#mindlessly sketched for fun for the first time in forever and it felt so good

[cranity]

Trigunning

[husbandohunter]

Moments of Despair #2 [Genshin Impact/Albedo x Reader]

Synopsis: "The alchemist who relished in his gifts only to fall from grace."

(A series of works where the boys deal with the passing of their beloved).

Diluc’s despair

Warnings: angst, tragedy, major character death and psychological horror (correct me if otherwise)

(A/n): I decided to take a slightly different approach this time. Regardless, it’s still killing my heart TwT.

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Out of the many wonders of Teyvat, one thing Albedo loved most was how you were so different from him. 

Difference ties to the unknown, one that must be discovered. He was drawn to you the first time he had laid his eyes upon your form standing at the heights of Mondstadt's cathedral. The Sisters scolded you from below, but all you did was reply with a wink amidst their chaos before soaring into the skies and letting the wind carry your glider. Reckless they said. For him, your recklessness was intriguing. 

As the sun's light blinded his vision, everything he saw seemed like a glass barrier. For the ground was where he thrived and chalk was his core, it became the basis of Albedo's very existence. Even the geo Archon granted him a Vision of the same element to affirm his identity. The earth will forever be attached to his feet as he will keep on his stride until every last truth of Teyvat have all been realized. You, on the other hand, hailed from a place where he couldn't quite reach. What lies beyond this glass ceiling? Albedo found himself gradually holding onto a string of curiosities, a string he could touch but was not able to feel. 

'Interesting,' he thought quietly, while the breeze slip between the fingers of his outstretched hand. 

He was a character of logic, possessing sharp eyes that could pierce through the depths of the most complex formulas and a mind to predict their outcomes-  as long as alchemy was still related. All impossibilities thrown in his way only paved a path for him to become the well known genius he was now. Whether it was alchemy or  investigations with the Knights of Favonius, Albedo never failed to deliver the answers. But despite it all, he always found himself endlessly contemplating over things that were considered intangible. He wonders why you smile when there was nothing to laugh about. How could you tell between the complexities of the human heart? Albedo can't seem to put a finger on it. 

'Why? What drives you? What are you thinking?' 

The Chief Alchemist couldn't resist being fascinated by your unpredictability. It reels him in similar to a fish being baited out of the waters. However, unlike those creatures, Albedo only tightened his grip on the strings as if they were a lifeline, determined to find out what they truly felt like to the touch. 

"I can't really say it's much of an answer," you hummed, clasping both hands behind your back before declaring with a grin, "To put it simply, you just gotta follow your heart."

'Follow your heart...' What does it mean to follow your heart? 

"I'm afraid I still don't understand," he replied in a thoughtful manner. The statement never really resonated with him and it certainly weren't the words his Master taught when he was in the early stages of being created, "But it does suit you very much." 

"Really? But still bring your head with you," a playful laugh escapes and you add while pointing a finger, "At least, it's what everyone tells me these days." 

"Hm," Albedo then affirms with a nod, "I can definitely see why they would tell you that." 

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" 

The days go by and his repetitious march towards the truth remains the same. However, there was never a dull moment when you were at his side. Perhaps that was the reason why Albedo became so attracted to your aura. The way you'd follow around his experiments, eyes so full of enthusiasm at every step of the activity. Sometimes the events can get a little too out of hand in which he needs to step in and save you from getting stuck in slime condensates...constantly. Albedo grew fond of your childlike excitement even when you weren't entirely sure what was going on. He normally distanced himself from socializing as it never sparked his interest. Frankly, he was too much of a genius for mundane conversations. Your presence was rather refreshing in this case. You were an oddball, just like him, and for once the alchemist felt like he didn't need to place that glass barrier between the two worlds. 

"You seem to be in a very good mood today Mister Albedo." 

He was a man of subtle expressions yet anyone could notice the small gleam in his eyes whenever he saw you walking in the hallway. Sucrose often remarked with a giggle after she noticed her teacher holding his documents upside down. But who could blame him? Joy, fun, laughter. He was able to experience those emotions all because of you; his beloved. You were the colour to his canvas and the meaning to his flower. You were a force of nature. Like a warm breeze gracing upon the terrestrial lands, you move him. 

Thump- thump- thump- 

Strings around his world began to weave one whole picture while they also tugged inside his chest. God had finally blown the breath of life into mankind's body, it was only a matter of time before Albedo came to follow his heart too. 

-------- 

"Alright, just one more detail aaaaand done!" 

You gave a small tap using the tip of your pencil and leaned back to examine your artwork. 

Masterpiece! 

On days when Katheryne had no commissions assigned to the guild, Albedo would accompany you to the Whispering Woods and conduct his sketches there instead. He was aware of the discomfort Dragonspine brought as the temperature wasn't ideal for anyone except for him. You eventually learned that your lover was not only intelligently different from the rest but physically too. Albedo, aside from the Cavalry Captain, was mysterious in his own way. He was hard to read yet never came off as intimidating, no one knew of his origins nor they knew how he came to Mondstadt. You wondered why someone like him would have wanted to get involved with your shenanigans. Rosaria often gave warnings regarding the alchemist's 'hidden intentions' in which you'd roll your eyes in response. The Albedo you knew was far from that. He was a big brother to Klee, a man passionate about his work, he was the one golden star among the many silvers in your sky. He was your lover. 

My Albedo. 

Brushing a hand upon the drawing you made of him, you glided down the lines of his cheek before resting your finger on the mark by his neck. You gazed at it with fondness. Truly a masterpiece indeed. 

"You do realize I'm still here?" 

The paper nearly flies out of your grasp and you snatched it back to your chest, "HUH A-ALBEDO, WHEN DID YOU APPEAR???" 

"I was with you the whole time," he states. The corner of his lip tug upward ever so slightly, "You said you wanted to sketch me." 

"A-Ahahaha, so I did," you reply while scratching your head bashfully. 'I thought I was looking at a sculpture!!'  You rushed to cover your face with the sheet. It wasn't that you forgot he was there, rather, you forgot he was still a living and breathing specimen who just witnessed your little serenade. As Lisa had once said, Albedo was easy on the eyes. His graceful features made him seem almost like an oil painting that could only be found in  halls of the most prestigious households. You made sure to capture everything, every detail, every curve just like he had done with your portraits. Only now you noticed the sun already began its descent below the lakeside, dusting the landscape with hints of bright orange as it marked the day's end. If only time could slow down. But duty calls upon your next journey and there was no telling when you'd return. At the very least, a simple portrait would suffice to fill in the temporary gap of his absence. 

"Can I see it?" 

You glanced his direction while keeping the drawing close to your nose, "Are you sure about that? It might not be up to your expectations." 

"I'm sure," Albedo affirms with a straight countenance, "I can already tell you've put a great amount of effort, otherwise you wouldn't have taken this long." 

"Yeeaahh I kinda lost track of time. I guess it's only fair that you get to see the finished product," you say and shoved the drawing in front of him, "Tada! I present to you, my masterpiece!" 

Albedo takes it out of your grasp and you watched the way his eyes expanded upon sight. 

"Well? Whaddya think?" 

Words could not describe the mixture of emotions that erupted within him. Was it distinguishable or abstract? Albedo spent his time pondering between the two answers as he examined the drawing closely. Despite the lines being slightly jagged and the unevenness in the placement of his eyes, he managed to make the shape of the entire image you were trying to convey. Perhaps it was all thanks to his well trained artistic vision which gave him the ability to do so. Or maybe he was simply biased. But there wasn't a shred of doubt that this was indeed your craftsmanship. 

"You even added flowers in the background," he pointed out with amusement. 

"It's the thing you make when using your elemental burst, I couldn't fit your hand in the picture so I decided to put it somewhere empty," you informed, "Out of everything, that one took me the longest." 

"And the rabbits?" 

"They resemble Klee's bombs!" 

He lets out a chuckle, "I see." 

Albedo kept his attention downward until he was mindlessly staring at the paper in hand. This was a memory made to be carried as you moved on to your next journey and it saddens him that he could not accompany you. If only time slowed down. Albedo wanted to hold onto the memory forever, because he knew once he gave it back, he wouldn't be able to see you for an uncertain amount of time. 

"Do you really have to go?" 

His voice was barely above a whisper. Guilt crept into your heart and you gingerly layed your fingers on his gloved ones, bringing down the paper that blocked his face. A pair of teal orbs held a reflection of your image as the sun's rays casted from the side. You returned it with a reassuring grin, hoping to soothe his worries somehow, "I just need to pay a visit to my father since he's been very sick lately. I'll be fine, so don't worry too much okay?" 

Albedo turns over his palm and gave your hand a squeeze, "How long will it take?" 

"I'm not sure but it will be a while. Snezhnaya is pretty far so..." you trailed off, "But my time in Mondstadt, with Klee and with you, I will never forget! I won't even if I tried." 

When you were met with no answer, a breeze came in to fill the melancholic silence. He too will not forget and he would ensure that it was the same for you. Slowly, Albedo brought your hand up, past the center of his heart all the way to cupping his cheek. He allowed himself to indulge in your warmth, tangling the strands of his hair with your fingers while closing his eyes. Sweet flowers. You always carried the smell of sweet flowers. 

"Albedo?" You gawked, "What's the matter?" 

"...There are certain aspects where drawings can't imitate,"  he says, grip tightening ever so slightly, "How I feel against your skin, the shape of my jaw, your warmth radiating with my own. These are the things I want you to remember." 

Breath leaves your slightly parted mouth. It was unfair how straightforward Albedo could be when showing his affection. Doing as he pleases without anyone's approval to the point it would even catch you off guard since he often absorbed himself in the arts of alchemy. But during times when Albedo did choose to express his feelings, you knew they came from a place of pure genuinity. The thought made it hard for you to tear away from him, "Did you ever find out what the strings felt like then?" 

Albedo returns his gaze, long golden lashes hovering them as he smiles softly, "...I have." 

As he began to reveal his stories, the dusk sky continued to flare across the landscape with colours of passion. Red, it was the thread that had led him to you, the same string that weaved him together as a whole. Albedo lays a kiss atop of your pinky, there was a reason why Mondstadtians called him the Chalk Prince. You didn't know the intention behind his sudden affection but he knew. It was a promise, one to ensure that the thread would also have you return safely back into his arms. 

Oh how he hated the colour red. 

"Al...bedo..." 

With speed he never knew he had, Albedo scoops you into his embrace and held you close. How did everything happen so fast? He curses his mind as it proceeds to scan your injuries, drawing a conclusion where he wished to be wrong for once: 

You were beyond help. 

"Ah..haha..." you managed to laugh through bitter tears, "You don't have to say it. I know." 

His breath hitches, trying to make sense of the feeling that was slowly tearing him apart from the inside. It's not real. Of course it wasn't, it couldn't be. What other possible answer was there to explain the numbness stinging his fingers? The reason for his shaking? Everything felt so cold. Your body hardly registered to his to touch, you were losing so much blood. You were losing. He was going to lose you. 

"No," Albedo shakes his head, "We still have time. I'll go find help." 

Please, hold on. 

He forced himself to think. The ruin hunter ran off shortly after it had ambushed you, by now the Knights would eventually noticed and apprehended it on sight. They couldn't be too far. All he needed was to carry you back to safety and everyone can go home. Albedo darted his eyes all over the place, breaths becoming shallower with each passing second. Where? Where to go? Which route was best to not overexert your wounds? Think. Think. Think. Why couldn't he think? 

"A..." You watched him in your helpless state. Every part of you throbbed with pain but it pains you even more to see the renowned genius who stood atop the pedestal of elegance and grace so utterly, undoubtedly lost. This was not the goodbye you wanted, though death already had you tight in their grasps. Not yet. Using the last particle of your strength, you tried to stay alive as long as possible. Just a little bit more time. 

Albedo freezes when a trembling hand extends itself to cup around his cheek. Every single thought he had in mind vanished and was replaced by a loud ring resonating in his ears. Dreadfully, mechanically, he turns his attention to where you lay. 

"Don't cry," you whisper, "I love you, don't cry- okay?" 

Albedo grimaces, shutting his eyes closed as he allows the pent up sadness to flow out of him completely, "I can't," he said in a shaky voice, "Please. Stay." 

"I'm sorry," Your vision blurs and he hugs you even more. Drawing your final breath, you relay your most cherished words through a broken smile, "But no matter w-where I go...I won't for..ge.." 

The moment your hand fell, Albedo finally understood the difference between death and loss. 

It was...suffocating. Having the air trapped in his throat, begging to release yet it hurts to speak. The never ending stabs that pulsed within his veins rushed forth like the scraping  blizzard of Dragonspine until his whole body lost all its senses. The world was shattering. He could no longer feel your weight. He could no longer feel. 

(Y/n). 

Albedo glances at his blood stained fingers where the thread had been severed, wide eyes drowning in sorrow. What a horrible feeling. Was this a warning sent by the gods? For stepping into the boundaries of knowing too much? Ah the curse of knowledge man must bear when eating the temptatious fruit. It was the result of choosing to love you. With life, death is inevitable and with love, it will eventually bring pain. Everything had a price to pay and as an alchemist, Albedo knew that better than anyone. 

"...Meaningless..." 

But he refused to accept it. 

Cradling your corpse, he leans in and places a kiss on your forehead, lips quivering as they lingered for a second too long before gathering the strength to stand back on his feet. Nothing will stop the alchemist from reuniting with you. If the laws wished to take you away from him then he will use everything in his power to fight against those laws. 

"This is not goodbye..." Albedo said to the sleeping girl, "And it will never be." 

When the sun sinks below the plains and the stars lose their light, the sky had been replaced with a palette of darkness. It was time to go home. 

------ 

"Have you all heard about the rumours?" 

A group of knights gather in the corner as they whisper about. Sucrose stops on her tracks and hides behind a wall, clutching the book close to her chest in an attempt to stay hidden. 

"Another criminal disappeared from the dungeons? Crazy..." 

"More like creepy. I was told that place might be haunted by some dead prisoner's ghost. Even the Church is hopping onto this case." 

"Well I hope it doesn't get any worse. So many of us started going on night patrols..." 

Their voices faded out of range as the anemo user backtracks her steps carefully. Several months passed since the news of mysterious kidnappings have been announced to the public. Rumours of their whereabouts swirled around the city and much to her discomfort, Sucrose happened to catch every single one of them. There couldn't possibly be evil spirits lurking in the Favonious Headquarters right? She silently shrieks at the thought, shaking her head furiously to stop her mind from going too deep. No, I have to find him. Without wasting another minute, the anemo user sprinted towards the stairs all the way up to the second floor before stopping directly in front of her teacher's office. Despite the adrenaline that occured at the same time, she made sure to knock. 

No answer. 

"Strange, he told me he would be here today..." Sucrose muttered to herself. But suddenly she heard the sound of objects shifting from the otherside, signaling that there was indeed someone occupying the room. Without realizing, she held her breath out of anticipation. 

"Come in." 

The door creaks as she opens them, giving her enough space to slip between the gap, "Mister Albedo?" 

"You're early today," The Chief Alchemist noted from his desk, "Is there something the matter?" 

"Y-You mean you don't know? There was just another case about a person disappearing from the dungeons," Her tone became more frantic as she rambled to herself, "The kidnapper never leaves a trace and no one knows how they were able to get out. Even when we ask the guards what happened, they can't seem to remember as if...as if someone casted a spell on them!" 

"A spell?" He inquires, "I suppose that could be a possibility." 

"I think so too. I-It's the only explanation that makes sense! I mean...ghosts don't exist after all," Sucrose nervously looks down at her shoes while giving her book a squeeze, "But why? Who could be capable of such advanced techniques? No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to understand their intentions." 

"...Yes. It is a very strange occurrence indeed." 

Noticing her teacher's withdrawn attitude, Sucrose couldn't help but feel flustered at her own behaviour, "Ah my apologies Mister Albedo, I didn't mean to go off track. Have there been any progress on the investigations so far?" 

Albedo briefly glanced at the various documents splayed across his table. His reputation as an incredibly intelligent individual had reached far and wide through Mondstadt. This led to the authorities requesting his assistance regarding the recent matters, despite him specializing in the alchemical field, he was also the Captain of their Investigation Team. Although, Albedo detested partaking in things he deemed irrelevant to his research; 

"I'm afraid I would need more evidence to draw a conclusion." 

"Eh? You still need more?" 

He could not deny that the given authoritative position had provided much benefits to his own accord. 

"My expertise lies in the subject of alchemy," Albedo reasoned and proceeds to intertwine his fingers in front of his mouth, "Humans on the other hand, are very unpredictable in nature. Even the essence of their existence is hard to obtain." 

"Essence of their existence?" Sucrose repeated softly. She wanted to ask what he meant but the blank expression was evident  enough to signal his impatience. At least, that was what she thought, "Nevermind! I have something that might help," taking out a slip from her textbook, she handed it to him, "It's the report Captain Kaeya gave me. He said that the culprit might be a traitor coming from the Knights of Favonius." 

He narrows his eyes. 

"I-I think he might be right! Just think about it, we haven't found anything at all for the past few months but when we do, I sometimes feel like we're just running in circles...oh what if it's becau-" 

"Sucrose." 

"Y-Yes?!" 

Albedo calmly looks at the flustered girl, not realizing how sharp his tone was, "You're overthinking again. Perhaps it's best that you take this day off." 

"But I came here to help," she insisted, "I know it hurts to lose someone you love! Don't you understand that we're all worried about you? And Klee, she..." 

"..." 

"Please Mister Albedo, if there's anything I could do-" 

"No need," he cuts her off once again, "Your stress levels are too high. We can't go any further if you continue to act like this." 

"Oh," her ruby eyes casted to the side, "I understand..." 

"Good. Now, if you would excuse me," Albedo bid her farewell and watched as the door clicked behind her, observing every detail until he was sure that the absolute silence had returned. He picks up Kaeya's document. Such remarkable handwriting. But of course, appearances are only meant to be displayed on the surface for the Captain was a sly man, wearing a mask to shield what lies underneath. Just like his letter, they were full of innuendos and condensed meanings, orchestrated together until the truth spoke loudly to Albedo himself. 

"So, that's what he thinks." 

Perhaps the alchemist should have been a little more discreet. 

-------- 

There was a certain place in Dragonspine that no one dared to enter. But those who have, they never return. 

"Hm, no response. Now as for the next step..." 

And he was the reason why. 

Taking the sword out of the transmutation circle, Albedo turned to the snowy hill nearby and activated his alchemy. A small portion of it dissipates, revealing a trench that went so deep underground that even warmth couldn't outplay the sheer cold. It was the perfect hiding place for the evidence to lay out of sight and an environment where only he could handle. The alchemist tossed the leftover along with the others before exiting quietly, summoning back the ice to bury his victims once again. Another day, another experiment, another stain goes to his title. The path he walked upon was one littered with corpses and the sins he committed. But despite the bones crunching beneath his feet and the weight of the dead hanging on his shoulders, the alchemist was numb to it all. Like an entity floating in space with nothing to hold, he became unable to feel. 

"I'm back," When reaching the center of Starglow Cavern, Albedo puts his hand on the icicle and caressed it's hard cold surface, "Did you sleep well?" 

The girl did not respond. Her eyes were closed and her skin was as young as ever. She was frozen in time. 

"You must have." 

Albedo felt the sword beginning to shake in his grasp as it resonated with his energy. Dust particles emitted from the hilt and slowly made their climb to the side of his arm. Still, Albedo's attention did not waver, "To this day, I've been thinking about what you told me the first time we met." 

"..." 

"Follow your heart. I couldn't understand it at first but after being around your presence, I believe I can finally recognize what that term means." 

He closes his eyes as he envisioned your lively form running across the landscape. Albedo, Albedo! The sound of his name was mixed with your laughter while Klee came into the scene and caught the dandelions with you. A content smile formed on his countenance as he watched from afar, even if it was just a memory, "It's everything. The breakfast we ate together, to the nights spent camping outside, and the silly moments we shared, they bring all these colours that I never knew existed." 

"..." 

Albedo curls his fingers against the ice as he continues to lament, "Perhaps that's why I began noticing the strings around me. The closer I was to answer, the more I felt it was necessary to discover what they are. All this time, you were the answer I was searching for," Moist begins to build up in his eyes but they freeze up once reaching the corners. How cruel. Despite what he went through, he wasn't even granted the liberty to cry, "Because with you, I'm able to feel them." 

He wonders what you would think if you saw him right now. Albedo peers at his reflection casted on the crystalline surface, the frame of his face had been decorated with streaks of purple and red, spreading out like tree branches as they both fought for dominance. The teal coloured orbs you once adored were beginning to transform to a colour that reminded him of his darkest days. This was Albedo's true nature- a monster, a being that wasn't human, the essence in which you never had the chance to see. 

"I know I may not be the same as I was before," he added, "But if that is what it takes to follow your heart, will you let me feel the strings again?" 

Would you still love me the same? 

"..." 

"If so, then please understand my actions," Albedo takes a step back as he held out the sword in front of him. At last, the preparations have finally been completed. He plunges the blade to the ground with full force and the surrounding area begins to shake under the power accumulated through many, intentional sacrifices. To revive the dead was a forbidden art as it came with heavy consequences. If it weren't for Albedo's talent and quick wit, the process would have consumed him long before executing the last stage. He winces, the pain was excruciating. It was hard for him to ignore the sound of his skin cracking below his ears and all the way to his nose as they fall off in the shape of small rock-like chunks. Everything hurt so much that even death sounded like a sweet dream but Albedo couldn't afford to give up. He had already come this far, his hands completely washed with sin and his reputation already broken beyond repair, Albedo had nowhere else to go. This was his last destination. 

"Soon-" he pants between choked breaths. Soon your eyes will open. He could drown in your embrace, one that was warm and not cold. Soon he will be able revive those cherished memories from a frozen past. It was all he could think of right now. Your existence was the reason why a part of him felt whole and your death made him realize how painful it was to tear away those pieces. Albedo refused to let go of those pieces, they had already become a part of him. And if this path ended up tearing him even more, then so be it. 

"I should have stopped you the moment you were born." 

The intruder snapped him awake and he swung around to where they stood. But before Albedo could make out who it was, they lunged past him with incredible speed, kicking the sword off the ground while severing his two arms once and for all. They flew to the side, blood dyed purple trickling from the edges of his joint as he struggled to stay upright. 

"Dains...leif..." 

Dainsleif watched the alchemist fall onto his back as the light around him slowly faded away. He turned his gaze to where the objective was and noticed a girl encased within the ice. The man sighs out of relief when she shows no signs of life, he came just in time, "So this is how it ends." 

Albedo weakly stared at the blonde man. He attempted to say something but the blood caught in his mouth prevented him from that. 

"Save your breath, you won't be having any," Dainsleif remarks in a cold manner and glared at his bloodied form, "The renowned Chief Alchemist of Mondstadt and an important member of Ordo Favonious. Hmph, what an interesting turn of events. Out of everyone, I never thought you were the type to act so foolish." 

Foolish...what a foreign name to be called as. He never heard anyone tell him he was foolish. 

"Truly a pity," With a flick of a wrist, Dainsleif brought his sword to Albedo's neck. It was unbelievable how he had the endurance to go through all that pain while still breathing at this point but what is there to be expected from a monster? "Remember that all actions have consequences." 

The alchemist watched as his life flashed before him, the weight of his sins had finally caught up. He had always seen the world as a platform for his objectives and results were merely a natural cause after attempting many experiments. But death as a consequences was an unbearble realization upon his final moments. He abandoned his title, his pupil and his dearest sister. In the end, he was still unable to fulfill his duty. 

"I just..." Albedo mumbled, his words slurring together, "wanted..." 

As the ashes turn to ashes and dust becomes dust, chalk returns to the earth, forever yearning a place that can never be reached.

[getyallsshippingjuice]

Complete

(This is romantic Remus and Roman you have been warned.)

(Pre series) He had been alone in the imagination. Well as alone as he gets surrounded by fake citizens. The point was there were no other sides there with him. Logan and Patton never really spent much time with him and he wasn’t allowed to see any of the others. So he was alone, as he had been for the past week.

He decided to throw a party to cheer himself up, a masquerade since he felt like it. He dressed up for it in a black and red suit, a change of pace from his white and red prince suit. Sometimes the white was just too bright and it lacked depth.

Either way he danced with figments not a word spoken. They never had anything interesting to say when he knew what they were going to say. That was until one wearing a puffy green shirt and black pants took his hand and spun him around. “You come here often?”

Was he...flirting? Roman smirked, “Once or twice.” The man was wearing a frilly black mask that made his eyes look intense. He wasn’t following the script that Roman had made up in his head. The only time things happened off script was when he needed something new to happen.

So he went with it.

“You seem upset.” The man commented tilting his head slightly to the side. His red eyes staring deep into Roman’s green ones. “Is the party boring?”

“Of course not! This is..fun.” Roman said, his voice sounding fake to even himself.

The man hummed. "You don't sound sure."

"I'm having fun." Roman said firmly more to confirm if to himself than to this random guy.

“I know how to make it more fun.” the man said with a wink. Roman stared at him for a second before sputtering.

“Oh..that’s...not..I mean. No thank you.” Roman said, causing the man to laugh.

Roman smiled for real for the first time in a long time.

---

Janus told him to stay away from the others but the imagination was his place even if he normally didn’t leave his side. So when he finds out that Roman is throwing himself another pity party he has to check it out.

He didn’t expect to actually feel bad for Roman. He didn’t expect to see Roman looking depressed af and wandering around silently. He also didn’t expect that he didn’t make himself the center of attention. He was just...sad

So he swept over and drug Roman into conversion as they danced simply to the music that played. He stared when he managed to get Roman to smile. It was so..pure. Just pure happiness. No twisted thoughts poorly hidden underneath.

Maybe it was impulsive but that’s what he did. He kissed him wondering if he could taste the happiness that wasn’t tainted by some negative emotion. He felt Roman stiffen before relaxing into the kiss. Remus pulled back. “Sorry. I should have asked.” Roman had just declined his offer and he went ahead anyway.

Roman blinked before opening his mouth but no sound came out. Remus smirked, “I didn’t think that would make you speechless.” He teased.

Roman teared up and Remus panicked. He didn’t mean to cause him to cry! He took a step back and Roman took the chance to disappear into the crowd, Remus tried to follow him only to find him gone. He cursed before leaving.

He tore the mask off and threw it on his floor. “Stupid.” He muttered falling face first onto his bed. At least Roman didn’t know that it was him.

---

Roman felt awful for running but he didn’t want his first kiss to be with someone fake. Not that he wanted to kiss Patton or Logan. He didn’t really have anyone he did want to kiss. But he didn’t want it to be fake. He wanted it to matter and not be some glitch in a script.

His fingers traced his lips, the ghost feeling of the kiss messing with him. Even if it was fake..He wanted to do it again. He wanted to talk to that guy again. He seemed more real, more put together than anyone else he ever made. He wondered if maybe Remus made him and he just wandered over. That would explain the bluntness.

He looked at himself in the mirror, what was the harm in a little fantasy? As long as Remus didn’t find out about it, or any of the others for that matter. He could keep a secret.

It would be fun and maybe make him feel less lonely.

A couple weeks passed before he got the nerve to throw another party and hope that HE would show up again. He called himself for stupid for looking forward to it. To see someone that was practically a living puppet to fill an empty space, but he needed someone in that space. And if that was a made up mystery man then he would take it.

God he was desperate wasn’t he?

He was pulled from his thoughts as there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned and lit up as the man was there, mask and all. “Miss me?” He asked confidently.

Roman laughed, “You wish.” He did but he wasn’t going to just say that! He didn’t want to seem desperate even if this was fake. Roman held out his hand, “Care for a dance?”

The man took his hand, “Only if I get to lead.”

They moved in sync. “I don’t know what to call you.” Roman mused not noticing the man stiffen. “I’ve been calling you Mask in my head which is rather silly.”

“Mask works.” He said smiling. Roman huffed.

“So I don’t get to know your name?”

“You’ll have to earn that.” Mask winked and Roman’s heart did a little stutter. He brushed it off by laughing lightly hoping that Mask didn’t pick up on his nerves. Why was he so nervous?

“Then I will endeavour to do so.” Roman vowed as he let himself be turned in a circle. Mask’s eyes were glued to his face as they danced. He almost never blinked which was a little unnerving but if Remus did make him then that was to be expected. Mask might go psycho on him at any moment.

Still more fun than listening to Logan and Patton. They never wanted to really listen to him and seemed to think they were better because their jobs were more important. He was too in the clouds and his expectations for events were too unreal.

He was just for fun. He didn’t get to speak on important matters.

“Are you ok? You got quiet.” Mask said. Roman noticed they stopped dancing, standing in the middle of the dance floor.

Roman shook his head. “My apologies, I was just...thinking.”

“Spew it out.” Mask said cheerfully leading him away from the crowd and into the garden.

“I guess...I mean I shouldn’t complain.” Roman said. He wasn’t sure that mask wouldn’t just tell Remus everything he said. He didn’t want his brother laughing at him, but then again he probably already was. Remus was probably laughing his ass off at the fact that Roman kissed Mask. Or not he hadn't seen his brother in so long he didn't know what Remus was like now days. Probably just as bloody and violent as he used to be.

“It’s good to get things off your chest before you explode.” Mask said sitting them down on a bench.

“No one listens to me!” Roman said angrily. “I mean I get it! I’m not important or real enough but my opinion should matter too!”

“You think people don’t listen to you?” Mask said in an almost angry tone.

Roman rubbed his face and slumped in on himself. “I know they don’t. I told Logan the same story four times and he still doesn’t remember what it’s about. And Patton..Don’t even get me started on how I can���t get anything right for him! That story is too sad! It needs a happy ending!”

Roman sighed and shook his head. “Maybe I’m the problem.”

Mask was silent. Roman didn’t expect advice from him, at least useful advice. “I think...You need a friend.”

“Are you offering?” Roman said off hand.

“Yeah...yeah I am.” Mask’s gaze was intense. Almost threatening. Roman still expected him to try and stab him in his sleep.

“Well… it’s nice to have a friend then.” Roman said honestly. Even if it's fake.

---

Remus was almost skipping around his room. Roman wanted to spend time with him! Well… He wanted to spend time with Mask but that was close enough for him! He could keep toning it down so he didn’t push Roman away.

He sat down on his bed and stared at the mask in his hands, the key to what might actually be a real friendship. Not like what he had now with everyone slightly afraid of him. Or ignoring him. Or hating him.

He felt a little bad that he was lying to Roman about it but that was easily brushed off. Roman didn’t need to know and besides, Roman was lonely too! This would be fine!

He put the mask on his nightstand as he got up to work on a random thought he wanted to follow. A painting of Roman alone in the dark. The pull to create was almost impossible to ignore. He painted with his fingers, letting the colors blur at the edges making it seem like some kind of melting nightmare.

He sat back to look at his newest masterpiece and found himself smiling, He wanted to see his brother again. Of course he would have to wait, which was hell for him to do but looking at the painting again, he found he had something to do to fill his time.

---

Roman was sitting in his room sketching mindlessly for a while before he realized that he was drawing the same pair of eyes surrounded by black lace over and over again. Those eyes that he knew he had seen before, but couldn’t place. It felt like someone he hadn’t seen in forever. Someone he missed.

Roman felt guilty again for letting himself indulge in whatever this was. Romantic encounters with someone that wasn’t real. But he was the romantic side, he thrived off of romance so it was just...in his nature to do this…. Right?

He could almost hear Patton telling him off for being selfish and doing something like this. Logan calling it a needless waste of time just like he was. He sniffed and wiped his eyes, muttering under his breath as he saw wet spots on his drawing from tears.

And Patton was supposed to be the emotional one.

Roman paused before grabbing a canvas. If he was going to make art of Mask he was going to make it good damn it! The lines were clear and bright, before long Roman had a painting of Mask smiling at him in a soft candle lit setting, one hand outstretched. The shadows are soft and non threatening. He looks like someone Roman could trust.

Someone he could love.

Waiting a week to see him again was going to be hard.

---

Roman saw Mask first this time. The party wasn't a masquerade but he still wore his mask. He was dressed in white and sea green this time. An octopus ring circling his thumb. There wasn't any doubt in Roman's mind that Mask was made by Remus. He was honestly impressed that Mask had so much deepth. If he could, he would ask Remus how he made him.

Pushing that thought out of his head he walked up and tapped Mask's shoulder. Mask turned to look at him and had a smile on that was borderline demenated. “You came!” They both said at the same time causing them to laugh.

“Well it is my party.” Roman said, “But I did it to see you.”

Mask, for the first time, was speechless and Roman counted that as a win in his book. “I wonder if we could go for a walk instead of dancing?” Roman asked.

Mask nodded, “As long as you’ll be there it sounds great.” Roman turned away so that Mask couldn’t see his face warming.

“I’ll lead the way.”

It took a moment to calm down and he could swear he heard Mask snicker behind him. He cleared his throat as he turned away and almost jumped as Mask was right behind him. “So…”

“Yeah?” Mask said.

Roman blurted out the first question he could think of. “Why did you kiss me before?”

Mask blinked, “You’re just now asking about that?”

“Well...I mean… yes.” Roman said looking away.

“I wanted to know what happiness tasted like.” Mask said almost wistful. Roman looked at him confused. “I mean, you just seemed so...happy and I thought maybe I could figure out how that tasted.”

“Would you like to try again?” Roman asked before he thought about it. When Mask looked at him he sputtered, “I mean you don’t have to it’s just a suggest-”

Mask cut him off by kissing him.

---

Remus pulled back and watched the way Roman held his eyes closed for a few seconds more before looking at him with something akin to fondness. It made his heart feel all squishy like a crushed grape, but also warm and comfortable.

He liked it.

“So anything you want to get off your chest?” He asked, causing Roman to start.

“Right! Walking! And talking!” Roman turned and started a slow pace that Remus easily kept up with. He started ranting about the Morality and Logic, both of which ignored him most of the time. “It’s only when they need something-”

“At least you’re needed.” Remus muttered not noticing he spoke aloud until Roman stopped and looked at him.

“Why are you here?” Roman asked, looking at him intensely.

“You asked me to be here.” Remus reminded him.

Roman looked disappointed. He turned away. “Right...I keep forgetting you aren’t..”

Remus wanted to rip his mask off but he knew that would just get him kicked out faster than he could explain. So for once in his life he fought off his impulses and just stood there. Roman stared off in the distance towards where Remus’ area was.

“Do you want to be here?”

Remus didn’t expect the question as far as Roman knew, he wasn’t real. He was nothing more than a thought that one of them had. Unless he knew that he wasn’t that. “It’s better than over there.” Remus said, looking off in the same direction.

“I wouldn’t judge it too harshly.” Roman said. “I’m sure my brother has his own charm.” Roman looked down, “Or maybe not...how would I know?” He muttered to himself.

“Do you miss him?” Remus asked.

“Maybe..or maybe I just miss feeling...complete.” Roman shook his head. “Not that I can see him...Patton is...firm about that.”

“Does he hurt you?” Roman looked at him startled.

Roman laughed nervously, “What? No! That’s ridiculous he would never hurt anyone...at least not on purpose.” Remus didn’t like the sound of that. “Is he happy?” Roman asked before Remus could comment.

“No.” Remus said.

Roman looked almost wistful at the dark forest. “Let’s talk about something less depressing.”

“What do you think Frogs taste like?” Remus asked.

“I hope you aren’t saying kissing me is like kissing a frog.” Roman said.

Remus didn’t know how he made that jump in his thought process but he ran with it. “Well you are a prince.”

Roman laughed at that, “Does that make you my princess?”

Remus snorted before cackling at the thought. “Sure! I’ll get a dress and everything!”

“Well I think you could pull off an evening gown.” Roman said looking him up and down.

“Oh I could pull it off!” Remus winked and Roman shoved his shoulder gently. Roman covered his smile.

“Of course that’s where you would go.” Roman grumbled, still smiling.

“You could wear a dress too.” Remus suggested. Roman stared at him. “I mean it! You’d look fantastic in a ball gown. Red and frilly seem like your style.”

“And what if I dressed in your style instead?” Roman asked teasingly. “Something green and black?” Remus’ mouth was suddenly very dry. He cleared his throat.

“Very good.”

Roman laughed.

---

“I can’t dance in this.” Roman grumbled as he bunched up the dress so he could sit down. Remus was trying very very hard to not laugh. Roman was just so pouty and grumpy. Like a half drowned cat.

Remus plopped down next to him, his dress not nearly as frilly and was easier to move in without tripping. “Well it was worth a shot.”

Roman hummed before half smiling at him. “This was fun. For real.” Roman looked down at his hands in his lap. This matter of real or fake bothered him. Remus didn’t get it, they were fake too weren’t they? But in a different way.

“What if..” Roman looked up at him. “What if I was real?” Remus asked.

“That’s a nice thought. But you’d have to be someone I Know and-” Roman snapped his head up to stare at him. Remus took off his mask.

“Surprise?”

Roman looked panicked. “No you can’t...Remus?!? What the hell!” He demanded jumping to his feet.

“Why do you think?” Remus asked, a little hurt by Roman’s reaction.

Roman was shaking, he looked….scared. “Look it’s ok-”

“No it’s not! Do you have any idea what’s going to happen if someone finds out?” Roman’s breathing was getting faster and Remus knew what a panic attack looked like. He grabbed Roman’s hands and started tapping out a pattern of four. “Just breathe.”

Roman calmed down slowly. “I can’t...You weren’t supposed to know about this!”

“Why not?” Remus asked.

“Because,” Roman tightened his hands in Remus’ “If you know then other people will know and If that happens…. I don’t know what they’ll do.”

Remus pulled him into a tight hug. “I won’t let them do anything to you.” He whispered sharply. Roman held on to him tightly.

----

Roman was in his room WITH REMUS! He locked the door and blocked it with the dresser, he doubted either Patton or Logan would come by but on the off chance they did. He was pacing as Remus watched laying on his bed.

“I’m so stupid for not seeing this before!” Roman groaned.

“Hey! I like to think I’m at least a little sneaky!” Remus said before he caught sight of a painting on the wall. “Is… is that me?”

Roman looked up at his painting of Mask- of Remus? “Yeah I...couldn’t get you off my mind.”

“Did you only make one? because I made twelve.” Remus said jumping off the bed to get a closer look at it.

“You make paintings of me?” Roman asked.

“Yeah! Wanna see?” Remus asked, holding his hand out, not unlike the painting.

Roman took it.

It didn’t take long for Remus to sneak Roman to his room. He locked the door and turned on the light to show several large paintings. Roman covered his mouth with his hands before slowly reaching out and brushing the dried paint with his fingertips. It was dark and gritty and sad. “You painted how I feel.” Roman breathed.

“So you like them?” Remus asked nervously. Roman beamed at him and nodded.

“You captured my loneliness and sadness.” Roman said, “I love it.”

“Oh! I know what we should do!” Remus said excitedly, “Make an art gallery in that one empty hall you have in your castle!”

“That’s a great idea!” Roman said grabbing Remus shoulders and tugging him in for a quick kiss before freezing. He backed up. “Sorry! I didn’t..”

“Hey.” Remus said firmly putting his hand under Roman’s chin and making him look up at him. “Did you like it?”

“What the kiss?” Remus nodded. “I..yes?”

“Then don’t let anyone tell you it was wrong.” Remus said firmly. “You are your own person and you can make your own choices.”

Roman blinked, “I can? ..I mean I can!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

---

They still meet up every week but this time they worked together on projects they wanted to make. Their art gallery was quickly full and overflowing into the rest of the castle. It was no longer filled with fake people but paintings and art that made it feel far more alive.

The halls were filled with laughter and talking. Roman felt complete.

(After accepting anxiety.)

Roman was laying on a couch in the art studio that had been a dinning hall. Remus was painting the ceiling. He sighed dramatically for the fifteenth time in as many minutes.

“You’re being all depressio expressio again.” Remus said without looking away from the very gory piece he was working on.

“I know! I just...I feel like...What if I’m the bad guy?” Roman asked. Remus paused so he could look down at him.

“You think YOU are bad? What in the name of hell gave you that idea?” Remus asked.

“Well I’m not the nicest person.” Roman said.

“You have flaws? Hello? That’s normal?” Remus said.

“I’m dating my brother.” Roman shot back.

Remus smiled, “We’re dating?”

Roman blinked, “I...we are aren’t we? Or did you not want to-”

“No! I fucking love that! You just never said it before!” Remus said, jumping off the ladder and making Roman cry out in alarm before he landed fine.

“Give me a heart attack.” Roman muttered sitting up as Remus could sit down next to him.

“I try.” Remus said laying down so his head was in Roman’s lap. “So, you feel bad because you’re dating me?”

“Well not that’s it you just...you know.” Roman said.

“Oh! The incestous part of it!” Remus wiggled his eyebrows.

“I’m not even supposed to talk to you. I doubt anyone would approve of-”

“Does it make you happy?” Remus asked firmly.

Roman rolled his eyes. “You know it does.”

Remus laughed, “I know. It just feels nice for you to say!” Roman kissed Remus’ forehead.

“I’ll try and say it more then.” Roman promised brushing Remus’ hair back. Remus hummed and closed his eyes, a happy duke getting head pets. Remus was a lot softer than people expected. Sure he was terrifying but he could also be soft.

He just never wanted to be seen as afraid.

Just like Roman never wanted to be seen as evil.

Roman would just have to try harder to be good.

(After dealing with intrusive thoughts)

"Everything you don't want to be?" Remus asked.

Roman stiffened before spinning around and glaring at Remus, "YOU knocked me out TWICE!"

Remus shifted, "You said to make it look good!"

"I didn't mean attack me!" Roman said his voice strained. Remus reached towards him and...he flinched. Remus watched as Roman took a step away from him. "I didn't mean what I said."

"I'm sorry." Remus said, "I went too far."

"It's fine." Roman said in a tone that clearly said that it wasn't. "Can we just...forget about it?"

Remus didn't want to but he agreed anyway, trying to ignore the guilt everything Roman tensed when he moved close.

He could only watch as Roman got progressively worse.

Roman was depressed. He gave up everything he dreamed about in the name of what he thought would make him a good person. So why did he feel so...terrible?

Worse was he couldn't get rid of the uneasy feeling whenever Remus would move suddenly. He expected him to attack him again and it was just...he wished things played out differently.

(After selfishness verses selflessness redux)

"Roman?" Remus asked as Roman was curled up in a ball in the corner of his room. Roman didn't respond until Remus sat down next to him.

"I failed." His voice was bitter. He looked up, dark shadows under bloodshot eyes. "I tried so hard and I failed."

"You made mistakes-"

"I'm not a good person, Remus." Roman said, cutting him off. "I'm not a hero or a prince. I'm just...Roman. stupid and cruel."

Remus slowly pulled him into a hug. "You get scared and you lash out. That doesn't make you evil."

"It doesn't matter." Roman said, his voice devoid of feeling. "Not anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm done. I just… I can't keep doing this anymore." Remus' stomach filled with ice, sharp and cold.

"Yes you can! Listen to me!" Remus forced Roman to face him. "I do not give a fuck whatever everyone else says you are not giving up on me!"

Roman teared up, "I'm sorry I can't be better."

Remus hugged him angry at everyone for the pain his brother was going through. Angry at himself for letting it happen.

---

Now that Remus was around more often it was getting harder to keep the fact they were together underwraps. Roman had a feeling Janus knew, he would give him long looks before looking at Remus and back. He would smile in an unfriendly way. Possible still made about the whole name thing, Roman and apologized but it didn't seem like it was enough.

Roman wasn't enough.

Remus watched as everyone just accepted Roman not talking anymore, brushing off his feelings and saying he was 'pouting'. Roman only ever talked to Thomas and Remus at this point and the others...were fine with that.

They didn't care.

One part of Remus was sickly happy about it. He got Roman to himself for the most part. But the other part was furious that they didn't care. He wanted to smack some sense into them but Roman told him not too.

Roman's ideas got darker. He stopped wearing his prince suit and switched it out for a white turtleneck and black pants. No one other than Remus commented on the change.

"You look good in anything but are you happy?" Remus asked when Roman asked how he looked.

"At least I still look ok." Roman said ignoring the question before going to work. He struggled to make more 'good' ideas and Logan was getting tired of waiting.

Remus almost bashed Logan's face in whenever he showed up and asked if Remus could try and replace Roman in case he might have something that would work. Remus stiffly declined.

He never told Roman about the offer but he knew the second Roman found out by the way the light in his eyes dulled.

Remus had to do something.

So he threw a party.

---

Roman wasn't sure why he was blindfolded and drugged off through his own castle but he didn't question Remus' surprises anymore. The quiet muttering of a crowd met his ears before the blindfold was removed and replaced with a mask.

"You threw a party?" Roman asked blinking.

Remus grabbed his brother's hand tightly. "It's the same party where we met...again." Remus said, dragging him out onto the dancefloor.

Roman smiled, the circles under his eyes still there but there was a spark of life in him again. Remus stopped in one spot. "Our first kiss." He said.

Roman chuckled and leaned in giving Remus a kiss, soft and quick but enough to make them both smile. "I'll always be here for you."

"And I for you." Roman promised putting his hand on Remus' cheek.

"Sap."

"You started it."

Remus hummed. "I did didn't I?"

Roman leaned his forehead against Remus' and closed his eyes focusing on the feeling of being with him. Of feeling complete.

They swayed slightly to the music. Time not mattering, the outside world not mattering, just this moment. When they left they would face the others but Roman decided they would face them together.

Even if they got angry or disapproved. They would have each other.

[danseinthefallout]

the art of danse - two

a paladin danse fanfiction

story warning; this story contains strong language, adult themes (such as violence, smut/NSFW themes, drug use, and other harsh themes) and canon and un canon language and story plots of Fallout 4 and Fallout 3. 

summary; yea, the bombs may have fallen, but art and love have not. and of course, people still tell white lies

~~

word count; 3.5k

chapter two; synthetic childhood

Everything went back to normal, as best as things can. It’s been around three days since Stella’s adventures out in the Commonwealth. That wasn’t going to stop her, she was planning on making way back to the police station in a couple of weeks. Luckily, the signal at the police station was now strong enough that Stella’s Pip-Boy cough their signal, so she could communicate with Haylen. She found that out last night while she was working on modding her guns, a strange voice came from it. At first, she was concerned, but when Haylen stated it was her and she realized she left the signal on her Pip-Boy, she was happy to hear from her. Haylen was happy to talk to someone other than people who were apart of the Brotherhood, and Stella was happy she could talk to Haylen, maybe she could get a signal elsewhere.

“What’s the craziest thing you fought?” Haylen asked to throw the speaker as Stella was tinkering with the gun she was making for Danse as a thank you. Stella sat back and thought about her question. Haylen snuck away to talk to her before Ryhs or even Danse would find her. Haylen has so many questions for Stella, about her crazy adventures she had. 

“At 16, I fought two Deathclaws in the middle of a Gunner shoot out. For some reason, the Deathclaws didn’t attack me, but they did help me kill the Gunners… then they tried to attack me so I shot one square in the head but it did manage to rip my gun in two before it blood out… so I had to try to kill the other Deathclaw with my combat knife. It took a while before I confused the Deathclaw and I ended up crawling on his back and slitting its throat… I should have just taken one of the Gunner’s gun and shooting them, but that thought didn’t cross my mind,” Stella said through the mic. “I know it sounds so untrue, but I have the scar to prove it,” Stella stated as she felt the scare on her neck and chest. It was nasty and when she got it, she swore she was going to die right then and there and be a Deathclaw’s dinner.

“Jesus…” Haylen sighed, baffled by Stella’s story “I think with that, you have Elder Maxon beat…” Haylen laughed. Stella blushed.

“You think I’d be a good Elder?” Stella laughed. “Ah, just kidding, you shouldn’t answer that,” Stella stated. Stella could hear someone walking in.

“Hey, Haylen, who are you talking too?” A familiar voice was heard. It was Danse

“It’s- It’s Stella, Paladin. The signal was strong enough that I’m able to contact Stella,” Haylen stated. Stella’s cheeks where flushed, thinking about the Paladin.

“Hi, Danse!” Stella cheered. 

“Hello, soldier, nice to hear from you again… Haylen, Ryhs needs to talk to you,” Danse spoke with seriousness in his tone.

“Oh… okay. Bye Stella!” Haylen cheered.

“Bye Haylen. Talk to you soon okay?” Stellas asked.

“Of course,” And with that Haylen disconnected from the channel. Stella smiled as she looked at the loose pieces of the rifle she was modding. 

Stella got up from her desk as she went to the kitchen in her quarters. She lived with Lucas and Joanna and their quarters were rather large. However, tonight, she was home alone. Lucas and Joanna went to the ‘night club’ for some free drinks, but Stella wanted to stay behind to do some modding and to talk to Haylen of course. 

Stella went to the fridge as she grabbed an ice-cold Nuka-Cola. Endcliff was a freak about pre-war foods and actually being edible, so their scientists and chefs would get together to make them. It was nice. 

She took a sip, and sat down, unsure of what to do next of her rifle, maybe a suppressor? Ah, who knows. Stella just decided to move her little gun project back in her locker and pull out her typewriter, might as well finish that play she was writing for Cosmos…

The thing with Endcliff, is that they value education and the most important art and anything creative. That’s why it’s such a perfect fit for her. Stella always valued things like crafting, music, writing, painting, and dance. It would help heal wounds that were never physical. She remembered when she ran off to Goodneighbor in hopes of a memory wipe, she would sketch all the emotions she felt in her notebook. Luckily, before anything could happen, Nick Valentine busted in, helping her cope with her emotions, with her friends by her side. She realized that maybe she could learn from this and make art to express the awful feeling that flowed throw her veins. Or where they veins? 

Yea, the past 4 years have been difficult after her little disappearing act, but who could blame her? The women just found out she’s a fucking synth prototype and everyone is after her? Was her mother really her mother? Or just a vessel for a synthetic baby? All her childhood felt so real, but was it real to everyone else? 

Vault-Tec and the Institue? What a cluster fuck for disaster. 

What scared her the most is that the Institue still is after her. Even when she was captured at 19, she managed to wipe her entire file and flee. She was safe for now… but she keeps wounding when her time will run out and there will be a ninth attempt on her life. 

She kept that all to herself, the only people who knew her true self where her family and Nicky. She was happy about her new friendship with Valentine. He was fun and treated her with such care. He was like a father figure to her new identity and well, Nick felt comfort when she was around. A prototype. Just like him.

It was cruel what they did, telling her that she’s just a science project to those fuckers at the Institute on her 18th birthday, making her life crumble and saying her time was up. She couldn’t do that. She had to find something or someone else. Leave, forever. She realized she didn’t want that. Fuck the Institue.

The funny thing is, Stella, remembers her childhood like everyone normal child can… or as normal as one can get. Her oldest brother being in a gang and harassing everyone that crossed him and playing with anyone but the kids her age. The vault was never supposed to open. That’s what the Institute wanted. They thought that if they grew up on in a vault, they can easily get information, but now she’s here, in the Commonwealth where their little labs are. I guess she always knew something was off with her. She was anxious all the time and thought nothing she did was normal. She questioned her sexuality and her place in the world. It hit her too that she liked everyone, even ghouls and synths. She just didn’t care. Pre-war days, they would have a name for that. 

She was lucky she made way to Little Lamplight after she lefts her life behind. She never really cared for the vault, no one ever cared for her. She did question if anyone ever tried to look for her, but she didn’t look for them, so it was whatever.

 Stella never saw the world until she was 12. Broken… lost… She saw pictures of it before the bombs fell and she’d hope something of that life was still there. It was the Mayor of Lamplight that befriended her, they where close. He was the only one she talked to before she up and left again. Robert MacCready. Stella heard a rumor he was running with Gunner’s now and he made way to the Commonwealth too. She’d hope to bump into him at some point, maybe without the bloodshed, of course

Stella traveled everywhere in the Capital Wasteland before she made way to the Galaxy News Radio station. It was a blur at that time of her life. Brotherhood of Steel soldiers were doing their business. They were kind enough to let her stay there. Maybe that’s why she’s so drawn to the Brotherhood, even if they wanted to hunt her down now. Or maybe it was the fact that her first kiss and even doing that for the first time was with a Knight. She was 15, 2 months before she was planning on leaving and she had a crush on a new Knight… Knight Micheal. He was 17. The two hung out a lot and well… one thing leads to another and she was no longer a virgin. But that’s neither here or there.

Stella sat there, staring mindlessly, caught up in her thoughts. For a machine whose every waking moment was supposed to be programmed, she sure did think a lot. Quite honestly, with everything that happened since she got the news about herself, a lot of shit happened and well… she somehow saw the positive in it all. Even when the Institue did capture her only a year later. She learned a lot about herself in that time slot. She saw a lot of things she wishes she could be programmed to forget, but maybe… it was there for a reason. No matter what people say… no matter what the Brotherhood says or those bastards at the Institue, she is human.  People forget what human even means in this climate. 

Stella’s relationship with herself and other synths are always off and on, but to be fair, no other person outside Endcliff knows, it was the ones who were mindless under orders, jealous, almost towards her. She never understood why. Maybe the fact she remembered her childhood, had a real mother and father… but underneath it all, they were apart of the experiment all the same. She did feel bad for those wishing to have that loving mother or father, but that was never up to her. Nothing was. Besides her escape, of course.

The Institue was stupid enough to have every track record of there captured and escaped synths and there every move. Just on a terminal for anyone that can get their hands on it. They didn’t know she was going to escape with a few others, but she overheard a few idiots talking about it and so she found her file and deleted it so that when she’s back home, they won’t have a clue where she was. LV-32. Gone. It was a stupidly complicated yet simple plan with a lot of waiting. At least someone helped her. The Railroad. 

Stella always heard about The Railroad even before she found out about being LV-32. She knew someone in The Institue was dancing with them. She owed a little bit of her freedom because of them.

Stella had no clue who was apart of there secret cool kids club, or anyone from Endcliff. When she got back from here escape, a new resident, Athena, moved in. Stella always thought she was odd, but she respected it. They talked every now and again when she went to Cosom’s. She ended up working costumes and was a fantastic seamstress. She could make anything you ever wanted to wear, amazing for any production Cosmos would put on. Athena would always ask Stella questions, not invasive questions if Stella had any, she was a pretty open person after all (besides her synth nature to outsiders)

Stella and Athena bonded a month after everything. Cosmo wanted to put on a production of a play he worked on called Poison of Creature he wrote with the help of Lucas. Stella played Noble, a woman who was a witch. Athena did all her costumes and hung out a lot backstage with Stella. It was no Lucas or Joanna to the level of trust and closeness, but she was glad she made a new friend. 

It wasn’t until closing night she got a chance to meet… Deacon… and Glory and Tinker Tom. Athena invited some “friends” from her old settlement to watch the play and come to the little after party back at Cosmos’ place. Stella hit it off with Athena’s friends and well… months later told her everything or enough that Dez wouldn’t skin any of them alive. Just like the Brotherhood, she didn’t join them, but she did befriend them.

Stella was kicked off out of her through as she heard her radio coming on, someone was trying to contact her. It was probably Haylen again.

“Haylen? Is that you?” She spoke, leaning into the mic.

“No. This is Paladin Danse. Scribe Haylen is on a mission, she’ll be back in a few hours… I… I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to speak to you… if you have time, that is,” Danse voice was husky and Stella couldn’t help but swoon. She was so happy to hear from him again.

“I always have time for you and your team, Paladin,” Stella spoke with professionalism.

“Please, call me Danse… I just wanted to properly thank you for helping us. It has been a stressful time and I would have left for the Prywen by now but I have to stay with my time to make sure they are good. I’m happy Haylen has continued to keep in contact with you,” Danse said, honestly.

“I’m glad to help out… sometimes we forget to help others… speaking of which, I’m making you something as a thank you, will you be at the police station in a week?” Stella asked. Danse chuckled, you could hear him blushing.

“I’m supposed to go back to the Prydwen in a few days, but I can always tell the Elder I need more time… that’s very thoughtful of you, soldier…” He paused as Stella smiled. Oh boy, she could feel that crush feeling crawling in. Not in this climate! “I’m glad you picked up, I wasn’t sure who or what I’d be talking to with Haylen’s radio,”  Danse chuckled.

“I’m glad you contacted me. I have a million things I should do, but no inspiration is hitting me at the moment,” Stella admitted as she looked at the empty page of her play and the loose screws of her gun. Ugh, creation block.

“Inspiration for what?” Danse asked.

“I’m writing a play and modding something special… usually, I’ll have the first scene of my play done and the rest just come naturally, but… I think I can’t get my mind off of what happened. I can’t write about our loses or my adventures ether. It’s been the plot of my last 3 plays. Love? Murder? Synthetic lies?! Ah, sorry for rambling…” Stella stumbled over her words as she thought of another generic plot point.

“You’re a writer? We don’t have many of those nowadays. I always wanted to go to a play, but I’m always busy for the Brotherhood. Maybe write something that could have happened before the war… Baseball or country music. Simple. Peaceful…” It was clear that Danse, too was trailing off, but Stella listened to him carefully. She didn’t know a lot about things from before the war. She only knew of this life.

“You’re more than welcome to come to Endcliff, we usually have productions of plays that our friend Cosmos puts on. Sometimes it’s someone else. He’s currently running around like a madman, putting up a rusty set. And yes, I’m more of an artist, you could say. I paint and dance and sometimes I bang on tables! Damnit that sounded… sexual, ah… you know what I mean,” Stella laughed, completely making herself sound like a fool. Danse laughed at her, enjoying the conversation they were having.

“I’ll try to find a way to Endcliff, and I think I have an idea of what you mean. I heard stories of Endcliff, it sounds like such a strange place, the Brotherhood could make use of such a place,” Danse replied.

“I’d hope you’re not planning on raiding us… you’re making me nervous, Paladin,” Stella joked. “And yea, Endcliff is about education and art. A lot of settlers and traders and people of all walks of life come here, some live here. Mayor Kinnojo kept it safe and the same since his father passed away. We don’t keep people out, but you do have to pass security and Benji takes his job seriously… expect for the raider ambush… poor Benji is still trying to hold himself together… Anyways, hows Brotherhood life? And don’t worry I’m not trying to get you to tell me all your secrets,” Stella laughed.

“The Brotherhood is an honor to be in. I’ve works hours with my brother and sisters, saw many good soldiers come and go. My whole life is dedicated to the Brotherhood… but you can say it’s more than that,” Danse let out a comforting sigh. “Have you considered joining the Brotherhood? After taking care of yourself, you seem to be what the Brotherhood is looking for,” Danse asked. Stella thought about it for a moment. 

“I ride solo, only really ride with Lucas and Joanna and for the people in Endcliff. It’s funny, back in the Capital Wasteland, I was around with a lot of Brotherhood soldiers but never would want to become one myself. I’d rather just do things my way, help people I want to help. I’m unsure why people always ask me to join their clubs… I mean, it’s nice that people think I’m good enough for them, but… it’s all bullshit,” Stella spoke with honesty. Maybe she should join one of those ‘clubs’. “I traveled with many people before I meet Joanna and Lucas, I was working with a raider gang, fixing their guns at one point. Hated every second of that gig… And of course the kids at Little Lamplight and the soldiers at Galaxy News Radio… but none of it felt like me. Yea, sure it gets lonely as hell when all you do is run with two people or even by yourself, but at those times I remember why I do it. To find clarity,” Stella looked at the blank page in her typewriter. “I suck… sorry for my life story… I really need to take it easy on the Nuka Cola,” Stella awkwardly laughed.

“It’s okay, soldier. I understand. I hope you change your mind and join us down the line,” Danse stated. If only he knew what she was… “I’m sorry to cut it short, but I have to go, Haylen and the team is back. I hope to see you soon,” With that and two goodbyes, the channel on her radio lost signal. She looked at her Pip-Boy. It was now midnight.

Stella got up and put on her coat. She wanted to go to Vista’s for a drink and some fucking food.

Usually, sitting at a bar, by yourself at midnight would be pretty fucking sad, but it’s Vista’s and tonight Kamilia was working. Stella sipped her whiskey as she listened to Liza Bush do her set. For such a popular hot spot for drunken mistakes, it was pretty fucking quiet tonight.

“Come here often?” Stella heard a recognizable voice next to her as she shifted her body. She prayed it wasn’t Danny… she would hate herself if it was… She took a sip as she looked to her left to see Deacon. She smiled and rolled her eyes as Deacon moved to sit next to her.

“Yes, all the time… What brings you back to Endcliff? Forget a disguise of ‘Pretentious Art Snob?’” Stella asked, making Deacon laugh.

“That would be such a good disguise for a place like this… but no… I came here to talk to you,” Deacon had some seriousness in his voice as Stella tilted her head in concern. 

“Deacon is everything okay?” Stella asked.

“Yes… and well… no. Remember that man who was with me last time I visited Athena? F8-L9 or Gray we called him?” Deacon asked, catching Stella’s mind up.

“Oh yes! He had a passion for the arts, a perfect fit for Endcliff. Is everything alright with him?” Stella asked.

“He was supposed to be here with me so he could get a residentship here after speaking with Mayor Kinnojo, but Glory said he went all cuckoo and fleed to Goodnaighbor for a memory wipe, I’m afraid the Institute is after him and he just had a memory wipe before his visit,” Deacon explained the situation. Stella took another sip of her drink.

“That sounds like a hard deal… two memory wipes in that short amount of time can be dangerous and afar from the Institue goes, you guys always got that part covered,” Stella stated.

“You’re going to hate me, but we need your help,” Deacon spoke. Stella raised her eyebrows.

“Why me? I’m not even an agent,” Stella reminded Deacon.

“Because what I’ve gathered, Gray really likes you and your art and maybe you could tell him something that could convince him. We don’t have to leave until tomorrow evening… Please, you owe us this much. And besides, don’t you miss traveling with this face?” Deacon asked as he batted his eyelashes, but of course, couldn’t see with him wearing sunglassed in a dim bar.

“Fine, but we’re going to Cambridge Police Station, I have to give a Paladin something for helping me,” Stella explained.

“Okay, deal… Thank you, Stella,” Deacon smiled as he got up and left. What happened with running alone?

Authors Note; This has been really fun writing and I have a whole plot for this story. Don’t worry, I won’t flood your timelines with only this story, I’ll post other junk too. Hope you enjoyed and my asks are open for anything x

[chocoluckchipz]

Dance with Me, Chaton - 2

Read it on A03, WattPad, FF.net

Written for @ladynoirjuly2019​

< Previous

2. Civilian Lives.

She was smart, this Ladybug of his. Adrien had to give it to her. Tracing the origins of her email had brought him to a public computer at a library half a city away from Gabriel’s offices. And a very busy library at that, as it stood in between a few educational institutions and the flow of students who needed to use public computers there never ceased.

His next idea was to infiltrate his father’s company and snoop around for any clues. Not that he didn’t work there but now Adrien needed to actually mingle with employees instead of showing up for photoshoots and disappearing as soon as those were over. Don’t get him wrong, Adrien wasn’t an antisocial person. It was the mountain of responsibilities and studies that had kept him away. However, now that his official education was over, he could try to fit in better. Surely, he’d spot his Ladybug soon enough. Such fire and passion as she displayed in her email would be hard to miss.

His mind made up, Adrien called Nathalie, his father's long-time personal assistant and more of a parent to him than Gabriel ever was. A short conversation later she agreed to provide him with an official cover and access everywhere he needed. Adrien couldn't be happier. He was one step closer to his freedom.

However, it was a reply to his email that really made his day. Adrien emailed Ladybug in a hustle, having nothing better to do. He didn’t dare to hope she’d reply. Yet, here he was clicking on an email from a Ladybug addressed to him, not his father.

From: ladybug@miraculous.fr

To: chatnoir@miraculous.fr

Subject: RE: Hello stranger

Hey, Chat Noir. Although I cannot approve of anyone bestowing a title of Bad Luck upon themselves, I like your logic with choosing a name. It was rather clever and fun.

I’m also glad you share my sentiment regarding M Agreste’s latest fashion choices. Let me assure you that writing that email hadn’t come easy to me. I deeply respect M Agreste and his work. He’s been my idol since I can remember myself and seeing him suddenly trying to pull this nonsense hurts me too much to stay silent. First, for M Agreste’s and Gabriel’s reputation. Second, for all of us working here. I’m saddened to learn he ignored my email, especially because I was voicing concerns of the whole team. It’s rather disappointing, but, well, at least we tried. All we can do now is to keep our fingers crossed the line won’t flop too badly, and we’ll still have a job after the show.

Thanks for letting me know.

Ladybug

Adrien started to type. If Ladybug replied once, who is to say she won’t reply again, and then who knows, she might let something slip about her civilian identity. Paired with his infiltration of the company, his chances of finding this mysterious Lady Luck was looking more promising with every minute.

From: chatnoir@miraculous.fr

To: ladybug@miraculous.fr

Subject: Lovely to hear from you

Hello again, my lovely Ladybug. I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect you to write back, but I’m so glad you did. You mentioned my nickname choice. Well, let me assure you it’s a fitting title. Most people would say I’m a lucky fellow, but I do not consider my life to be all that fortunate. What others see as fortune, in fact, is a gilded cage with no viable escape routes. And this cat has been yearning for some freedom ever since he remembers himself. However, less about me, it came to my attention you mentioned you were voicing concerns of a group of people. May I assume you and I aren’t alone in believing that sequins, neon sneakers, and Mickey Mouse bows aren’t a staple of formal wear? Especially when they all go together.

Eagerly awaiting your reply,

Chat Noir

She took longer to respond than he’d like, but nevertheless, an email arrived at the end of the day.

From: ladybug@miraculous.fr

To: chatnoir@miraculous.fr

Subject: RE: Lovely to hear from you

Oh, please! That combination still gives me nightmares. I mean it looks like a five-year-old half-heartedly tried to beautify her CEO father while he was passed out drunk on a coach. The first time I saw those sketches, I was dead sure M Agreste was joking. But then it wasn’t April Fool’s Day, and he looked serious, so my conviction has changed into a hope, a hope that was squished soon thereafter. I don’t know what happened to him, but I cannot see any sane person who wears formal wear to even think about wearing that combination. I doubt M Agreste himself would wear it, and honestly, I feel sorry for the models that would have to put that on. I bet they hated it as much.

As for the opinions of others, yeah, there are many people who are just as confused and flabbergasted as I am. We hoped he’d listen to the email, but I guess it’s too late now.

Bug out.

Ladybug

Adrien flopped on his bed with a dopey smile on his face. Ladybug thought about what the models thought, aka him and his coworkers. That felt strangely nice. He wasn’t a stranger to wearing whatever nonsense the designers came up with, but no one ever was concerned with his opinion on the matter before. Those who dared to comment were told to suck it up. It was their job. They had to obey mindlessly whatever the designer said. So, Adrien never voiced his thoughts. Knowing that someone was sympathetic to his fate did feel kind of incredible.

From: chatnoir@miraculous.fr

To: ladybug@miraculous.fr

Subject: It’s never too late

Honestly? I think a five-year-old would do a better job on her CEO father. ;) Speaking from the experience of a person whose friend had done something similar to her non-CEO but still a formal-suit-wearing father.

Also, funny story but M Agreste was drunk when Audrey Bourgeois challenged him to make the abomination work. And he’s too stubborn and proud to back away from a drunken bet. Even if it means sinking his company.

So, this might be a crazy idea, but what do you say if we try convincing him again? Maybe if we combine forces, we’ll be more successful.

Chat Noir

From: ladybug@miraculous.fr

To: chatnoir@miraculous.fr

Subject: RE: It’s never too late

With all due respect, Chat, it’s just a little over a month until the show. Even if we convince him, it’s too late to come up with and produce a whole new line. But I appreciate the initiative. It’s cute, though naïve.

Ladybug

From: chatnoir@miraculous.fr

To: ladybug@miraculous.fr

Subject: RE: RE: It’s never too late

Have you missed the subject of my email, my Lady? It might be hard, but it isn’t impossible. What’s the worst that can happen? He’ll change nothing or he might pull pieces out instead of creating new ones. He might adjust the existing designs. That’s plausible, right? We’ll never know unless we try, so we should. What do you say? Let’s meet for a cup of coffee and come up with a plan.

Chat Noir

From: ladybug@miraculous.fr

To: chatnoir@miraculous.fr

Subject: RE: RE: RE: It’s never too late

Nice try, Kitty, but I’m not meeting with anyone. You might be M Agreste himself, or one of his henchmen. Even his antisocial, thinking-that-he’s-better-than-anyone-else son. So nice try, but I love my job, and I’m not losing it for wishing to spare the company some major embarrassment.

Ladybug

Adrien pursed his lips and shifted in his bed. She was smart, but he wasn’t the antisocial, thinking-that-he’s-better-than-anyone-else son of Gabriel she thought he was. He was just too busy to forge friendships at work. Not that he needed to justify himself to anyone, but he had friends; he wasn’t antisocial. He had Chloe since forever, and Nino, a guy he’d met in his university. There was also a prospect to befriend Alya, Nino’s new girlfriend. Nino promised they’d hang out together as soon as Adrien would get a break from his responsibilities. So there! He wasn’t antisocial. Not at all. And he did hate his father’s upcoming collection. Given a choice, he’d burn it all with fire. He was nothing like this Ladybug seemed to think of him.

From: chatnoir@miraculous.fr

To: ladybug@miraculous.fr

Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: It’s never too late

You wound me, my Lady. My proposal comes from the sincere heart of the person who loathes those sequins as much as you do and who would hate seeing Gabriel being dragged through the mud after the show.

However, I understand your concern. So, here is my second offer: we’ll discuss details over email? Or we can set up a chat room in one of those chat apps for convenience since I suspect you won’t be giving me your phone number any time soon. If you ever would want to back out, just delete the app and emails, and I shall never contact you again. Whatever you decide, it was my biggest pleasure to talk with you as much as we did.

Wishing you all the best. Goodnight.

Yours,

Chat Noir

With that, Adrien closed his phone and turned the lights off. Hopefully, she'd reply. Because if she did and they succeeded, he might just kill two birds at the same time: get his freedom and get his father to accept the reality of the horrendous line he’d planned to present in a month. And, even though he understood Ladybug’s concerns, Adrien knew better. His father swore he wouldn’t fire her. Unfortunately, Adrien couldn’t exactly tell her that without revealing his own identity, and seeing her opinion of him, he doubted it was a good idea. In any case, the ball was in her court now, and he had to get his sleep. Tomorrow was a big day: his infiltration would begin.

_______________________________________________________________________

Next >

[thezomblr-blog1]

HAPPY ONE YEAR WRITING A FUCKED UP NOT-A-ZOMBIE DUDE

I'm following suit and doing my own #FollowForever to celebrate my one year on this blog (Which actually was April 30th Oops!) Just wanted to take some time to appreciate my ride or dies and friends I've made over the course of this year. I'm so glad I made the choice to give Tumblr RP a chance because I've met so many fantastic people and inspiring writers. Overall this RPC is incredible and deserves all the positivity I can possibly fling at it. I can't believe there are 649 following this trash fire. Thank you all for the support!! Every single one of you liking threads, fics, participating in events, and sending in asks means the absolute world.

RIDE OR DIES

@hellrager​

Just as you started with me, there's no one else I could have started with but you. I was so shocked by how instantly we connected. Even before we talked OOC our writing meshed together so flawlessly without any prior plotting or discussion. We've always been on the same wavelength to the point it's almost creepy and yet in the same breath, we can still inspire and surprise each other with new ideas and plots. I never expected to find a friendship like this in the RPC, and so quickly. We've said this before but you are a breath of fresh air into my life and the first person I've been able to bond with so closely in a long ass time. Grim, you inspire me not only in terms of writing but also in my day to day life.  I don't think you'll ever understand how much of a blessing you've been to me. You've given me the motivation to work harder, to constantly improve myself, and do better each and every day. You've empowered me to take control of my life and stop coasting through it mindlessly. Our relationship means so much to me and I gotta stop now or this whole post is going to end up being about how truly incredible you are. 🐱 ♥ 🐺

@youngsouthey​ This time I actually get to write a bit for you instead of someone I just watch from afar! It was my first Follow Forever that actually got us talking and contrasting how we both played Brian! I'm never going to forget that moment when your incredibly talented self told me that you admired me – when I was the one admiring your work. It felt like I had been noticed by a celebrity honestly. It was insane. I'm so glad that its spawned a solid friendship where we can sit and talk about our OCs for hours on end just shooting the shit. I cannot wait to see where another year takes us.  God your art and writing ideas just take my breath away. It's honestly crazy to see how rapidly you keep improving. Just when I think your artwork can't get any better it does with the very next drawing or sketch and I have to pick my jaw up off the ground. Your artwork and headcanons made me feel so validated with my own (and I'm so glad to have someone else in Team Top Damien Bottom Brian – but you me and Grim go on about that for hours haha

@shadow-of-fear-and-doubt​ / @a-poisonous-gamble​ By now almost everyone has heard about how you were the first blog I encountered in the Monster Prom community. About how I was scared that I was going to be the only Monster Prom blog before we found each other and screamed about these idiots. I'm so proud of all the progress you've made personally and how you tackle challenges that come your way. A lot of other people would have let that defeat them or made them turn bitter. I admire your genuine positive attitude towards people around you. It's absolutely awesome.

@woofjock

Where would a Follow Forever list be without you? You've installed yourself as a centrepiece to this community from the get go. You've spent so much time and energy maintaining the Masterlist. You're constantly showering the dash with them positive vibes and reminders that the RPC tends to need more often than not. Not to mention your version of Scott is absolutely flawless. Brian and Scott have not gotten to interact as much as I would like but he will support him dating his purple eldritch daughter any day. One day our jobs will stop kicking our asses collectively and we'll be able to interact ahaha.

@zombfear​ / @d-e-lioncourt​ Honestly the best duplicate I could have asked for. I love how we forged a relationship between our Brian's that works so well for our canon. The idea of them as cousins is so fucking heartwarming and I want to make an effort to get more zombie cousins back on the dash again soon!! I also super miss your Liam and the 'dirty little secret' plot between Brian and Liam in their ship verse. Interactions with you are always so much fun to watch and take part in!

@hellrexgn / @gruselhigh

I don't think I have EVER seen a multimuse run so smoothly. You run the gold standard for multimuse blogs. How you keep interactions between all the muses even and active is just astounding and I only wish I had more energy to play with the ships we have concepts for because I love them all! Honestly, I do not know how you do it but other multimuse blogs should look to you as an example. You're so fun to chat and plot with or just talk stupid headcanons about their day to day. When things do go amiss in the plotting phase you are so easy to work with and have things rectified and it's never felt awkward or forced. I also LOVE that you indulge Grim and I with three-person threads! So many other people are scared of doing them, but I love that we can have our characters slip in and out of threads as they are needed. You're so accommodating and adaptable. I love it.  Thank you for putting up with my shit.

@screvvedloose​ / @outofthemaiinstream​

AAAAAHHH !! The relationship between Vicky and Brian is one of the most simultaneously heart wrenching and adorable thing I've written. The way you so readily took the role my Brian needed in his life is incredible and exactly what I pictured when I first conceptualized the headcanon and I'm so thrilled that you had a similar take on the relationship between these two! I also am a huge fan of your Liam and hope he and Brian will also get to interact more soon as what I've seen of them already is fantastic.

@loveyourfears​

I think it's so rare and fantastic to see someone so invested in other people's storylines on the RPC – I think you were the Damien/Brian ship's original cheerleader on this blog and at some points Oz became the mouthpiece for what a lot of others in our captive audience were thinking at the time when Dame and Bri were torturing themselves. It's really good to see someone try to foster platonic connections and take part in being part of a cast of characters rather than the one on one stuff you see most often on the RPC. It's been cool to get to know you over the past year and here's to another year of fun times.

@spoiledfins​ / @idowatercolours​  / @revcnga​  I LOVE YOU! Even though you aren't active on Miri so much I still love your take on her and I've got a Brian/Miri ship with your name on it whenever you wanna start working towards it. I'm so glad we've started to get to know each other OOC because you make me laugh so fucking much. Your stories are fucking gold as is the cursed content you provide! I can't wait to get to know you better as I think this is the start of an amazing friendship.

MORE FANTASTIC PEOPLE (Lets Interact More I Love Your Shit)

@caelestalis | @glitchwalking | @glamourwitchcraft | @quamxmulti | @fudox | @eldfic | @oz-answers | @electrifyingstitches | @howlkissed | @airxn​ | @bestiadeluna​ | @best-wolf-boi​ | @purpleshopkeep​ | @karismatickitty​ | @lcbotomy​ | @lxrosalita​ | @zgords​ | 

[slothgiirl]

Gold Dust Woman part 1

pjo x mcu fusion: annabeth is iron man

crossposted on a03

It’s been twenty eight day since she was kidnapped. Annabeth would know this even if she wasn’t scratching a line into the wooden boards she called a bed every day. In situations like this, it was important to keep track of time. It keeps her from becoming disoriented, it keeps things in perspective.

Like how tomorrow the car battery that she has hooked up to her heart, that’s powering her heart, will give out, spent, and she’ll die.

Unless her miniature arc reactor works.

It has to.

Annabeth has spent countless nights awake, pouring over the math and plans. she flips through the pages and pages of sketches. Carefully combs through the numbers for any mistake, any miscalculation, until her eyes swim. In some ways its not all that different from home, where she’d spent days shut up in her lab, dreaming up new technology only to turn around and sell it to the military.

The arc reactor had been written off as a publicity stunt. An inefficient source of clean energy. A pipe dream no one had bothered chasing. Not even her when the math hadn’t worked on to make it feasible, she’d just shrugged, downed her scotch, and moved on to the next big contract.

She’d been so caught up in research and development, in making weapons, that she had lost track of things. Or maybe she didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to think about the people she’d killed. The blood on her hands.

If she’d bothered to keep track, maybe no one in her company would’ve sold things to the enemy.

If If If. She was going to drive herself crazy thinking about all the things she shouldn’ve done.

Annabeth didn’t have time for that.

Not here. She won’t die here in this godforsaken cave, not before she can put things right. Not before she can start to make amends.

She refuses to let death be her legacy.

“I’m here if you need steadier hands,” Armeen Hephaestus utters over to her from his own spot, carefully stripping down the weapons and tools they’ve been given according to her own schematics.

Every moment they waste not working on her plan is another second in which the 10 Rings might turn around and decide to kill them.

“It’s alright,” she answers, not bothering to look up. Annabeth hates relying on others, hates that she won’t be able to insert the arc reactor herself, might die unable to do anything to save herself if it fails. “Just stick to the plan.”

The words tumble out harshly in the soft light of the cave, lightbulbs flickering. The  electric grid thats been rigged up is horribly inefficient, but Annabeth isn’t about to tell her captors that.

Her hands don’t shake as she places the last pieces in and waits for the flicker. For the arc reactor to power on if she’s rights about the math and she always is, this should generate more power than it consumes. It won’t be perfect.

But it’ll keep her alive and that’s good enough for now.

Annabeth sighs in relief as it flickers softly, before a steady white light comes on light. She can’t wait to see the look on Arachne’s face when Annabeth shows her what she did with their publicity stunt.

If she makes it out alive.

No. She puts the arc reactor down, turning to call over Hephaestus, she can’t think like that.

“Come on Armeen,” she tells him, “I can’t wait to stop lugging around this battery.”

It’s been twenty eight days and Annabeth wonders where Thalia is, leading the search over the vast deserts of Afghanistan.

It doesn’t really matter.

The 10 Rings was right, they’ll never find her here. There’s just to much ground to cover.

That’s fine. Annabeth’s only ever been able to rely on herself and she’ll get herself out of here and Hephaestus too.

Then she’ll make sure Chase Industries never manufactures another weapon again.

*

Six shots in, a glass of champagne in hand for the occasion and Annabeth is bubbly. Is open and friendly in the addictive way she can never manage sober. Her smile feels foreign but the man who’s wrapped his arms about her, his hand covering hers before they throw the dice and watch it hit the roulette before landing on one of their winning numbers, he’s fun and hot and she likes one night stands. They’re easy.

“Yay,” she giggles, turning to him, giving up on his name when her thoughts feel so disconnected.

“You must be my good luck charm,” he grins, looking boyishly charming as he does.

It’s such a cliche, fitting in perfectly in Vegas.

Grover rolls his eyes, clearing finding the line beyond cheesy, from his spot on her right, the rest of her bodyguards spread out around.

“Yeah,” she replies airily, downing her champagne and distantly wondering if its to late to upgrade the targeting systems on the Medusa Missiles. Her mother never acknowledged anything less then perfection. It was a trait she’d passed on to her, along with her grey eyes and height.

No, both her parents had been tall.

He kisses her, lips saturated with beer, and Annabeth mindlessly goes along, wishing men weren’t so into beer. It never tastes good. And cocktails were so much better at getting people drunk faster.

“Lets go again,” he suggests.

“I’m game,” she answers, signaling for another drink.

Annabeth doesn’t really have time for this, she’s leaving Vegas in an hour back to San Francisco. But maybe he’d like a free ride to SF?

“Annabeth,” Thalia calls out, meeting Jack’s? drunk and carefree gaze with her own steely one, the same look she gave Annabeth overtime she found her less them sober, falling over and refusing Grover’s assistance, “you missed the ceremony.”

It’s the chastising of someone who’s already given up hope of getting through, hand wrapped around a glass award.

The reason she’d come to Vegas.

“Vegas is so fun,” she replies, dismissing the man and falling into step besides Thalia, away from the gambling tables, “and yet you want me to spend my time here in a room full of corporate assholes?”

It does the trick, Thalia laughs, “so long as you make it to the plane for-,”

“I know,” she cuts off, “gosh mom there’s a reason I have a nanny!” She takes the trophy from Thalia before she can think to try and smash her head in with it, “I’m sure Katie’ll find a great place to put this were it’s not ostentatious.” Next tool the other awards.

“Pretty sure you gave up any hope of that when you built a hose overlooking the bay,” Thalia replies, her uniform looking nice and starched. She was at home in uniform more than Annabeth could hope to be in a dress, but it was Vegas and it felt right when she’d decided on the Cushnie. Now she was missing her comfortable suits. “do you have any clue how much real-estate is going for in San Fransisco these days?”

“It’s on the cliffs,” Annabeth adds with a grin at her old friend. They’d been at MIT together, back when Thalia had over-dyed black hair and  ripped band t shirts, perpetually wearing sandals even in winter.

“Let me know when you want to settle down,” Thalia teases, “I’d love to be a trophy wife.”

“I thought they’d reinstated don’t ask don’t tell now with the new administration,” Annabeth wonders out loud.

Thalia nudges her side lightly, “don’t even get me started. I risk my life serving this country and this is the thanks I get back home! This is who the country votes for?”

The limo pulls up and Grover opens the door up for her, forever the gentleman.

Annabeth laughs at Thalia, “You know what they say, there’s no rest for the wicked. See you in a few.”

Tahlia shakes her head as she walks aways.

Annabeth grins and steps towards the open car door.

Before she can slide into the car and head home, a voice calls out behind her, “Ms. Chase do you have anything to say on the situation in Afghanistan.”

She looks at Glover, who helplessly shrugs, “I guess he’s hot. I don’t know. I’m only Juniper-sexual.”

Annabeth turns around, facing a rather handsome man, tall, broad shoulders and chiseled chin. It just reminds her of everything she’s not. This is the person that the military would love to deal with, not her. Not another Chase woman.

“Go for it,” she says with a grin, forcing herself no to pull down on her dress, it’s supposed to be this short. Maybe she needed a new tailor?

“Annabeth Chase, you’ve been called the Da Vinci of our times,” he starts, making her beam despite herself, she’s always a fool for flattery, “what do you have to say to that?”

“I do what I can to contribute to society, to making a better world.” It’s one of those vague statements her PR handlers had drilled into her. Harmless regardless of any context.

“What about your other nickname? The Merchant of Death? What do you have to say to that,” there’s teeth to his smile this time, a crusader then. Another reporter out to change the world.

“Let me guess, Berkeley ,” she says in lieu of an answer, the school was infamous for their many protests.

“Boston U actually.”

Annabeth nods. “Well, it’s an imperfect world we live in. I guarantee the day weapons are no longer needed to defend this country and it’s peoples freedoms I’ll start making bricks and solar panels.” She pauses, crossing her arms in front of her. This was the thing about dresses, where was she supposed to stuff her hands into? “My mother used to say that peace was having a bigger stick than the other side,” Annabeth says with a shrug. Athena had never spoken those words to her, but she’d parroted them often enough to the press. “And isn’t peace what we all want?”

He grins like he’s in on the joke, only highlighting how handsome he is, dark skin and even darker eyes, “interesting words coming from the woman selling the sticks.”

Even she grins at this, genuine for the first time all night. “What’s you name?”

“Isaiah, Isaiah Levey from Vanity Fair magazine.”

“Well Isaiah,” Annabeth replies, liking the way his name sounds on her lips, liking the look of him even more, “My mother helped defeat the nazis, she worked on the Manhattan project, she developed technology that propelled us into space and is now used in computers and phones. A lot of people, including your professors at Boston, would call that being a hero.”

Isaiah fires back, “A lot of people would also call that war profiteering.”

Annabeth’s lips draw thin, as the alcohol that’s kept her buzzed for the last hour wears off, “Tell me, do you plan on including the countless lives we’ve save through advancements in medical care and agricrops? All those breakthroughs,” she says pointedly, “military funding.”

“Wow,” he says shaking his head, “you ever lose an hour of sleep your whole life?”

And just like the fuckboys Katie always complains about, like she didn't somehow incorporate flannel into all of her outfits, she utters, “I’m prepared to lose a few with you.”

She might be off-putting at the best of times, and not half as beautiful as the wives of her fellow billionaires, but confidence could more than make of for those shortcomings.

Isaiah shrugs helplessly, grin on his lips, and he slides into the limo with her.

*

It’s been seventy nine days since she’d watched a humvee blow up. It was a lot nastier up close then in testing facilities out in Nevada, where distance made the explosion look beautiful.

Before she could register that they were under attack, before she could react and put her drink down or maybe finish it off and hope it was just a nightmare, the solider in the front. . .R-something. . .Reyes?. . .maybe it was Ramirez? Was telling her to get down, the words barely leaving her mouth before a gunshot splattered her brains reminiscent of a Pollock, body falling over like a puppet that had its strings cut.

Annabeth had looked around stupidly. She didn’t know what to do. More gunshots. More blood.

There had been smoke and dust and she couldn’t see anything, couldn’t even see her enemy until she heard the gunshots, seconds before they made contact, ripping through the Humvee like it was made of cardboard.

She crawls out, dodging behind the nearest rock, in too much shock. Her hand goes reflexively to her necklace, thumbing over the beads. More gunshots. There’s no way to know where to go. Who’s her enemy and where she should run too so she just stays hurled behind the rocks.

Annabeth wants to slap herself, throat choked on a scream. Everyone likes to believe they’d react the right way in a fight or flight situation but theres no right way and oh my god she’s going to die.

Then there was the missile, landing just close enough for her to make out the logo, the same logo she’d learned to recognize when she was still learning to write, Chase Industries and then the explosion and then nothing.

It’s night.

And the 10 rings members are suddenly filing in, guns locked and loaded.

Annabeth knows its night because the shifts changed. Even with their rotating shifts and change in partners, she’d quickly memorized their faces. Besides, at night, they yawn more.

They yell in their various languages, strutting around and throwing their weight before a bald man clicks his fingers, his face hard, with a glee in his eyes that speaks to a sadistic nature.

They grab for Armeen, dragging him before the bald man, knocking him to his knees.

The bald man must be the leader. Head held high, back straight as though he’s looking down at everyone. He can’t be much taller than her.

Annabeth might be tall for a woman, but she’s only average in comparison to most men and Hephaestus is taller than most. He’s also lanky, hands rough from hard labour. Not a handsome man with his large nose and small chin, eyes lost behind thick glasses.

He’s her friend and when they bring a hot iron rod to his mouth she finds herself yelling, “NO,” moving forward against her better judgement.

All the guns in the room point at her.

She blinks, realizing that no matter how valuable she is, how rich she is, how smart she is, they won’t hesitate to shoot. Their patience has worn through.

“I need him,” she utters, her protest sounding weak to her own ears, “he’s a good assistant.” She won’t have anymore blood on her hands. He has a wife and kids back home.

Annabeth only has Thalia. People she pays probably don’t count. Grover and Katie’ve no doubt found a new job.

She would’ve.

Then again, there’s a reason everyone’s always found her cold.

“You have twenty four hours to give me a Medusa Missile  or I’ll shoot you both,” the bald man spits, “I don’t care who you are you bitch!”

She doesn’t wince anymore. The words cold bitch have long trailed after her.

The man kicks Hephaestus aside, before turning to leave.

Then their gone.

A look at him and they both know they’re in for a long night if her plan’s going to work, if they’re going to escape.

*

Annabeth wakes up at six in the morning on the dot the same way she has every day since boarding school.

Isaiah is still sleeping when she slips out of her room and down her lab.

Katie’ll take care of him later.

Katie’ll also let her know when it’s time to go, the only person aside from herself who knows the password down to her lab, her heels click on the glass steps.

“You are supposed to be halfway around the world,” she utters already scrolling through her ChasePad, a prototype of the latest version that was still in development, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“How’d she take it,” Annabeth says, pivoting while she looks over her latest engine, finding that the Lamborgini, no matter how nice it looked, handled like shit.

“Like a champ,” Katie replies.

“Why’re you trying to kick me out of my own house,” Annabeth asks, shifting her weight onto her other leg before it can fall asleep, the last few screws falling into places. At first it was just a matter of replacing the wheels and suspension, but once she looked under the hood, Annabeth knew she could do better.

“Your flight was scheduled to leave an hour and a half ago,” Katie says curtly. Grover must have told her how much she drank last night.

“You know, I do know my limit,” she responds, “and it’s my plane so shouldn’t it take off whenever I want it to?” She’s being ridiculous, Annabeth knows this, but. . .she doesn’t know.

She won’t see Katie for a three days. It’s not long in the grand scheme of things. . .

Katie ignores her, barreling on, “Social drinking is a stepping stone to alcoholism and I need to speak to you about a couple things, before I send you on your way.”

“I mean whats the point of a private plane if I’m still subjected to boarding times.” Grover had told her once about commercial flights and Annabeth had felt something inside her wither and die. It probably came with never having to deal with anything money couldn’t fix.

Maybe she should get out more, talk to people other than her employees and those with a vested interest in her company.

“Xiao called, she has another Jackson Pollock lined up for the auction, do you want it? Yes or no.” Annabeth couldn’t see any point to splatter paint, there was no technique or point really. She much preferred the carefully rated indian and egyptian art pieces. There was the greek technical prowess in sculpture and paintings, coming the closest to lifelike. But her dad had lover abstract art and modern art.

So, “yes,” she answers, turning around and gladly downing the last of her cup of water. Her head was still pounding even after the two pills she’d taken this morning. Hangovers were the thing that would knock down any impending alcoholism Katie kept nagging her about.

“It’s overpriced,” Katie informs her, “and not a great representation of his later renowned work.”

“I said yes Katie,” she sighs, hearing the snap in her own voice, scrambling to add, “it’ll be like those parents who hang up all their kids drawing from preschool.” Her mother had never done that, waving annabeth away until she’d come back with her first circuit board, lines deep around her mouth as she’d frowned and told her the how inefficient it was.

Katie smiles, “Okay. The MIT commencement-,”

“Is in June,” annabeth says walking up to the main floor, “nice try.”

“Well if I have to hear it then you have to hear it,” Katie teases, easily, the clack of heels on concrete a tell tale sign that she’s following close behind.

“Didn’t I hire you to hear it so I don’t have to,” Annabeth snipes back, knowing Katie won’t take it the wrong way. They’ve been working together for to long.

“I’ll take that as a yes and I need you to sign this,” she says offering up a long and complicated paper with fine print as they reach the main living room, her duffle bag and carry on already prepared for her.

“Wow you’re really trying to get rid of me. Why?” It’s blunt, the way Annabeth has learned to be in the corporate world and military world where old men will look down on her and call her girl.

“I have plans.”

Annabeth makes a face, “I don’t like it when you have plans.”

Katie rolls her eyes, “first of all that’s why we have unions and workers rights and secondly I’m allowed to have plans on my birthday.”

Annabeth winces. She’d forgotten. She relied so much on Katie to remind her of all her appointments and meeting, and she could hardly tell Katie to reminder of her birthday. “Is it? This weekend?” It must be November then.

That explained all the christmas decorations that had been up in Vegas.

“Yes,” Katie responds, smothering a laugh, “isn’t that strange? It’s the same day as last year.”

“Well, buy yourself something nice from me.” Annabeth never knew what people wanted and it just didn’t seem practical to guess. That’s how people ended up with something useless, that they didn’t want, and then had to figure out what to do with; regift it, throw it aways, or have ti sit in the back of your closet.  

“I already did.”

“Is it a new and exotic species of plant,” She asks knowingly. Katie had a way with plants, managing to keep even orchids alive.

“Thank you,” Katie says with a soft smile, before thrusting Annabeth’s luggage at her and pushing her out the door where Grover awaits with the ferrari, one designed by the great Nikki Lauda, the splashiest thing her father ever owned. It had only needed minor adjustments.

Annabeth laughs and helps Grover throw her luggage in.

*

The suit works, she flies for a full fifteen seconds before crashing, just long enough to escape the fireball of explosions she leaves behind.

Along with Hephaestus.

Dead.

Another death on her hands.

Even in February, the deserts of Afghanistan are scorching hot, dry, her eyes are strained after spending almost three months in darkness, only broken by weak lighting.

In comparison the sun a entirely too bright, too much.

Her throat arched, a strip of fabric wrapped around her head as a makeshift hat, keeping some of the sun off her.

The sun keeps her going, orients her because the sun always east and sets in the west, no matter what part of the world she’s in, ignoring how everywhere she looks out to looks the same. Sand, and more fucking sand.

It’s been eighty days since she was kidnapped.

they must still be searching for her. Thalia wouldn’t abandon her. Besides she’d Annabeth Chase, billionaire wonderkid, child of the late great Athena Chase.

But the fear of wondering forever, until she collapses and dies nags at her.

There’s just so much sand.

Vast planes spreading out beyond her as she leaves the mountains at her back.

What are the chances of-Thalia. . .

. . .Thalia finding her. . .

She hears the sounds first, the beautiful roaring of army craft, too steady too be of any make other than the united states government.

It’s the most wonderful sound she’s ever heard.

Her hands spread out, waving over. . .

Holy shit! Holy fucking shit!

It worked!

Something in her chest loosens, a weight, the panic that’s been kept at bay by adrenalin, by need and focus, hummingbird panic that makes her arc reactor flicker in the bright daylight of the desert, worlds away from the gloomy rain of San Fransisco in the winter.

She can breath now.

She’s alive.

Alive.

A live.

It feels like something that belongs to someone else. The drinks and parties and work and billions in the bank.

That can’t be. . .her.

The image of her own missile landing right in front of her forever seared into the backs of her eyelids.

Thalia walks down and out of the aircraft, soldiers fanning out with heavy automatic arms pointed out into the desert plains.

Annabeth can breath now. She smiles, falling into Thalia’s arms, into her embrace. She’s never been more glad to see Thalia’s dark blue eyes, almost black in some light.

“How was the fun-vee?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Annabeth hears herself say and then she’s gone. Exhausted down to her bones. The weight of running for months on adrenalin finally catching up to her and she blacks out, sliding into R.E.M. sleep for the first time since SF.

Later Thalia’ll tell her she was debriefed and gave coherent answers before downing some crackers and a coke, getting a quick medical checkup, before they let her sleep.

She doesn’t remember a thing after she see’s Thalia. Her very own godly apparition.