactly what they deserved.

A minute later, they pulled up beside the Lady Luck, and a rope ladder rolled down the side of the ship. Piper watched as Rylen helped Cullen onto the rope ladder. Then she took Rylen’s arm and pulled him aside before he could climb the ladder himself.

“How did you get away from them?” she asked quietly. “If it turns out that you’re a double-crossing rat, you’ll get a blade to the gut, I promise you that.”

Rylen’s eyebrows rose, but to his credit, he didn’t flinch. “Cullen fought them so I could get away,” he said evenly. “They were ready to execute us both. Some trumped-up charge of treason.”

Piper gaped at him, then laughed out of sheer surprise. “Cullen? Treason? That’s–”

“Completely false, yes,” Rylen said. “Seems that someone didn’t like him poking around at things they’d rather leave untouched.”

“Is this about the blood lyrium?” she asked.

Rylen’s eyebrows rose even higher. “He told you about that?”

Shit, Piper thought. Cullen hadn’t told Rylen that she knew about the blood lyrium problem, it seemed.

But then that meant... That meant that Cullen had kept his promise not to tell anyone about the Darktown docks.

A fluttery burst of warmth filled her belly. She carefully bit back a smile and released Rylen’s arm. “I heard him mention it when he was yelling at those assholes back on the beach,” she said. It wasn’t a lie, after all.

“Ah,” Rylen said. He sighed. “Well… I’ll leave it to the Commander to decide how much he wishes to tell you of that. May I…?” He gestured politely to the rope ladder, which the rest of her crew had already clambered up.

She waved for him to go ahead, then followed him up the ladder and onto the deck. Most of the crew were milling around, sharing news and bustling around to get the ship ready to weigh anchor. Varric and Dorian were talking quietly nearby, and Cullen was sitting on a bench with Anders seated at his side, while Rynne was seated on another bench beside Fenris.

Cullen was staring at Rynne with wide, bloodshot eyes. His gaze darted to Piper’s face as she approached. “What is – why is – did you kidnap Lady Rynne?” he blurted.

Rynne burst out laughing. Piper folded her arms and wrinkled her nose. “Well, that’s insulting.”

He winced apologetically. “You’re right. I – I apologize, Piper, that was…” He trailed off, then flinched slightly as Anders dabbed the wound over his eyebrow with a clean cloth. “I am sorry. That was… rude of me to… Maker’s breath.” He gently waved Anders off and lowered his head.

Anders looked up at Piper with a frown. “He’s dehydrated and fatigued. He needs salts and fluids. And food. And sleep.” He scratched his chin. “Miracle he’s still conscious, really.”

He’ll get whatever he needs,” Piper said firmly. She turned to Varric. “Get someone to tidy up Valorin’s and Lia’s bunks. We lost them today,” she said softly. “Cullen and Rylen can take their bunks until–”

“No,” Cullen said suddenly. “I can’t, um. I… I would rather stay on deck, if it wouldn’t be an imposition.”

Piper frowned. “What? Why?”

Cullen ran a hand through his hair, which was starting to curl. Rylen took a small step closer to her. “The Commander has a… dislike of confined spaces,” he said quietly.

But most ships are confined spaces, she thought. Then she realized with a pang that this was probably one of the reasons he so disliked being at sea.

She crouched in front of Cullen and gently patted his knee. “Take him to my quarters,” she told Anders. “He can have my bed until he recovers. We’ll figure something else out later.” The captain’s quarters were spacious with large windows; Cullen would likely be comfortable there.

“No,” Cullen protested. “Piper, I can’t, I don’t want to impose–”

She rose to her feet. “You’re on my ship now, Golden Boy,” she announced. “You’ll follow my orders, or we’ll throw you overboard.”

He looked up at her, then sighed in defeat and allowed Rylen and Anders to help him to his feet, and Piper’s worry only increased. Cullen was usually so stubborn. To see him giving in so quickly…

She nibbled the inside of her cheek as Anders and Rylen took him away. Then Varric patted her elbow. “He’ll be fine,” he told her. “Anders will patch him up. In the meantime, uh… do we need to, you know, get out of here at speed?”

She looked down at him questioningly. Then Dorian spoke up. “What he means is if we should be worried about pursuit by that charming little navy sloop on the other side of the island.”

“Oh,” Piper said. She snorted dismissively. “No. We killed thirteen of their men on the island and injured three more. At most, they’ve got fourteen or fifteen able-bodied fellows left.” She shrugged dismissively. “They’re fucked. But let’s get moving anyway. This place is a shithole.”

Dorian snorted delicately. “I concur wholeheartedly. Swamps have never agreed with me.”

“You didn’t even come off the ship,” Piper retorted.

“I know,” he drawled. “Imagine how disagreeable I would have been if I had.”

Piper scoffed and pushed him back toward the officer’s quarters. Varric chuckled and wandered off toward the helm, and Piper turned toward Fenris and Rynne.

Her eyebrows leapt high on her forehead. Rynne was very carefully stitching up the wound on Fenris’s shoulder. More surprisingly still, he was letting her stitch him up. He only permitted Anders to patch him up when his wounds were quite bad indeed – which admittedly didn’t happen often, but still.

Piper’s eyebrows rose even further as she watched them. Rynne’s frowning face was a picture of concentration as she pulled a curved needle and thread through Fenris’s tawny skin. Fenris’s serious gaze, however, was not on his own wounded arm, but on Rynne’s face.

He glanced up and caught Piper staring, then scowled and looked away. Rynne looked up at his movement, then beamed at Piper. “Anders taught me how to clean and stitch a wound!” she said brightly. “He showed me how the human heart works, too! Fenris is my first patient.” She smiled proudly at him, then her smile faded into worry. “Maker, I hope this doesn’t leave a scar.”

He shrugged irritably with his left shoulder. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered.

The tips of his ears were pink. He wouldn’t look at her or Piper. Rynne, however, was undeterred by his mood; she pulled another careful stitch and smiled charmingly at him. “Well, if it does leave a scar, never fear. All proper ladies are fond of battle scars.”

“I suppose I am fortunate, then, that you are no longer a proper lady,” Fenris said flatly.

Rynne burst out laughing, and Fenris smirked very slightly before catching Piper’s eye and looking away again with a scowl.

Piper wrestled her face into a supportive smile instead of the smug smirk that wanted to spill across her face. She wondered how long it was going to take before Fenris admitted his fondness for their lovely new crewmate. He’d never before admitted to liking, well, anything.

“That’s great, Rynne,” she said. “Anders needed a good assistant. Considering how much blood we spill, we’re a pretty squeamish bunch when it comes to putting it back where it belongs.”

“Oh, I’m not squeamish at all!” Rynne said. “Not about the healing bit, at least. Now the spilling bit, however: that’s a different story. We’ll have to see what happens when a certain handsome master-at-arms finally starts teaching me some fighting skills.” She shot Fenris a pointed look as she threaded another stitch through his skin.

He rolled his eyes. “Fasta vass, Hawke, be patient.”

“Oh Fenris, haven’t you realized yet?” she purred. “There isn’t a patient bone in my body.”

He scoffed and looked away again. Rynne winked at Piper, and Piper smiled broadly at her before turning away.

“Weigh anchor in two minutes!” she bellowed to the ship at large. “We head for Llomeryn, and tonight, we drink to our fallen friends!”

The crew called their assent and their approval, and Piper strode toward her cabin, throwing a quick wave of thanks to Varric, who was manning the helm.

She slipped through the door to her quarters. Cullen was sitting on the velvet-upholstered couch with a stein in his hands, and Anders was standing over him with his arms folded.

He looked up and nodded at Piper. “Once he finishes that infusion, he can sleep,” Anders told her.

She nodded and squeezed his shoulder in thanks, then carefully settled herself on the couch beside Cullen.

Cullen looked up at Anders. “What is in this infusion?” he asked.

“It’s a mixture of beer, fruit juice, elfroot, and some melted beef fat from the dinner drippings,” Anders said.

“I see,” Cullen said slowly.

Piper poked his arm playfully. “Secret pirate recipe. Drink up. It’s good for you.” She looked up at Anders. “Does he have any other injuries?”

“Surprisingly few, all things considered,” Anders said. “Some scratches, some bruises that’ll be sore for the next week or so. It’s mostly the dehydration you need to worry about.” He folded his arms and eyed Cullen critically. “You’re lucky you’re not delirious, you know. I’d expect someone in your condition to be seeing dogs made of bubbles chasing their tails around a maypole made of wiggling caterpillars.”

Piper stared at Anders. “Well, that was a weirdly colourful example.”

“What can I say? I’m a colourful doctor,” Anders drawled. He nodded in approval as Cullen gulped down the last of his infusion, then looked at Piper. “More fluids,” he said. “Half a beer for every cup of water he drinks. I’ll check on him in the morning.”

“Thanks, doc,” Piper said. Anders tipped her a casual salute, then left her quarters and closed the door behind him.

Piper turned back to Cullen. He was slumped on the couch with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. He looked tired but relaxed, and Piper contentedly watched the slow beat of his pulse in his throat for a moment.

Then she cleared her throat and tore her eyes away. “I hope you’re not mad about us killing your navy mates today,” she said.

He lifted his head and opened his eyes, and Piper pushed on. “Maybe some of them were just following orders, but they were bad orders. No one should have to follow orders that force them to do bad things.”

Cullen licked his dry lips. “And if you don’t realize the orders are bad until it is too late?”

Piper shrugged, then kicked off her boots. “Usually I get a gut feeling right away if something is a bad idea or not. But maybe I’m just lucky to have great judgment.” She grinned at him and folded her legs up on the couch.

He smiled slightly, but his expression was sad. She sobered and tilted her head. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly. “Aside from the fact that your asshole comrades betrayed you and tried to kill you.” She grimaced. “Guess I just answered that one for myself.”

He chuckled softly, then ran a hand through his charmingly curling hair. “I am simply… astounded,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows. “By what?”

He didn’t speak for a moment. Then he met her eyes once more. “I did not expect to survive this journey,” he said quietly. “I… truly, Piper, I thought… I thought I was going to die on Estwatch.”

A chill ran down her back at the very thought. She shifted slightly closer to him. “What, you didn’t expect a dastardly pirate to come and help?” she joked gently.

“Truthfully, I didn’t expect anyone to help,” he said.

His voice was soft but matter-of-fact, and it broke her heart. To think he’d been on that awful island expecting to die, expecting no one to come to his aid even though he was just trying to do the right thing about the blood lyrium…

He sounded so resigned. Worse yet, he sounded so lonely.

She took his hand, but he spoke before she could. “Why did you come?” he asked. “In fact, I – how did you even know where to come?”

“Rynne told us where you’d been posted,” she said. “Her brother told her.”

“Ah,” Cullen said. Then his eyes widened and he sat up slightly. “Rynne. She – why is she with you? You didn’t say. Did she…” His eyes widened even further. “She ran away, didn’t she? But that means…” He frowned at her suddenly. “You returned to Kirkwall,” he accused. “Even though I warned you how dangerous it was?”

Piper laughed and ran her hands through her hair. “Oh please, when has a little danger ever put me off? All it does is add a little spice. A teaser, if you will.” She winked at him.

His cheeks went pink, and Piper grinned at him, pleased that he was finally noticing her innuendo once more.

He cleared his throat. “Well, I… that is – er.” He cleared his throat, then frowned at her again. “It’s not – you shouldn’t have… and to take a citizen of Kirkwall with you—”

“She’s not a citizen of Kirkwall anymore,” Piper interrupted firmly. “She’s a member of the Lady Luck now. Part of the ship, part of the crew.” She poked him playfully in the chest. “You could be too, if you wanted. I can always use a man of your… size.” She ran a salacious look along his body.

His face turned bright red. “A kind offer, but I… I don’t think… not appropriate,” he muttered. He rubbed the back of his neck and leaned back on the couch to close his eyes once more. “It’s a lot to think about, and…”

She chuckled. “It’s all right, Cullen. I was joking,” she assured him. Although now that she thought of it…

What if Cullen did join the Lady Luck? She knew he felt trapped, even if he couldn't admit it. She knew that someone important in Kirkwall was plotting to kill him. What if he did join her crew instead of going back to Kirkwall?

The thought of Cullen joining the Lady Luck spiked a silly little leap of excitement in her chest, but she forced herself to ignore it. Cullen would never join the crew. He was too rule-bound, too by-the-book. He might be willing to acknowledge Piper as a friend, but for Cullen himself to become a pirate…

It was too far-fetched. Best to keep her statement as a joke. She patted his shoulder and rose from the couch. “You really should get some rest. Now–”

He opened his eyes. “Wait, please,” he hurriedly. “I…” He swallowed. “You needn’t leave.”

A rush of tenderness filled her chest. He must really have been feeling alone these past few days if he was asking her to stay. “I wasn’t going to leave,” she said gently. “I was just going to tell you to get that handsome ass off the couch and into my bed.”

Once again, a charming flush spilled across his cheeks, and Piper threw her head back and laughed. “Oh Cullen, not like that,” she chuckled. Not anyway, at least, she added in the filthy privacy of her mind. “I just mean to sleep. You really fucking need it.”

“Oh,” he said blankly. “No, of course, I – but… er, no,” he blustered. “I – there’s no need. I will sleep here.” He settled back on the couch and yawned into his hand, then snugly folded his arms.

Piper frowned. “What? No. Seriously, you can use my bed.”

He shook his head. “Thank you, but no,” he said softly. “You have done more than enough for me. It would be dishonourable to steal your bed as well.”

She snickered. “Dishonourable? What is this, some kind of duel between Orlesian chevaliers?”

He didn’t reply. She looked at him quizzically.

His eyes were closed, and his face was relaxed. He was asleep. In the space of about three seconds, he’d fallen asleep.

She bit her lips to stop herself from laughing, then tiptoed over to her bed and picked up one of the many woven throws. She carefully arranged it over Cullen’s sleeping form.

He didn’t move. Piper tiptoed around the room, fetching a quill and a pot of ink and the captain’s logbook before settling on the couch beside him to keep him company in case he awoke.

She carefully tucked her feet up on the couch, then opened the logbook and prepared to write about the day’s events. Then she remembered that she hadn’t answered Cullen’s question: his question about why she’d come to Estwatch in the first place.

She admired his sleeping face. His breathing was deep and slow, and his colour was already looking better, though she suspected it would take more than a single night’s sleep to wipe away the dark rings beneath his eyes.

The truth was that she’d come to Estwatch for the same reason that she kept coming back to Kirkwall. She carefully shifted the captain’s logbook to the floor, then edged closer to Cullen’s peacefully sleeping form.

“I like you, you handsome silly human,” she whispered. “Very much, in fact.” She leaned in and gently kissed his cheek.

He sighed quietly in his sleep. When Piper pulled away, there was the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips.

She smiled to herself. She smoothed a lock of golden hair back from his forehead, then settled back on the other side of the couch and picked up her logbook.

Cullen would probably want to be dropped back off in Kirkwall once he’d recovered. But for now, he was here, and she would enjoy this time with him while she could.

For now, Piper would enjoy a moment of peace with her Golden Boy.

#cullen #cullen fic #cullen rutherford #pirate au #where the winds of fortune take me #piperford #cullavellan #cullen/lavellan #cullen x lavellan #fenhawke #fenris #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenrynne #pikapeppa writes #schoute draws #pikascout

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stars-and-rose · 6 years ago

Text

|Heart Point| Chapter One

Is Emily staring another story when she already has like eight others planned?

You fucking bet!

This AU is a collab between me and @planetkookie ! Kai is an absolute Queen! She's the one behind all the amazing art in this AU (you can see the character designs if scroll through my account, or search the tag #heart point au!) She'll also be writing one-shots when she feels inspired too!

Meanwhile, I'm writing the main fic!

Notice: I own none of the characters in this! Vance and Cassidy belong to Aphmau, and the boys all belong to Thomas Sanders!

The general plot and some dialogue belong to Aphmau as well

Without further ado....

Fandom: Thomas Sanders/Sanders Sides

Pairings: Logince, (Eventual) Prinxiety, (Eventual) Logicality and (Eventual) Remceit

Summary: In which Roman suffers through a break-up and proceeds to accept a gift- which probably wasn't a good idea.

Word Count: 2892

Trigger Warnings: Break-up, Fainting, Cursing because I cannot contain my potty mouth, not anything really severe this fic is very fluffy

next>>

Chapter One: When momma said "Don't accept gifts from strangers," she might of been on to something

"You're breaking up with me?"

Roman could not believe this was happening. He loosened his grip on the hot chocolate he'd been drinking; the hot liquid had turned bitter on his tongue. He stared at his boyfriend, who wasn't making eye contact with him.

"That's, um, a way to put it. Definitely." Roman's boyfriend, Vance, still wasn't meeting his eyes.

"Definitely a way to put it or definitely breaking up with me?" Roman's voice still had the tiniest bit of hope in it. Maybe he'd heard Vance wrong. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions, a skill he was fantastic at.

"Both?" Vance finally raised his eyes and they met with Roman's. Vance's blue eyes were filled with apprehension, sadness, and something that looked suspiciously like pity.

Meanwhile, Roman was trying not to cry, his green eyes scrunched with his effort. "Oh."

"Ro?" Vance's voice was soft. "You okay?"

"Did I do something wrong?"

Vance shook his head violently. "Do something? Are you kidding? No, no way! You've been an awesome boyfriend-"

"But you're breaking up with me?" Roman blinked a few times, desperate not to cry.

Vance let out a sigh. "Yes."

"For Cassidy. On the track time." Roman's voice gained a bit of an edge as he spoke.

"Heh… I see word travels fast." Vance grumbled, looking away again. Roman covered his head in his hands. Little tears were starting to fall down his face and he'd be damned if he let Vance see them.

"You're dumping me for Cassidy on the track team?" Roman's voice was muffled, and Vance sighed.

"Oh no… Roman…I'm sorry… please don't cry…. Ro come on, we're in public."

"Crying? Who's crying?" Roman lifted his head from his hands, eyes a bit red.

"Roman…."

Roman let out a laugh that held no humor to it. "Why would I be crying, I'm an adult, thank you."

"Don't call yourself an adult when you have stickers all over your face."

It was true, Roman did have stickers on his face: two gold stars, one on his left cheek and the other near his right eyes. It was one of many ways Roman showcased himself to the world, and he was proud of it.

"I can have stickers all over my face and handle my boyfriend breaking up with me three weeks before prom because that’s what adults do!" Roman's voice grew louder as he spoke, drawing attention from the people around them. Neither boy cared. Roman loved attention and Vance was used to it, due to Roman's dramatic flair.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Vance's voice had become soft again.

"Absolutely."

That had been twenty minutes ago.

Currently, the same boy who'd said he was 'absolutely' okay was sobbing on his bed with his best friends arms around him. Patton always smelled like cookies and vanilla and the smell was a comfort to Roman.

"Oh, Kiddo, breathe, just breathe it's going to be okay." Patton soothed, rubbing the taller boy's back as he continued to sob. He looked around at the other boy in the room. "Remy, we're going to need more tissues."

"How did I end upon tissue duty?" Said boy huffed, walking across the room with the tissues in his hands and his signature sunglasses pushed back.

"You were compelled by the ancient right of friendship!" Patton told him, before turning his attention back to Roman. "Here you go! Just take one-"

Roman proceeded to bury his face into the box.

"Or do that whatever works for you!" Patton looked back up. "Remy, we're going to need ice cream! Double-chocolate chunk, stat!"

"Now I'm on ice cream duty?" Remy sighed, crossing his arms.

"The power of friendship. It compels you!" That, or the fact Patton was starting to get into extreme dad mode, and that was a sight no one truly wanted to see.

"Gurl, I have track practice in fifteen minutes and if I don't get a coffee between now and then I am going to lose it."

"Vance..is on the track team! And so is Cassidy!" Roman instantly went back to sobbing at an even higher pitch than before. Patton winced.

"Oh my goodness, can we not bring up Track for now? Vance just dumped Ro-"

"-for Cassidy Stevenson?" Remy interrupted. " From the relay team? Yeah, I know. Cassidy hooked up with Vance at the post-meet and greet last week and then proceeded to spill everything to Alexandria Waters who is such a big mouth and told me- why are you looking at me like that?"

"You knew about this?" Patton growled.

"Um, yes darling I pride myself in knowing all this school's gossip-"

"You knew about this and didn't tell Roman?" Patton yelled, reaching over-protective dad mode, his eyes blazing as Remy took a step back.

"Hey, I didn't want to trigger that!" Remy waved his arms at Roman, who was still managing to cry even though he had been doing so for almost a half-hour now.

Patton sighed, backing down. "Fair. Ro, kiddo, how we doing?"

"They're probably warming up together wearing those stupid short- shorts! Vance looks good in stupid short-shorts! Why is running even a sport anyway? It's just walking a little faster!" After his stunning contribution, Roman went back to the tissue box.

"Okay, that's my limit, I'm going to get myself coffee and go to track." Remy flipped down his sunglasses. "But, Roman? Forget about him. You're perfect just the way you are."

Roman wasn't feeling that perfect- his eyes were red from crying and his throat burned. "Even with stickers on my face?"

“Especially with the stickers. Okay, hon? Okay."

"Okay." Roman agreed softly.

"I'm going to go. AND IM GOING TO SMOKE DOWN THAT UNGRATEFUL STICKERLESS ASSHOLE FOR YOUR HONOR!" Remy cried out, exiting the dorm with a whoop!

"Yeah, Remy! Be our Prince's knight! Roast him! With butter! And organic peanut butter!" Patton cheered.

"Thanks, Remy," Roman whispered as he watched his friend leave.

"See, Ro? Everything will turn out a-o-kay!"

Then, the door swung open. "My apologies, I got here as soon as I could, by which I mean as soon as the scholastic decathlon mixer wrapped up-" Despite his breathing making it sound like he had run to the dorms, Logan still managed to look as professional and orderly as ever. Patton gave him a quick smile.

"Took ya long enough! Ah, don't look so guilty Lo, I'm joking."

"Is he okay?" Logan asked, scanning the room for their usually over-the-top friend. "Where is he?"

Patton simply pointed to Roman's bed, where the boy had wrapped his arms around his legs and curled into a ball. He had finished sobbing, but a few stray tears slipped down his cheeks. Logan walked over to him and bent down.

"Hey Roman," Logan whispered softly, knowing by now how to deal with Roman after the brunet had a meltdown. None of his usual big words- that would only make Roman feel stupid and in turn make him feel worse "I had planned to save these for your birthday, but I got you some stickers…"

Roman looked up, his green eyes brightening the slightest of bits. "Stickers?"

"Yes, Ro. They have little crowns on them."

"Crown stickers?" Roman mumbled, his voice rough from his sobbing.

"And they're glittery too."

"Glittery crown stickers?"

"Mmhmm. All yours." Logan gently put the stickers down on the boy's knee. Roman instantly snatched them and turned around.

"Hey now, staying in your dorm and putting stickers on your face isn't the best thing for your mental health-"

"Huh?" Roman turned back around, one of the glittery stickers placed above Roman's nose.

"Oh Newton, ah, let's go for a walk. Fresh air and sunlight are proven to help increase mood." Logan helped Roman up and flashed Patton a nervous smile. "I'll take care of him, don't worry Pat."

Patton flashed him another smile, and Logan saw how Patton was exhausted. Dealing with Roman's meltdowns happened to have that effect on people. Logan knew in a single glance that Patton needed a break from his roommate.

Soon enough, Logan managed to drag Roman outside. "See, Roman? Don't you feel a little better with the sunshine?"

In response, Roman let out what sounded like a hiss."The vitamin D is infecting me."

Logan gave the other boy a small grin, happy that Roman had a least remembered one thing from science. "Then it's doing its job."

"Why am I outside?" Roman whined. "I could be covering my notebooks with pretty crown stickers and crying until the sunsets."

"Hey, hey, no thinking like that. It will only decrease your already unhappy mood. How about we head down to the café, get some smoothies? The fruit in them will make you feel better."

Roman crossed his arms. "Vance dumped me at the café."

Logan paled but immediately responded. "Okay, so I'm going to get us smoothies from somewhere that is most definitely not the café, okay? You stay here and take a moment to relax, okay?

Roman nodded, "Thanks, Lo. You're the best."

Logan nodded and turned away, hoping he had succeeded in hiding his growing blush from the other male. "It's okay, Ro. It's not a problem- it never is, not for you, you being a very good platonic friend." Smooth. Logan quickly walked away before he could embarrass himself.

"I appreciate it," Roman called out after him, a small smile forming on his lips.

"He likes you." Roman jumped and spun on his heels. A boy was standing on the fountain behind him, his heterochromic eyes meeting Roman's

"Holy goth boy batman- where did you come from?"

"The fiery pits of hell." The way the boy said it, so deadpan, Roman wasn't exactly sure if he was kidding.

"Really?"

"No, I just got out of band practice." The boy said, rolling his eyes. Roman huffed.

"Oh, cool." Roman knew his boy, he just couldn't be a finger on the name… aha! "You're Damien, right? I think we have home ec together?"

"Yup, you're the boy with the stickers."

Roman nodded. "My reputation proceeds me. I'm Roman."

"Roman… I've heard a lot about Roman recently." Damien looked him in the eyes again. "You just got dumped."

Roman winced. "If I did, it was for reasons completely unrelated to stickers."

Damien laughed. "I'm sure. How are you holding up? A broken heart is no small matter."

If he was honest, Roman was surprised that Damien, a boy he'd had about three conversations with, was concerned for his well being. "Me? I'm totally fine! Some people just can't handle me!"

Damien looked unimpressed. "Your eyes are red and your voice keeps cracking."

"Hmpft."

The other boy sighed from his position on the fountain. "You don't think Vance was in love with you?"

Roman huffed. "I never know! People are so annoying! They all lack the ability to communicate properly and show affection- I wouldn't know if someone liked me if they came up right behind me!"

"Roman!" Roman turned on his heels and saw Logan peeking out a doorway. "I'm aware that your favorite smoothie is-" Logan proceeded to spell out Roman's overly complicated order. "-but is there anything else you need? They have red velvet cupcakes? With rainbow sprinkles? I know that's your favorite."

"Oh, that sounds amazing! Here, I think I have a few dollars-" Roman started to rummage around in his pockets.

"Not necessary, Ro. It's on me."

"Oh, really? Are you sure?"

"Affirmative." Logan ducked back into the café, and Roman turned back to Damien, who had jumped off the fountain and came closer to the brown haired boy.

"Can't show affection?" Damien grumbled.

"Mmhmm! As I was saying, Humans? Brick walls. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. They wouldn't know how to show lo-"

Damien stared at Roman like he was having a hard time processing what Roman was saying. "Riiiight. I think I might have something for you that will help your current…predicament."

"Huh?"

Damien pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, pulled something off it and stuck it to Roman's cheek. It was another sticker, this one a rather large red heart.

"Damien? Did you just give me a stic-"

The other boy gave him a smile. "Abracadabra."

Then, Roman proceeded to faint.

.....

Processing...

Welcome New User

Welcome to HEART POINT

.....

Roman's thoughts were murky as he started to wake up. What had happened? He had been talking too that senior- Damien!- and Logan had gone out to get smoothies and cupcakes- so why did it feel like Roman was laying against his bed?

Patton's voice woke him up faster. His best friend sounded really worried? Had Remy gotten hurt at Track? Had he found out that Logan still was staying up late studying? Roman opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. So he was in his dorm.

"Should we take him to the nurse?' Patton fretted, and from what Roman could hear, was pacing.

"For what, a broken heart?" That was Remy.

Roman sat up and groaned, directing both boys’ attention to him. "Kiddo! You're okay!" Patton ran over to his bed and helped Roman up. "You gave us quite the scare, fainting like that! Logan had to carry you all the way to our dorm."

"Yeah, babe, he was really freaked. Totes unusual for him." Remy took a sip of his drink.

Roman squinted at his friends. There was something off here… oh, wait… that was new…

"Why are there stars above your heads? And that's a heart?" There were indeed stars and hearts above his friends' heads: four gold stars floating over Patton's, and three gold stars and one red heart over Remy's. Roman blinked a few times, but the images were still there. In the corners of his vision, he noticed something else. In the bottom left corner, there was a red and gold circle with the words: Roman, Level One cutting through it. In the top right, was a similar circle with the words: Dorms and Evening cutting through it.

What was happening?

Remy looked up but apparently could not see that floating images above his head. Patton looked two, and at the same time both boys muttered, "Oh, Roman.."

"And what's with this border thing? I'm on level one? What?" Roman shook his head a few times, trying to shake it off. "It's all around my vision- I can't get rid of it!"

"Ro, calm down! You probably hit your head when you fainted, It's okay." Patton, on his tippy-toes, placed his hands on his friend's shoulders. "Breathe, okay?"

Roman nodded and took a few, long breaths. The stars, heart and the weird border were still there.

"Roman, hun, we good now?" Remy asked. Roman simply nodded, even though he was most definitely not good.

There was a knocking on the door, and Patton removed his hands and went to answer it. "That's probably Lo! He went to get you some ibuprofen!"

Sure enough, it was Logan, carrying a little bottle in his hand. "Roman, I see you've woken up. You had me nervous for a bit there."

"Nervous isn't the word I'd use," Remy mumbled into his drink.

Roman sucked in a breath. "Logan?"

"Yes, that is my name." Logan turned to Patton. "Is he okay?"

Patton sighed. "It's been a long day, we're going to cut Ro some slac-"

"That's a lot of hearts." Roman blurted, because, in fact, floating over Logan's head were three gold stars and four red hearts.

"Hearts? Roman, do you require-" Logan continued to talk, but Roman subconsciously blocked him out. He raised his head to his cheek, and it rested on the sticker Damien had given him: the red heart.

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anon-e-miss · 6 years ago

Text

Intransigence 4

Sooo... I forgot about this... Have some more...

Survival protocols burst through the static, and Prowl was instantly in motion. Outnumbered three to one he had no real hope of fighting, that left flight. Clearly they had not expected him to be functional and as the Praxian sprang up from his back, he caught them off guard. Before they could react, he leapt over the barricade. It was the exact same spot where he had pulled that half-clocked operative over, this was unlikely to be a coincidence. He ran as soon as his peds hit the road below. Blaster fire kicked up pavement where he had been standing less than a nanoklik earlier. Though the bulk of his training had been in pursuit and capture, Prowl was well familiar with evasion, and he ran under the overpass, using it as shelter from the projectile and laser fire. With precious little time, the Enforcer came up with a plan. Using his martial arts training, he scrambled up the support. His attackers scrambled down the overpass several nanokliks, perhaps even a klik after him. Unlike them, Prowl knew his enemies, there training and their weaknesses. Garboil and Nightstalker had tested poorly for their athleticism, their frames were built for strength, not for speed or aerobatics.

“He’s gone!” Garboil called.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” A voice called from above their helms. Barricade was the only other Praxian Enforcer in Iacon, and Prowl had worked with him very briefly at his posting in a precinct on the west side. His presence offered more questions than answers. Prowl had found him to be aggressive, and insubordinate, his involved in this scrap was not startling. The next nanoklik there was another clatter of armour as Barricade leapt off the overpass, and the cool helmed Praxian froze. Unlike his friends, this Spawn of Unicron was athletic and quick. He was also considerably more heavily armoured that Prowl. Calling for back up from the Enforcers would be a fool’s errand, there was no way to know who else might be in league with these three. Instead, Prowl initiated his comms and entered that operatives ID. Static was the only answer he received. That shock stick must have fried his comms, Prowl was on his own.

“He’s gone,” Nightstalker said. “Look.”

“You dumbafts, he can’t just’ve disappeared,” Barricade snapped, and he stalked under the overpass, and out the other side. “He has to be here! How could you fraggers have lost him? H’uh?”

Prowl only had nanokliks to act. As quietly as he could, the Enforcer shuffled along the support structures of the over pass until he reached the edge. Barricade stalked back, cursing his quarry’s designation under his ventilations. With the other Praxian just metres below him, Prowl was forced to freeze. The other two were too close, jumping on Barricade would be reckless, and suicidal, and the slighter Praxian was neither. Not even daring to ventilate, Prowl waited until Barricade stalked off again, waited for him to stop and snarl at Garboil, and then he made his move. He swung from underneath the overhang, and began to quickly climb the side. Just before the tactician could make it safely over the side, blaster fire scored his leg. A damage report flashed across his HUD, Prowl ignored it, despite the sparks, he transformed successfully and raced at full speed back down the highway.

Rather than the precinct, he raised full speed for the Autobase. Someone could comm Autobot Jazz. If they would not let him on base, at the very least they would not let him get shot... in theory. First, however, Prowl needed to get there. His tactical systems displayed a path. Barricade and the others were unlikely to continue their pursuit into the bustling downtown where the bars, clubs and streets were filled with mechanism, a high number of whom would be Autobots, and armed. Taking the next left, the Praxian demanded another burst of speed from his frame. The laser fire that had scored his leg had damaged one of the main cables there, in his altmode it served as part of the support for his undercarriage. It was weakened, it could snap. He only had a nanoklik’s warning before a crushing weight smashed against his hood. A well aimed elbow triggered his transformation sequence, and as the Praxian was forced to violent transform, that cable snapped.

“You put up a better fight that I’d thought,” Barricade sneered against his audials. Prowl felt a nose of a blaster pressed against the back of his helm. “Not good enough...”

With a quick slash of his servo, Prowl knocked the blaster away from his helm, it went off, the sound so loud the tactician’s audial buzzed with static. To their right there was a scream of pain, Prowl did not pause to consider who might have been shot. Barricade was off balance, the smaller Praxian used that to buck the mech off. He rolled and true his rifle all in one motion and levelled it at his attacker. Over the other Praxian’s shoulder Prowl saw Nighstalker writhing in pain, Garboil was nowhere in sight. If the mech had any sense, he would be making his escape, but the damaged Enforcer could not know for sure. His frame ached from the forced transformation, never mind his leg, but Prowl did not allow it to distract him. Half on his chassis, and half on his knees, and arms outstretched, Barricade’s blaster was pointed away from Prowl. They were so close, however, so close that if the slighter Praxian was not quick on the trigger his attacker could still make the drop on him. As Barricade watched him from the corner of his optics, Prowl wondered which of them would break first.

“Drop your weapon, or I will shoot you,” Prowl ordered. “If you so much as ventilate, I will shoot you.”

“I just might shoot you first,” Barricade hissed, false bravado to the end.

“Have ever been hit with an acid round?” The tactician asked. “Even if my first shot fails to kill, the acid will continue to eat away at you circuitry.”

“Frag you,” the other Praxian snarled, but he dropped his blaster, but it was still within arm’s reach. Nighstalk’s whimpers stopped. Prowl was fairly sure he was dead.

“Servos behind your back,” Prowl ordered. Still snarling, Barricade did as he was ordered. He must have expected Prowl to close the gap to cuff him, his frame was tensed, ready to react, but to his misfortune, his smaller compatriot was not an idiot. “Do not move.”

Rather than inch forward, Prowl inched back, never taking his rifle or his optics off the other Praxian. There was no doubt in his processor that Barricade had other weapons, a shock stick at least, and almost certainly other blasters. With his leg crippled, Prowl would not risk attempting to secure the larger Praxian, so long as he kept his distance, their stalemate was in his favour. Prowl waited, completely silent. Surely someone must have heard the gunfire, and yet there was no sound of sirens, no bystanders, nothing but silence for what felt like an eternity. Ped steps echoed down the pavement, and Barricade lunged forwards; Prowl fired. The other Praxian screamed in pain as Prowl’s should hit him high in the back. Twisting around, awkwardly, and rifle still raised, the Enforcer faced this new threat. He found himself staring down a hulking red mech with a very large gun, and the Autobot insignia embossed in the centre of his chassis.

“Now what the frag’s goin’ on here?” The mech demanded over Barricade’s increasingly garbled howl. “Enforcers havin’ a shoot out wit each other?”

“Bit more complicated than that, ‘Hide,” Jazz jogged up, and he brushed the far large mech’s weapon down. “This one’s ours... Sorta.”

“Ya got ops in the Enforcers now?” Hide, as Jazz had called him, asked.

“Nah,” the operative replied. “Reinforcement’s comin’ can ya check the fragger o’er there? See if he’s scrapped?”

“Yah, fine,” the Iaconian said. “In the streets Jazz? They’re gonna have fun wit this one.”

“I have a neutralizer,” Prowl offered, having lowered his gun when Jazz had arrived on scene. He cocked his doorwing at Barricade. “If the damage is not too grave already.”

“Hand it over,” the Polihexian replied, and Prowl did exactly that. Jazz dumped the vial into the gaping would between Barricade’s shoulders. His vents were still wheezing, there was a chance he would live yet. “Don’t look like y’re goin’ anywhere under y’re own steam.”

“No,” the tactician confirmed. “The cable in my leg has snapped. There is one other on the lose. Garboil, one of the Enforcers at my precinct. He, Nightstalker and Barricade attacked me in the same spot as I pulled you over.”

“Same spot Nightstalker liked to pull over his victims,” Jazz replied. “Fragger’s consistent.”

“Was,” Hide corrected. “This one’s scrapped... Not an acid round.”

“Barricade shot him in error,” Prowl explained. “He intended to shoot me in the helm.”

“‘M sorry I brought ya into this, Prowl,” the saboteur said as he examined the prone Enforcer’s leg, and then the rest of his frame for additional injuries. “Didn’t expect ya to be a target.”

“I was already a target,” the Praxian replied. “They had a plan, Barricade appeared in command of the ambush. He is assigned to a different precinct. The fact that you requested copies of their schedules yester-cycle, and I was attacked this mega-cycle are merely coincidences.”

“Flatfoot maybe?” Jazz asked, as he his digits brushed against the burn out wires at the Enforcer’s side. “You outta lay down ‘til the medics get here.”

“I am fine,” Prowl replied, the other mech’s touch was light enough that it barely hurt. Still, the burn from the shock stick was beginning to throb in time with his spark. The pain only temporary, the injury was grievous. “It is possible he could be involved. Though it strikes me as an overreaction to my criticisms.”

“Unless he had somethin’ to do wit this slag, ‘n he’s afraid ya gonna figure it out,” the Polihexian replied.

It was a possibility. Prowl had no respect for the Praefectus, thinking the mech an egotistical PR hound, but he had never considered that Flatfoot could actually be corrupt, certainly not on that level. If the Polihexian Enforcer was involved, he no longer had Prowl to worry about, but the Autobots, which meant if their was something to Jazz’s suspicion, something would be done about it, an Autobot commander was not so easily ignored he himself would be. That was a more frustrating thought than the Enforcer would have expected, so far as he was concerned, it should not have taken an arm of the army to address the dysfunction in Iacon’s Enforcers, it should never have gotten this bad. Even if Flatfoot was not involved, he could not be entirely innocent. There was a reason the Praefectus personally managed Nightstalker and Garboil’s schedule, though he did not know what it was.

“Flatfoot personally wrote the schedule for both Nightstalker and Garboil,” the Enforcer said, and finally thinking of that dataslug, he opened the hidden compartment in his arm. “I believe he did the same for other Enforcers, in other precincts, but I do not know for certain. I have the records you wanted... here.”

“Smart,” Jazz hummed. “Not the sorta trick I’d expect from an Enforcer.”

“When I decided I was going to leave my in-laws’ compound, I to find a way to save credits,” Prowl explained. “I was not permitted to work at that point, or to even have my own accounts, though I had an allowance meant to spend on Smokescreen. Every quartex I transferred some onto an unlisted credit chip. I had to hide it, so I fashioned this compartment.”

“Slick,” the operative said, approvingly.

“How was it you found me?” the Praxian asked. All of a sudden he was looking up at the stars. Jazz supported his helm as his back made contact with the grown. He frowned, he was fairly certain he had not collapsed, no this mech had herded him and he had not even noticed. Before Prowl could sit back up, purely in defiance, Jazz pressed a firm but gentle servo against his chassis.”

“Better safe,” Jazz declared. “Burn that deep means that shock stick weren’t standard issue, ya shouldn’t’ve gotten up after.”

“I have strong survival coding,” Prowl replied. “Again, how did you find me?”

“That shock triggered the slug’s recovery signal,” the Polihexian explain. “I tracked it, ‘n ya. Ya got some moves.”

“It could have gone better,” the tactician replied. Sirens blared in the distance, and Prowl could not help but sigh, Smokescreen was not going to be happy about this.

#intransigence #ficlet #maccadams #tf jazz #tf prowl #miss writes

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thunderingstormsart · 6 years ago

Photo

@fallenhero-rebirth

I finished these somewhat recently and I’m really not liking them, but I guess they’ll be my first post on my empty ass art blog. I can’t draw humans and there’s so many anatomy issues 😭but hey, I’m trying to learn so that’s something.

This is my Sidestep Dimitri Sol and his puppet Eden Moriah. Dimitri looks grumpy here but he’s actually a very playful jokester. Also, Dimitri’s face is entirely based on Liam Samuels but I might not have done a great job of replicating that ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Fallen Hero: Rebirth is my favorite Choice of Games book (my favorite piece of written fiction, in fact) and I’m deeply in love with the universe surrounding the story. I’ve followed it since it was first introduced on the COG WIP forum I think three years ago, and it has remained close to my heart since then. Dimitri has been such a dear character to me since I first played the demo for Rebirth.

Under the cut is a ridiculously long info dump about Dimitri. Warnings: Spoilers for Rebirth and the Retribution demo. Brief mentions of self-harm and panic attacks.

General:

Dimitri is a mixed race gay trans man. He’s charismatic and humorous, though how he presents himself depends on if he’s around people he trusts or not. Around strangers, he’s reserved, talks less, and tends to observe and watch everything and everyone around him. He’s a bit flighty around strangers as he honestly expects them to turn on him at any moment, whether in a violent way or not. Around people he trusts, he’s rather high-spirited and playful. He likes to tease people and get under their skin in a friendly way (even though some people, like Chen, don’t see this as friendly). He is an unintentional flirt with everyone and doesn’t even notice (which makes him a massive hypocrite because he gets extremely jealous and petty when Ortega does the same exact thing). However, someone expressing legitimate love and affection to him would completely fluster him. He turns into such an embarrassed mess. When he’s hurt or angry he attempts to use humor to mask it but sometimes the anger can lead to him making cruel and rude jokes in an attempt to hurt the person that hurt him. When he’s truly upset or has a panic attack he tends to curl up and hide himself away. Being in a small, hidden corner somewhere puts him at ease, especially if someone he trusts is with him and is holding him and helping calm him down.

As a tactician, he prefers to leave the front-line fighting to others. He’s more of a thinker and planner than a fighter.

He’s good with technology. He’s very creative and loves to tinker with tech. He’s a massive fucking nerd someone please beat him up.

He has the sugar vice and as such has a massive sweet tooth and finds sweet food very comforting. If he wasn’t poor and was actually willing to spend money on his own happiness he’d constantly buy sweets non-stop.

He agreed with Ortega that he should see a therapist and desperately hopes she can really help him. Even though he doesn’t have the suicidal Heartbreak scar and isn’t suicidal, he has self-harmed in the time after Heartbreak as a form of punishment, though this habit lessened after Ortega found him. He tends to forget to care for himself, such as not eating enough or sleeping adequately (though that particularly is more of a very conscious attempt to avoid his constant nightmares). Since meeting Ortega again, he has gotten somewhat better about taking care of himself. He’s poor and refuses to spend more than the bare minimum on himself, preferring to keep what money he has for Eden or his goals. This results in him neglecting himself.

He doesn’t understand why anyone would, or could, fall in love with him since he sees himself as unworthy of love. He views himself as a broken mess and a poor knock-off of a real human. It just confuses him how anyone can care about him in any positive way, friend or lover. Regardless, he is quite greedy and craves love and affection, affection-starved disaster that he is. Despite being paranoid about people touching him and finding out about his tattoos, he is BIG on physical contact. He’s incredibly tactile when he’s with someone he trusts (he and Ortega are two peas in a pod).

Relationships:

Ortega and Anathema were very close friends with Dimitri. The three were troublemakers and constantly terrorized the rest of the Rangers with their antics. Anathema’s death really hurt him and is the subject of many of his nightmares. He also blames himself for Anathema’s death. He viewed him like a big brother.

His close friendship with Ortega quickly turned into a romantic relationship. The two pick back up in Rebirth. Ortega sappily calls him “Mi Sol” (ironically, someone in the Fallen Hero Discord apparently also has a Sidestep that Ortega calls that because of their name). He will deny it to himself, but Ortega is the most important thing in his life and he can’t stop himself from loving him. He accidentally love triangled himself with Eden by being too much like his flirty self around Ortega whenever he’s Eden.

Since coming back, he has tried to get closer to Chen and really tries to help Chen get a better understanding of him. He does like to tease him, though (God help Chen when he discovers that he’s had a big crush on Ortega, the teasing will never end). He will end up in a polyamorous relationship with Ortega and Chen, once he and Chen stop being dumbass gay disasters with each other. Ortega is already done with their inability to communicate like functioning humans.

Dimitri respects Argent as a powerful and intelligent fighter. She may not think much of him yet but they can probably bond in their love of sweet food and their habit of stealing everyone else’s food. His flirty nature got Argent to crush on his villain persona, which confused his gay ass.

The way Herald treats him confuses him, particularly his genuinely nice disposition towards him and his admiration for him, not to mention poor Herald’s crush. He trains him to be a better hero (honestly Herald, you are embarrassingly easy to beat up) and he is finding himself actually liking the kid. He has like a hundred nicknames for Herald (Barold is probably his favorite) and loves to fluster him. It’s amusing to see how embarrassed he can make him.

He and Dr. Mortum have a close relationship and Dimitri considers him a close friend. Around Mortum, he’s much more natural and true to himself, which shocks him as he didn’t expect to like Mortum this much. He loves to nerd out with Mortum in his lab.

Yes, he has flirted with all of the Rangers and Dr. Mortum (and will flirt with any other characters if it’s an option). Please stop him, he doesn’t even mean to do it most of the time.

He does his best to be respectful of Eden’s body as he still sees him as a person, albeit one that won’t wake up, as opposed to an empty shell or a tool. Eden’s body simultaneously relieves his dysphoria and worsens it. While it makes him feel good to be in a body that isn’t branded as nonhuman and better fits how he sees himself, it also reminds him that he can’t ever really be like that. That he can’t ever get rid of his tattoos and likely won’t get an opportunity to surgically transition. Regardless, he does like the freedom that Eden’s body gives him that he just doesn’t have in his own body. As Eden, he more often than not is exactly like he usually is as Dimitri but with much more confidence and without the self-hatred, anxiety, and paranoia. How he is as Eden is essentially how he’d be if the Farm didn’t fuck his mental health.

Villainy:

Dimitri sees his fall into villainy as inevitable and uncontrollable. He has convinced himself that his friends would only try to stop him and that being a villain is the only way he can accomplish his goals. Additionally, he hates that he can’t stop himself yet he continues down the path of villainy as a form of subconscious self-punishment.

He named his villain persona Revenant as he has come back from the dead, in the eyes of his friends but also since he escaped the Farm, which he views as a real Hell on Earth. The Farm may have tried to kill who he is but he still clawed his way back out. I chose the name Revenant because of that and because the “Re” prefix fits the naming scheme of the series and cause he’s a Re-Gene. We hoard all the “Re”s in this household.

He chose the mysterious armor style and has the speed and telepathy upgrades. He’s very a speedy and sneaky fighter. Since Dimitri loves the drama of a cape, he chose to have a hooded cape.

He’s not a particularly good villain as he won’t kill people, excluding anyone associated with the Farm, and actually enjoys helping and saving people. Still, he couldn’t do what needs to be done as a hero or a vigilante so being a villain is his only option.

Ortega is suspicious of Revenant because he fought him like he personally knew him and was hesitant to finish him off or severely hurt him.

He’s on the anarchist path and aims to destroy the power structure of the corrupted government.

Dimitri has the revenge Heartbreak scar and will do anything to destroy the Farm. As stated before, he will eagerly break his no kill/harm rule to get back at anyone associated with the Farm. He would be incredibly violent and draw out their pain, taking a sick pleasure in torturing them. Deep down, that sadistic side of him would honestly terrify him but he would try to convince himself that anyone that helps the Farm deserves it.

On a lighter note, Dimitri sees his fellow Re-Genes as his siblings and family. He wants them to be able to have the freedom to be individuals and people. If he had to choose between helping his fellow Re-Genes or getting revenge on the Farm, he would instantly save his siblings, as much as it would crush him to not get back at the Farm.

Fun facts:

Dimitri has a guitar pick on a leather cord that he wears around his neck. The pick was a gift from Ortega sometime after they started dating. Ortega gave the pick to him for Valentines Day after playing a song for him and said “I pick you,” which flustered the hell out of Dimitri but touched him nonetheless. He left the necklace behind in Ortega’s home with the rest of his non-mission stuff during the Heartbreak fiasco. Ortega kept it and wore it after Dimitri’s “death”. It was a major comfort item for him. He gave it back to Dimitri when he came back.

He’s 6′ 1″. Ortega teases him since he’s one inch shorter than him and it absolutely bothers him enough to make him wear heeled boots so he can be taller. Eden is 5′ even and it absolutely drives Dimitri mad. Being so short hurts his brain. His villain suit makes him much taller at 6′ 9″, seeing the taller Rangers being so short makes him extremely happy.

He really liked Anathema’s piercings and was always curious about them when he first met him. After he expressed an interest in getting pierced, Anathema went with him to get pierced and he got a helix piercing in his right ear, a lobe piercing in his left ear, and a tongue piercing. After he gets top surgery he’ll get a ring piercing in his right nipple.

Eventually, he’ll get a blue lightning bolt tattooed on the back of his neck for Ortega. If Ortega can finally commit to a tattoo, he might get a sun for Dimitri on the back of his neck. Who needs wedding rings when you can have ink beneath your skin dedicated to your significant other? Chen doesn’t seem the type to get tattooed and I can’t figure out anything to represent him so he’s left out of this headcanon for now >:T

Blue is his favorite color. It’s the color he chose for his suit as Sidestep, is the color Ortega and the Rangers use (blue being associated with his friends), and is the opposite color of his tattoos. It’s a color that brought him a lot of happiness. On the other hand, orange is his least favorite color. He hates it. It’s a bad reminder of his tattoos. As such, he’s grown to instinctively hate the color.

#My Art #Dimitri Sol #Eden Moriah #fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero spoilers #COG #uhhh #self-harm tw #just in case #why the fuck did i write so much about this dumbass #if youre wondering why the art is on lined paper #its cuz thats what i draw on 99% of the time #my dumb anxious brain thinks im gonna waste art paper if i draw on it and mess up

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