#this is like... the least triggering fic out of every one i've done wow

[decks-writing-blog]

Gordon Swap Chapter Six: Remembered

Chapter One

Previous Chapter

[A/N] I finished writing the fic! Yay! It's 14 chapters and an epilogue. I'm pretty sure this is the longest Gen fic I've ever written. Though there are points in which how much I ship Frenrey probably comes through at least a little bit but it's not a major part of the fic.

~

“Dr. Freeman.” The world froze as the voice echoed oddly around Gordon.

He snapped around to face it, raising his shotgun. It was the man in the suit, the one who’d been following and watching him! His finger tensed on the trigger but… didn’t pull it. Creepy as the man was, he hadn’t done anyone any harm that Gordon knew of. So instead he took his hand off the bottom of the gun to sign a one-handed, “Who are you?”

The guy stared at him in silence for a beat, his face unreadable. “It seems a mix up has occurred while I was occupied. You’re not the one I’d intended to have this little chat with. Fixing this would be… let’s just say, ‘difficult’ for now. I suppose I am curious though. We’ll see what happens, shall we? And as for who I am, that’s not important. We shall met again at some point in the future.”

And with that, just as quickly as he’d appeared, the man was gone again. The world flowed back into motion with his vanishing. Weird. That confirmed something supernatural was up with that guy though. Gordon had suspected as much based off his appearing so often in places not easily accessible.

He glanced around at the group – missing Benrey who’d apparently wondered off for some reason, perhaps to look for this universe’s Gordon – as far as he could tell none of them seemed aware anything had happened. The man had mentioned a ‘mix up’ though. Which meant at seemingly little more than a glance, he’d somehow known that one had occurred. How could he tell so quickly? Did he know the other Gordon that well? Answer likely weren’t coming any time soon.

It did lend more weight to their alternate universe theory though. That was good. Knowing what was going on should make it easier to fix after the more pressing problem was taken care of.

“Why are you just standing there?” Bubby said, snapping Gordon’s attention back onto him frowning at him. “I thought you were from an alternate universe where people never slow down.”

Rolling his shoulders, Gordon turned back towards the exit. There was indeed no time to stand around, wondering about whatever had just happened. Besides, the guy had said he’d be seeing him again later. He could try to get answer then.

Coomer was already at the metal doors as they finished opening. “Look, not-Gordon, a revolving door.” He pointed it at even as he walked into it, his tone similar to what one would use when talking to a small child. The door spun with him for a couple seconds before screeching to a halt, apparently stuck on something or broken somehow. “Help me, not-Gordon.” Perhaps he was claustrophobic.

Gordon quickly pulled out the crowbar and broke the glass in the door, allowing him to step through and break the glass on the next part of the door too. It was surprisingly easy to clear the whole opening by scraping the crowbar along the edges of the glass to knock it all out. One would think the glass used in such a construct would be sturdier. Oh well. Just for good measure, Gordon broke every pane of glass the door had, doubling back through the door to do so, leaving a crunchy glittering carpet of broken glass on the floor. They were all wearing good shoes though so it was fine… hopefully.

“Wow, not-Gordon, I guess that’s what we’re calling you now,” Bubby said once he was finally done and rejoining them on the other side. “Was all that destruction really necessary?”

Gordon shrugged. Probably not but he liked breaking things. Not a new thing, he’d always enjoyed the sound of shattering glass in particular, but the stress of the situation made the outlet of destruction even more appealing. No time to dwell on that though. He turned away and resumed walking.

~

“I feel bad about our Mr. Freeman.” Tommy spoke softly, not addressing Gordon who lead the way through the tunnel, ears strained for the military – they’d into several already more had to be nearby. “He’s uh… he’s all alone and he probably thinks we abandoned him.”

“And betrayed him.” Coomer didn’t bother lowering his voice. “Which certain members of our group did indeed do.” No obvious bitterness in his voice, seemingly just a statement of fact.

“They lied to me.” Clearly Bubby was among that ‘certain members of our group’. “I didn’t know they were going to do that to him and I certainly didn’t tell them to. So it’s not my fault they cut off his hand.”

So Bubby and at least one other in the group – probably Benrey given the conversation the three of them had had when Gordon met Bubby in the tube – had betrayed their Gordon. A misunderstanding apparently, but still not a great thing to learn about them. They should know better than to pull such a move again though so Gordon was fine. Plus if they did, he could just reset.

Other him was probably going to be pissed if they ever found their way back to him. A future problem though that didn’t really affect Gordon so he wasn’t going to worry about it. Unlike the military encampment up ahead, the sounds of it quickly growing audible as they made their way around the bend in the tunnel. And was that the a… helicopter? Sure sounded like one. Damn it. Things had just got a bit harder. He had companions, some of them super-powered – even if one of which was currently missing – now though so maybe it evened out.

~

“User death imminent. Seek medical attention.”

“Oh no! Don’t die Mr. Freeman or uh… not-Mr. Freeman. Even though you are him, just a… a different him. But uh… don’t die. Dying’s bad.”

Gordon would’ve liked a choice in that matter but even the HEV suit could only take so much fire from a damn attack helicopter.

“For three Play Coinstm I could heal you to full.”

What was a Play Cointm? It was easier to just keep his eyes closed and just die than try to figure it out. Probably he didn’t have any anyway. So he didn’t fight it as his blood filled his suit.

He blinked open his eyes back in the tunnel, just before the bend leading to the dam.

“They lied to me,” Bubby said. “I didn’t know they were going to do that to him and I certainly didn’t tell them to. So it’s not my fault they cut off his hand. Why are we stopping?”

“Uh… uh… Mr. Freeman… or not-Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said as he rushed ahead to stand in front of Gordon, gesturing excitedly with his hands. “It’s you! You’re uh… doing the thing with time. You died and… and… now we’re here. How’d you do that?”

He remembered?! No one else Gordon had encountered had remembered. Trying to explain had gotten him a pitying look; the kind of look one gave someone who’d lost their mind due to stress. But Tommy remembered!

“Watch out for the helicopter, not-Gordon,” Coomer said. “Its gun can shred through the HEV’s power and medi-gel quicker than normal handheld guns.” Did he remember too?

“There’s a helicopter up ahead?” Bubby asked. “And what was that about Gordon dying, Tommy? He didn’t die… did he?”

“I think he might have,” Coomer said. “I’m… not sure though. And I’m not sure why I’m not sure. I don’t remember it happening but… I have a rather odd feeling that it did. So he might’ve died and there might be a helicopter ahead that killed him.”

“He died,” Tommy said with certainty. “And then time went back. It’s uh… been happening occasionally for a little while now. It wasn’t sure what it was but um, I realized just now because I was watching as he died and then time went back right when he did so it’s gotta be him. Right, Mr. Freeman? Or uh… or do you not remember. Time stuff is weird sometimes.”

Gordon lifted a hand to sign, “Yes,” nodding along with it. “I remember. I think it’s because of the Resonance Cascade.”

“I uh… don’t know what the means, Mr. Freeman, other than the ‘yes’ anyway.”

With a sigh, Gordon switched to spelling, slowly so Tommy could read it.

“C. A. S. C. A. D. E.” Tommy read the letters out as Gordon signed them. “That spells uh… ‘cascade’ so you’re saying that um…”

“It’s got something to do with the Resonance Cascade,” Bubby interrupted. “It gave you superpowers or something?”

“Yes.”

“He said, ‘Yes’,” Tommy translated. Though with how simple and obvious ‘yes’ was, was it really needed?

“Congratulations on your superpowers, not-Gordon. You no longer need to fear death.” Coomer gave him a thumbs up. He didn’t sound or look surprised by it at all. That was fine though because he and Tommy still remembered. Or at least, he sort of remembered which was a lot as far as Gordon was concerned. He could just about hug Tommy for remembering entirely.

“Wait, wait,” Bubby lifted his hands as he stepped forward. “If time resets when he dies that basically undoes it, right? So that makes three of our group, if we still counting Benrey as part of the group anyway, that don’t fucking die. What about you two?” He gestured to Tommy and Coomer.

Coomer raised his hand. “I have built in defibrillators. They’ve brought me back three times since the start of this adventure, four times total.”

“Huh? I guess that makes sense.” Bubby turned to Tommy next. “What about you?”

“Um… you know… I don’t know, maybe. I haven’t died so I guess we’ll see if I ever do.”

Bubby gave him a long hard stare. The silence held long enough to be almost uncomfortable before Bubby casually drew his gun and shot Tommy before Gordon could do more than take a step towards him to try to stop him. Tommy flinched a little but it seemed to be more from the sound than the bullet. There wasn’t a mark on him despite the fact that there was no way Bubby could’ve missed when so close. … A bit too close for comfort but good to know.

“That’s what I thought.” Bubby holstered his gun as he stepped back. “You just don’t fucking die.”

“That’s like an advanced form of coming back from the dead.” Coomer still didn’t sound surprised or even upset that Bubby had tried to kill Tommy.

Bubby turned to Gordon. “What is the likelihood of this? None of us stay dead and Tommy can’t die. That kinda thing’s gotta be rare, right? How’d we all end up traveling together like this?”

Gordon shrugged as Tommy said, “Fate… maybe. It is kinda weird though, huh?”

Were either of them going to ask Bubby about him clearly counting himself as part of the ‘didn’t stay dead’ group? … Probably not. They both seemed to accept it as normal. Gordon was the only one who wanted to know more. Not just about Bubby but Tommy too. And Coomer had to have some pretty high tech implants to not just bring him back several times but still be so hale and hearty afterwards.

More than just others knowing, Gordon wasn’t alone in being able to die and come back from it. The question of how and why for himself had grown banal – death hurt, the less he thought about it, the better. Finally though, he had people he could theoretically talk about it with. But he couldn’t easily do so and none of them seemed surprised by it. If there was a whiteboard nearby… but there wasn’t. And they were on a mission that was best completed as soon as possible. Damn it. Later, Gordon would ask them about the how and why of it all later.

First came getting past the helicopter. Fighting it clearly hadn’t been the way to go. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to turn around and resume travel.

~

“Taste it, not-Gordon taste it.” Coomer was an odd man but still what an odd request… demand? No it was a request.

It wasn’t sewer water though, no matter what any of them said or what colour it was. Sewer water didn’t go through dams. So once they reached land, after pulling himself up out the water, Gordon turned back to it to cup some of it into his hands and taste it, as requested. … It was gritty with dirt and tasted like mud. Gross and probably not potable but not sewage.

“Holy fuck, not-Gordon,” Bubby said. “You’re even more of a nasty little sewage boi than our Gordon.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually taste it,” Coomer added.

What an odd bunch. Good traveling companions though. The humor they added made everything feel less bleak.

Bending down again, Gordon got some mud on his finger and wrote on the wall next to them. ‘Mudd’ There wasn’t enough for the ‘y’ but it should still get the point across.

“I think he’s saying it’s just muddy water,” Tommy translated. “Not sewage. Which uh… does make more sense. It doesn’t smell as bad as the residue processing place did.”

Bubby gave the water skeptical look. “I guess so. But that makes you a nasty little mud boi instead.”

Gordon was willing to accept that label. He had just taken a sip of muddy water because Coomer had told him to after all. So with a shrug, he turned and resumed going forward.

~

The sound was enough to make Gordon wish he could turn off his hearing implants but the thing itself was fascinating. Biblically accurate helicopter was the only way to describe it. It was an angel. Oh what Gordon wouldn’t give to be the one in its pilot seat.

“What the hell is that?” was maybe what Bubby shouted. It was hard to tell over the roar of the mechanical angel’s engine. Whatever Coomer responded with was drowned out entirely.

A rocket flew past, getting a direct hit on the flying monstrosity. A glance over confirmed it was Bubby. He’d taken the rocket launcher they’d found in the alcove before Gordon could. Not that he needed it, he had so many guns magnetized to the suit already. And now Bubby was trying to kill the angel helicopter with it.

It wasn’t firing back though. Whatever angelic or perhaps demonic power the military had harnessed to bring this thing into existence clearly couldn’t cover everything. … Unless the noise was it’s whole purpose. A distraction and to drown out other more directly deadly things.

Shifting his hold on the shotgun to a ready stance, Gordon looked all around. Not much to see but a gorgeous view and the angel helicopter. Best not to dawdle though. He got moving, walking as fast as he dared along the thin edge towards the ladder. Reaching it meant he had to put his shotgun back on his shoulder so he climb up, leaving him so, so exposed. He climbed as fast as he possibly could.

Up top, the ledge next to it jutted out further than below, making it a doubly relief to reach. Nothing was up here either.

Looking down gave him a top view of the angel helicopter. How it even steered was a mystery. It went around in a seemingly random pattern, spinning as it did so. Dangerous only in potential hearing damage. That lack of lethalityis part of what made it appealing. Probably it was the only good thing to come out of the US military.

“Let’s get the hell away from that thing,” Bubby said as he reached the top of the ladder.

Alas, Gordon couldn’t make a good argument to stay and find out more about how the odd flying machine functioned instead. So he turned and started marching onwards once more, trusting the others to follow.

Benrey was still missing. How was he going to catch up to them? … Maybe he didn’t intend to. He was off looking for their Gordon. Perhaps Benrey had a special attachment to him or was just the one who happened to volunteer to go back for him in case a swap hadn’t occurred and other-Gordon was instead wondering around alone back there. He’d be okay though, seemingly he couldn’t die after all.

~

Bubby and Tommy in particular had a tendency to be uncomfortably casual with where they pointed their guns. Bad enough that Gordon, unable to properly say anything to them about it, began pushing the barrels of their guns down every time he caught them at it – especially after Bubby causal shooting of Tommy, he felt justified in doing so. If they accidentally pulled the trigger and shot him, it would suck but between the HEV suit and his time reset, he wasn’t too worried about it.

Coomer was decent about it right up until he wasn’t anymore. Gordon didn’t have time to do more than realize that the scientist hiding in the corner looked distinctly like Coomer before he was dead to a shotgun blast to the face. His head exploded, splattering his brain matter across the wall behind him as his body fell life to the floor.

“Another clone down.” Coomer’s voice was cheery as ever, as he pumped the shotgun. He then started to turn as if to continue onward.

Gordon raised an arm to stop him.

He turned to face him, looking up with the same expression as before. “Hello, not-Gordon! I’m getting thirsty.”

Tapping the back of his hand, where the metal of the HEV suit’s gauntlets was against his forearm, drew the others’ attention. “C.L.O.N.E.?” he spelled out, Tommy repeating each letter.

“He wants to know why you killed your clone?” Bubby said. “I think, maybe, I don’t know.”

Gordon gave him a thumbs up because that was exactly what he wanted to know. Also if that had been Coomer’s clone to begin with. It was possible; rumors sourced from Barney’s guard pals said that a Dr. Coomer had once been involved in a failed cloning project. It might not have failed here and thus, it might’ve indeed been a clone. That didn’t warrant killing though, did it?

“When one of my clones die, I grow stronger.”

Did that warrant it though? Gordon gestured at him to continue. He lowered his other hand towards his pistol. Resetting this was still an option. Right in front of them would make it more uncomfortable but did the clones deserve to die merely for being clones and their deaths providing a benefit to presumably the original?

It was Tommy who answered. “Also the clones get scary and violent sometimes. I ran into a bunch of them when I was looking for Mr. Freeman… uh, our Mr. Freeman, not you… not-Mr. Freeman. It was scary.” He had mentioned that before; when he’d first come in. The following conversation had been a distraction from it but it indeed wasn’t news. “So um, killing them one by one as we run into them is probably easier and safer.”

The clone just killed hadn’t seemed violent though. He’d been hiding much like the normal scientists did. But they were without a doubt Black Mesa experiments and this whole disaster was a result of another experiment. Dangerously violent phenomenon that needed to be stopped wasn’t even all that uncommon; working for Black Mesa had a lot upsides but that didn’t make it an ethical company. So perhaps these guys were well justified in killing Coomer’s clones. Meaning Gordon should probably trust them on it, huh?

So with a sigh, he stepped back and turned to resume going forward.

~

“A hole,” Bubby said as he caught up, indicating the hole Gordon had found in the roof.

“Look, not-Gordon, a hole!” Coomer announced as he caught up too.

And of course Tommy wasn’t too far behind. “You found a hole, Mr. Freeman.”

He sure had but he was giving it good thorough look before jumping down lest it be another trap. It seemed fine but it was also dark down there. Though big enough to fit a person, it wasn’t much bigger than that, making seeing much in the room below even with the HEV’s flashlight shining down into it difficult.

“What are we waiting for?” Bubby didn’t wait for an answer before jumping down. Coomer and Tommy quickly followed, basically right on his heels. … No sound of gunfire or violence in general so… Gordon jumped down too.

Boxes lined the small room; a storage closest. On one of the boxes sat a skeleton and on one next to it, Benrey. How he’d gotten ahead of them didn’t matter, it was nice to see him again. Gordon walked up and patted on him lightly on the shoulder in way of welcoming him back.

The look Benrey gave him in return was unreadable. Disappointment perhaps? Gordon wasn’t going to try to guess.

“Hey guys,” he said, addressing the group as he broke eye-contact with Gordon. “I made a friend.” He gestured to the skeleton. “He’s uh… he’s cool. Got his passport and everything, all good to go and stuff.”

“You find our Mr. Freeman?” Tommy asked. “Assuming that’s uh… why you left this time. ‘Cause it was right after we found out this isn’t him and I know you uh… like him or something, I think. You seem to anyway. Maybe you just like bothering him.”

“I found a blood trail, starting ‘bout were they jumped him and stuff. Led to a metal closest, then stopped. Nothing inside. It sparked a bit when I closed the door but that’s it. Boring.” Ah, that machine was for sure busted then.

“That’s might be the machine that swapped him with this Gordon,” Bubby said, gesturing to Gordon.

Gordon lifted a hand to sign a quick, “Yes,” in agreement with that idea since that was his theory too, before turning his full attention onto the skeleton. As he approached it, it looked up at him. Weird but stuff was just weird sometimes.

He was going to have to tell Barney about this later. Apparently that rumor he’d heard about someone in Black Mesa trying to summon a ‘Skeleton King’ that resulted in a bunch of skeletons haunting that part of the facility, might hold some truth after all. Assuming that’s what this skeleton was anyway. It might be something else entirely. Regardless, it didn’t seem inclined towards hostility and thus it could stay if it wanted to.

Turning away, Gordon scanned the room until he found the door behind one of the boxes. He had to move another box to make room to move that box – how had the boxes even ended up in this configuration? Benrey must’ve moved them once in here for some odd reason – before he could go over to the other side to actually push it though…

“This is a good place to rest, don’t you think, not-Gordon,” Coomer said.

It was probably a good place to rest. A box in front of the door would mean anything that got in would wake them before accomplishing that task. The hole in the roof was a bit more of a problem but it had been nestled between the air ducts; Gordon had almost missed it and he’d been looking specifically for a way into this building.

But tired as he was, stopping always grated on his senses. He’d caused this he had to fix it and the sooner he could do so, the less people would ultimately die because of it. And stopping to rest for too long always made it so hard to continue. He could go a little bit longer before he collapsed with exhaustion and so… normally he would. He had companions now though and if they wanted to stop then maybe they should. Someone could keep watch. That should make rest a bit easier to bear.

With a sigh, he rejoined them back in the center of the room and sat down, leaning back against one of the boxes. Lying down felt wrong. So since this all started, the few times he’d slept, he’d done so sitting up, leaning back against something, holding his shotgun to his chest. With someone keeping watch, such wasn’t necessary but he had no intention of not doing so anyway.

He’d have volunteered to keep the first watch but didn’t have the means to do so. Meaning whatever the others decided on, he’d go with. Instead of bringing up that discussion though…

“Good night, not-Gordon,” Coomer said before flopping down onto the floor.

Bubby and Tommy followed suit with their own variations of ‘good night’. Neither Benrey nor the skeleton did though. They just continued sitting there. Benrey was watching Gordon but didn’t seem inclined to start a conversation.

Perhaps the group had a set schedule for who kept watch. Benrey was first maybe? He’d wake whoever was next and so the chain would continue until it was Gordon’s turn. … And so he should get rest while he could. Easier said then done but he closed his eyes anyway.

~

Next Chapter

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Day 22: Hallucination

(We have a message for you.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 22: Hallucination

Word Count: 1787

Relationships: Loceit (minor relationship? kinda)

Warnings: Mentions of mental illness, mild mention of trauma effects, cursing

A/N: okay,,,, ngl i have no idea where this came from. this idea is so dumb and not even really whumpy but i did it anyway lmfao. hey, at least it gave me an excuse to describe the characters in some of my timelines! anyway yeah i love these character designs, no matter how silly/unrealistic they are. they are my babies and i will take them to my grave

“Thomas, can we talk?” his best friend’s voice comes from beside him, speaking up in the silence after the two of them had finished watching a movie. It was comfortable, quiet, just a lazy day today, so they’d come over to hang out and forget about the stress of video-making. Thomas looks up with a cocked eyebrow, asking a question with his eyes as Joan sighs. 

“You… maybe you should see someone,” Joan says, their voice low and concerned, and Thomas doesn’t get it. See who? Like, a doctor? He isn’t sick. So he tells them so, asks what they mean, and they duck their head contemplatively. “You need to see a psychiatrist, or psychologist, or something. I know the videos are fun, and we have these awesome characters. I get it. But you… you think it’s real. You think the sides are real. That’s-- That’s not healthy, Thomas.”

Thomas just laughs, doesn’t even look up as he scrolls through his feed. His phone case is beaten up where it rests in his hand, and Joan shakes their head worriedly. ”Thomas, I’m serious.”

This causes Thomas’ expression to drop immediately, and he turns to them awkwardly. “Wait, you’re serious?” Thomas asks, confusion welling up easily in his head. What are they talking about?

“Yes, I’m serious! You stand here and talk to nothing for hours on end! You think they’re real, and they’re not! You need help, Thomas, please,” Joan begs, rearing back to sit taller in an unconscious show of authority. They don’t want to be mean about this, they really don’t, but if Thomas is in denial about the sides’ existence (or lack thereof), they can’t be sugarcoating everything. They need to be straightforward, because they care about their friend, and to see him hurt would be awful.

“Joan, they are real. You just haven’t been here in person to see them yet,” Thomas says gently, acting as if Joan’s the one who’s being irrational here, and Joan doesn’t think it’s an overreaction when they groan loudly. If Thomas believes that the sides are real and are defending their existence this fervently, then there might be something really wrong with his head, and the worry in Joan’s demeanour is insurmountable.

“Thomas, stop! They aren’t real! They’re in your head. They are in your head. They’re just characters that we made up for a YouTube series, nothing more,” Joan stresses, tries to break through that glass wall of denial that Thomas’ mind has built around itself. From what they know through random Tumblr awareness posts and late-night research, this sounds like a defense mechanism, something Thomas himself isn’t even aware of. But… aren’t brains only supposed to do that after severe trauma? Did something happen to him that Joan doesn’t know about?

“Hey, there’s no need to get upset. I understand, you haven’t seen them yet, and don’t realize that they aren’t just characters. Do you want me to show you?” Thomas asks gently, places his hands up but low in a placating gesture in an attempt to calm them down. Joan isn’t angry, and they wouldn’t lash out or anything, but they are troubled with the thought that there may well be something going on in Thomas’ head that they won’t be able to fix.

“Thomas… please, just. Please stop… don’t do this to yourself, okay?” Joan pleads with him, desperation simmering just beneath the surface ready to boil and spill over at a moment’s notice. The slightest nudge of the heat could send the water hissing to the ground, send tears from their eyes and shouts from their lungs, and they don’t want to accidentally say something they’ll regret. They aren’t angry with Thomas, but they are frustrated, and seeing their friend in this state is taxing in itself.

“No, it’s okay! I’ll show you, ready? Please don’t scream, alright? It’s scary the first time, but once you understand, it’s fine!” Thomas exclaims, happy and careless and he isn’t even listening to them. Fuck, does he need to be, like… forcibly taken to a hospital? This isn’t okay, he’s not okay, and they don’t know what to do anymore.

“Hmm… Logan, Ethan? I need you!”

For a moment, nothing happens, just as Joan expects. Thomas stands there, smile never wavering a single bit, and Joan sighs as they reach up to lay a hand on his shoulder. But before they can, before their eyes, a mist seems to envelope the floor. It’s not a moisture, but more like a haze, where light is distorted and twirling in on itself as if caught in fractals and thrown away from itself. It hurts Joan’s eyes to look at, so he doesn’t, and two people jump up out of the disturbance despite all logic and reason.

“Wha-- What the fuck? Is this a joke? Please tell me this is a practical joke, Thomas, and you just suddenly got really good at doing magic tricks. What the fuck?!” Joan forces out helplessly, bewildered and urgent. They’re…. they’re here. This has to be a trick. It has to be, but it… they look exactly like Thomas. These aren’t some random actors who just happen to share a resemblance with their friend, they could be clones, identical copies without a single mistake in sight.

And.. well, to Thomas’ credit, they do look similar to the characters they have created together. The one that’s clearly Logic has straighter black hair with blue streaks rather than brown, and his irises are a striking silver leading into an electric blue closer to the pupil, but otherwise he looks mostly the same. The only other big physical difference is his body type, which while slim and long and appearing to be tall in an odd sort of optical illusion, he’s actually quite a bit shorter than Thomas is. He’s wearing a soft-looking dark blue sweater, black leggings, and some fuzzy socks as opposed to the character’s typical outfit, but there’s no mistaking him. This is Logan… the real Logan?

The other one (obviously Deceit) is also similar enough, with hair that is a rich, warm chestnut brown, but there also seem to be literal strands of gold braided and looping through the very lightly curled locks. It’s almost mesmerizing, although not as much so as his eyes, which are just as heterochromatic as their beloved character. The right one is the same shade of light grey as Logan’s are, and the left one is a reptilian eye. Not the fake snake eye contact that they’d managed to find online, but a realistic one, a deeper gold and a darker black with depth and texture. He’s short too, somehow even shorter than Logan is, but he’s still quite intimidating despite that. His half-serpentine smirk is soft but empowering, and somehow cancels out a lot of the cuteness of his unexpected outfit. Rather than his signature bowler hat and cape, he wears a black beanie and a huge, thick black hoodie. Sweatpants long enough to cover his feet are draped over his legs, just as comfortable an outfit as Logan’s and Joan realizes that it’s late and they might have been about to sleep. Wait, do sides sleep?

But more than anything, they both have one feature that really stands out, a feature that makes Joan really believe that they might actually be real, that this isn’t just some elaborate prank. For Deceit, it’s the scales. It’s not makeup, not flat colour; they’re real snake scales, a shimmering, pearlescent emerald colour that refracts the light like diamonds. They’re beautiful, they really are, and Joan is almost sad that they haven’t done Character Deceit the justice he deserves, now that they’re faced with Real Deceit.

For Logan, it’s his eyes. Yes, the colour really is pretty if abnormal, the clear silver like liquid metal seeping and blurring into bright sapphire in a ring around his pupils. But that’s not the only thing, because Logan has what looks to be technology in his eyes, power buttons surrounded by slowly spinning lines radiating from the center almost like a circuit-board. They seem like they’re being projected slightly past his actual eyes, like he has a bright blue hologram playing in his vision. It’s… certainly in the realm of science fiction, so it really is aptly fitting, despite how Joan’s brain refuses to accept that this is actually real.

“Wait, you said his name is Ethan? Deceit’s name is Ethan? That’s not what we decided on…” Joan says, and it’s honestly all they can say through their confusion. This is too difficult to process, too perplexing to understand right away, and Joan seriously needs to sit down before they pass out in the middle of the floor. Thomas huffs a laugh as they plop down on the couch, hand rubbing hard at their face to try and clear their head, and he just sits on the edge of the couch beside them.

“Joan, this is Logan and Ethan. Logic and Deceit. They’re real, and they obviously look… differently to how we designed them, but they… this is them. You can take all the time you need; I certainly had to,” Thomas chuckles, gaze distant for a moment as if in the midst of reliving a faraway memory, and Joan just groans and drops their head into cold, waiting palms. 

“Thomas, you know to refrain from calling us here when it’s after one. We’re busy at night, you know that,” Logan speaks up from where the two of them are still standing in the middle of the room. Deceit-- Well, Ethan just shoves his hands in his hoodie pockets, looking down at the floor in an attempt to hide his knowing simpering. What the hell is going on? “Hello, Joan.”

“Yeah, sorry, guys. Just wanted to introduce you to Joan, finally. You can go now,” Thomas reassures them, waves goodbye and smiles when they return the sentiment (including Joan, too, which is simultaneously a thoughtful show of kinesics and mildly terrifying), and then they’re sinking back through the odd fog on the floor that has stayed there the whole time the sides have been standing here. It goes with them, leaving the normal appearance of the carpet to be on display, and this all feels like too much to deal with right now. Joan just wants to go to bed, if they’re being honest.

“Wait… are those two dating?” Joan asks incredulously, a previous comment stuck out in their mind just waiting for the loose thread to be pulled, and Thomas glances over at them. He just laughs silently with sly eyes, body shaking with unvocalized laughter, and Joan picks up the pillow next to them and yells into the fabric.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi!

I'm here for a pretty stupid thing actually but I've always found it annoying to do: summaries for fics. I never know how much is too little, how much is too much, or if what I'm putting is going to make people think “wow this sounds interesting” or “wow what a shit, keep scrolling”

Do you think it is better to make a summary as such, or include some lines from the story? Idk, any advice would be appreciated

Thanks for taking your time to read!

Hugss🥰

Hey Nonny!! *HUGS*

Ah, the bane of all writers... the blasted summary to describe your story in as little words as possible to get people interested. The LITERAL very last thing you have to do on a story. Always a fun time.

And it's daunting and can feel very overwhelming, because, just like in advertising (my professional background), you have a TINY window to grasp people's attention and make them WANT to click on your fic to read. As an avid reader of fanfic, I do have my own preferences on what I look for... but as a professional, I think I can offer some wisdom in this part here, for a change. PLEASE KNOW that this is different for EVERYONE! These are just some things I picked up in my 20 years in advertising, and applying it to – what is essentially – a "classifieds" board for stories.

Attention-Grabbing Title – Not PERTINENT, but the average reader is more likely to continue reading what you have to offer if your headline is interesting. Even one word ones can grab attention. Something whimsical or metaphorical to your story is always a winner.

Short and Concise Description / Call to Action – One to two sentences is an average attention span before someone gets bored and moves on to the next post. You need to entice someone into reading MORE of your summary in those first two sentences, if you have a long summary. Start your summary with the subject of the story. ie. "John has a problem: he's well hung." That example right there will entice someone to read your summary further.

Grammar Check your Summary – BECAUSE the summary is a representation of what's to come in your story, make sure you get that summary spell-checked or beta'd with your beta. It's a small thing, but it can help bring people in, and especially if you're trying to appeal to a language that you're unfamiliar with. Your beta can even help you refine the summary so it's more attention-grabbing.

Rate Your Story – "Not Rated" stories have a lesser chance of being read than something rated. Doesn't matter what it is, just put a rating there. At least, if people are doing a ratings filter, then you will show up in a search result.

If You're Writing a WiP, State the status of your story at the end of your summary. Many people such as myself don't want to start a WiP without the certainty that it will be done. Stating something like "Story is finished, new chapter every Friday" is a GREAT way to get engagement on your story, AND generate excitement and buzz for it from the day-oners. THEY are your advertisers. A LOT of people like the suspense of a week-to-week model... it's why syndicated television is still alive! A lot of our Fandom authors do their stories this way, working on chapters weeks in advance while posting chapters "approved". It gives YOU time to write and proof, while also having a Live / Active WiP Story that will keep people coming back.

So yeah, those are some tips from an advertising standpoint.

As a reader, though, my PERSONAL interest in a fic is based solely on these 4 things:

The Ship Tags – use "/" (slash for Slash-fiction) for romantic and sexual relationships, and "&" for platonic/friendships or non-sexual relationships. I, for a fact, DO filter stories by the ship tags FIRST, so I'm sure other people do too. Make sure that you use them.

The Story Tags – Ao3 has spoiled us with these!... List relevant tags, tropes, Universes, and genres that pertain to your story... these are what help get your story found in the search algorithm. Don't write "tumblr-style tags" (ie. "this story took way too long") into this field. It is a big turn off for many people (myself included), AND it fucks with the Ao3 search results. Use author notes or descriptions to write your Tumblr-style musings! The tags should ONLY contain content within your story that may appeal to people OR help trigger/content warn against stuff. Yes, I understand that many authors poo-poo on "spoilers in tags", but in all the years I have been reccing fics, I have NEVER ONCE been told that people don't like how meticulous I tag everything I rec. A LOT of people will use those tags to filter OUT stuff that they personally can't read or don't like. Apart from the summary, the Tags are VERY important, AND it can help you come up with a more interesting and short summary that doesn't need to be descriptive. Use the suggested tags that Ao3 offers when you start typing – these are tags, I believe, that have been used frequently on the site.

The Summary – I KNOW it is legit the worst thing to have to come up with, but your story has a higher chance of being read if you stick to writing a concise summary as I've pointed out above. Some people also may choose to use an interesting blurb from their stories as a preview, which some DON'T like, but it's honestly better than nothing. I know for a fact that I have skipped over stories that don't have SOMETHING in the summary box NOR any tags. I know this isn't what you want to hear, Lovely, but put something here, even if it's just "A literal fuck-tonne of porn without plot" (I give authors permission to steal that pun, LOL).

WiP or Not – This is one of those "gamble" things. As I mentioned above, some authors do a week-to-week advanced model for their story chapters, while others "post each chapter when done". The latter tends to wind up with stories in limbo. PERSONALLY, I don't read WiP's for the simple fact that I get confused REALLY easily on plot lines when I do – I like reading one whole story in one go. But PLEASE don't take this as the golden end-all/be-all. This is a personal preference, since I read a LOT of fics and I have very little time these days to do it. Some people love WiPs. A good way to indicate that you have a story plotted out, but is NOT a week-to-week model? Add the Chapter count, rather than leaving it as "?". People are more likely to follow your WiP WITH a chapter count, since it gives the illusion that you have a rough draft written out and you know how long it will be.

So yeah! I hope this helped you out a bit, Nonny. Sorry it's so long, but I thought with how long I've been reading fics and with how picky I am with fics, these tips would be helpful for you. Again, at the end of the day, it's ALWAYS up to personal preferences of the readers. And don't take it personally if you can't "get an audience" right away. Just be yourself, write because you LOVE writing, and you will have a fruitful and enjoyable time publishing your story!

If any experienced authors in the fandom want to add their two cents from a WRITER'S perspective, please do! <3