#this one was really fun to write though!

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Total $hit$how: Punching Bags

in which Benji realizes he's in over his head.

cw: violence, abusive training methods, threats, adult/crude language

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

×~×~×

Wandering the base hadn't been nearly as fun as Benji had hoped.

It was mostly just empty government-style hallways and locked doors. So many locked doors. Made even more frustrating by the fact that the locks all looked easy as shit, and if he tried, Benji could have any of them open in a matter of seconds. Maybe all of them. He wondered how long it would take him to open every door in the facility if he was really trying. Ten minutes? Fifteen? There was always the chance that a locked door would just lead to more locked doors, but that wasn't really fair to count against him.

But… he wasn't going to do that. No matter how bored he got here. Normally he didn't care too much for following rules, you couldn't make a living as a thief if you did, but Sahota's all-but-outright-stated threat made him think better of it.

If he messed up here, he would go to jail.

He'd already been there briefly, while waiting on a trial, and that had been… significantly less than fun. Benji imagined a state prison would be worse, especially if he was in for literal decades. So, fine. He'd be a good boy and do what he was told, even if their mission sounded made up.

There were a few doors that weren't locked. A decent-sized kitchen and adjacent dining hall. A computer lab that doubled as a small library. A huge, open room with cushioned floors that Benji assumed was the training area.

Eventually, Vic found them and showed them to their rooms. They were down a hall, behind yet another locked door, but Vic gave them keys for this one. 

There was a room for each of them, thank God. Benji would lose his mind if he had to room with one of these doofuses. Joy and Jericho seemed alright, but he never trusted a first impression. Kaius was a classic arrogant rich boy, probably turned into an asshole by parents and teachers who constantly praised his intellect. And Harbor seemed more than a little unstable. The kind of guy who'd snap and stab you in your sleep if you looked at him wrong.

Sure, he'd learn to get along with them; he got along with everyone given enough time, but sharing a living space was a different story.

The rooms were small and impersonal. A little bland for Benji’s tastes, and if he weren't fresh out of a jail cell he might've complained more. It was late, and he was tired from all the new information that had been chucked at him throughout the day, so he fell onto the bed before doing too much poking around.

The next morning, at seven sharp, they all filed into the training bay as instructed. Everyone else was wearing a set of dark gray workout attire.

Shit, did he not get the memo? He hadn't bothered to dig through the drawers the night before, and had just changed into the same clothes he'd worn yesterday, minus the fishnet undershirt. Now he was standing there in a crop top, looking ridiculous.

When Harbor stumbled in, ten minutes late and wearing the same rumpled shirt and oversized jacket he'd had on at the briefing, Benji didn't know if he felt better or worse.

On the one hand, at least he wasn't the only one who'd goofed. On the other, he didn't want everyone else to start grouping him with Harbor.

“I see most of you found the training uniforms.���

Benji turned around. Sahota was walking into the room, his face impassive as ever though his tone was full of irritation.

“Right, sorry,” Benji said. “Maybe give us better instruction next time instead of running off? Even just a note could work. Oh, or those little instruction pamphlets that come inside board games, that would've been a huge help—”

“Is this just a game to you, Ruebin?”

Benji gave him an exaggerated wince. “No," he said "I can honestly say that me staying out of prison is a very serious matter. I'm just saying—”

“Then shut up and pay attention.” He sauntered to the center of the group, leaving Benji to throw an exasperated look in Joy’s direction, which she answered with a small grin.

In his experience, the quickest way to bond with someone was by complaining about someone else.

Sahota unzipped his jacket and cast it aside, then turned to face them. He was… actually kind of hot, even if Benji was reluctant to admit it. Warm brown skin and lean muscle. Scars running up and down his arms that served to add an edge to his look, and a tattoo of something—a hawk? Some kind of bird—curling along the side of his neck. His dark hair was cut short at the sides and allowed just enough length to curl at the top, and his eyes were framed by thick lashes. If the guy wasn't such a prick, he might’ve tried to chat him up.

“Today we'll be doing some sparring," Sahota said. "I assume most of you already have some combatives experience, but I'll need a firsthand look to see if your skills are adequate.”

Joy raised her hand. Benji found it adorable how she kept doing that, like a kindergartner excited to learn. 

“So you're going to watch us fight each other?”

“No,” Sahota said. “You're going to fight me.”

Shit. Benji raised his hand. “Ah… exactly how important are these combatives?”

He was more flight than fight. Hell, not even that. As long as his jaw was working, Benji was a talker. He'd avoided countless black eyes and broken bones through simple verbal de-escalation. The few times he had been dragged into a scuffle hadn't gone very well for him.

“It's a matter of life and death.” From anybody else, that would've sounded like a joke, but Sahota was dead serious. “Each potential target will be swarming with guards. If you end up cornered, really cornered, it'll be a fight to survive. Understood?”

Benji swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Shoes off. Vic doesn't like the mats getting scuffed.”

Benji crouched, unlacing his boots with a heavy sigh. This was gonna suck, wasn't it? Maybe he should just volunteer to go first and get this over with—

“I'll go first if that's okay,” Jericho piped up. “Might as well get it over with.”

Oh, son of a… well. Great minds think alike and all that. Benji scooted away from the mat, eyes on his brand new teammate as the man stepped up and came face-to-face with Sahota. Their handler smirked—if you could call it that. It was a half-smirk. Quarter smirk. Barely noticeable at all.

Jericho was nearly a head taller than him and twice as wide, all nervous smiles and beefy arms as Sahota sized him up.

“Alright Davis. Come at me.”

“What, right away?”

Sahota hit him.

Nothing devastating, just a little pop on the jaw, but Benji physically cringed at the blow, and Jericho staggered back in surprise.

“If you're caught in a fight, you can't hesitate,” Sahota said. Jericho gave a sharp nod and swung on him, but the smaller man dodged the blow effortlessly. 

“If you don't have skill, you'll need to make up for it with speed. If you know you're cornered, be the first to strike.”

He sidestepped another blow from Jericho as he spoke, sending a sharp kick into his opponent’s ribs.

“You're strong, Davis, but too slow.”

Jericho lunged at Sahota, making to grab him, but their handler dodged that too.

“And you're holding back.”

“I… I don't want to hurt you,” Jericho said, sounding a little winded.

“Your enemy won't feel the same.”

Sahota dropped to the floor, moving quicker than Benji thought possible as he took Jericho’s legs out from under him with a sweeping kick, then pouncing on the bigger man when he hit the ground, wrestling him into a chokehold before he could react.

Jericho tapped out, and Sahota let him up. The whole thing was over in under two minutes, and their handler wasn't even breathing heavily.

Maybe it was a better strategy to go last, when Sahota was the slightest bit tired out. If he got tired at all. Even then, Benji really didn't like his odds.

“I'll go next,” Joy said, stepping up to the mat as Jericho trudged back to his spot on the floor, one hand on his ribs. Benji threw a sympathetic look his way, or rather, a can you believe this guy look.

“Begin.”

Having apparently learned from Jericho’s match, Joy lunged right away, dropping a knee between Sahota’s legs and thrusting her body forward, driving them both to the ground. The move seemed to have taken the man by surprise, but he didn't stay that way for long, engaging with Joy before she could throw an arm around his neck. The two grappled for a moment, but Sahota came out on top. Benji wasn't overly shocked as he released the defeated Joy.

“Not terrible,” he said. “But against a larger opponent you wouldn't stand a chance.”

“That's what guns are for,” Joy panted.

Kaius went next. Small as he was, he was surprisingly good at kicking, and actually almost landed a blow. Benji felt a little vindicated when he didn't, even more so when he was swiftly put into a chokehold. If Kaius was the first one to match Sahota, Benji had the feeling he'd only get smugger.

With Kaius beaten that marked three fights won, and Sahota didn't look the slightest bit tired.

“Are you ready, Harbor?”

“If it means I get to punch you.” Harbor shuffled over to the mat, hands stuffed into the pockets of his oversized jacket. His multicolored hair, buzzed on one side and long on the other, gave the appearance of a parrot sitting on his shoulder. A feral parrot. Who'd been caught in a particularly bad storm. His height matched Jericho's, but he was scrawny, with a build like the kid from the chocolate factory movie after he'd been stretched by the taffy puller.

“Begin.”

Harbor darted forward, closed fist shooting out and… and actually catching Sahota across the chin.

Their handler seemed just as surprised as Benji was. Of all the people to land a blow, Harbor had got it first?

Sahota recovered quickly, dancing around the next few jabs. Harbor moved like a drunk monkey, slouchy and swaying, but he was fast.

What had he said at the briefing? He had some kind of biotech implant that made him quicker? In that case, completely unfair. Benji hoped he wouldn't have to fight him.

On the other hand, having Harbor on his side in a fight would be a plus. Even after Sahota had landed a few hits of his own, the taller man hadn't slowed down, the half-crazed smile on his face spreading with every blow. 

Which was more than a little bit unsettling. Benji once again found himself glad he didn't have to share a room with the guy.

After what seemed like forever, Sahota managed to get him on the ground, wrapping an arm around his throat and squeezing, the finishing move that had ended every other match.

Only Harbor didn't tap.

His face was contorted into a snarl, blood dribbling down his chin as his hands clawed at the arm around his neck. His upper lip was starting to go purple.

“Sahota…” Jericho said. “I think he's done.”

Their handler didn't move.

“Sahota.”

Harbor's jaw worked soundlessly, his feet scraping at the ground. A sick fear settled in Benji’s stomach. He wasn't… he wasn't about to watch this guy die, was he? Sahota wouldn't go that far, would he?

His mouth fell open, to reason with the other man, to shout for him to stop, but words didn't come. Beside him, Joy jumped to her feet, striding forward. Jericho was already standing, looking like he was about to charge in as well.

“Hey!”

Harbor's arms fell slack at his sides, and Sahota at last let go, letting the other man fall limp onto the mat as he stood.

Joy bent over Harbor's body. “What the fuck was that?”

“He'll be fine,” Sahota muttered. He was more winded than he'd been after his fight with Kaius, but his expression remained impassive. Not angry, or regretful, just… just a whole lot of nothingness. Like he didn't care at all. He was just doing his job, and he had no room for showing mercy at it.

And Benji was up next.

“Are you supposed to be training us or hurting us?” Benji said, finding words at last. “Is this really what Vic wants from you?”

“Who do you think I learned it from?”

Behind him, Harbor's eyes fluttered open with a groan. Joy offered him a hand, but he swatted it aside, staggering to his feet with difficulty. Sahota watched him limp away.

“You're quick, Harbor, but you're a sloppy fighter,” he said. “However, you're also the only one who didn't tap. Good work.”

“Good?” Joy scowled. “You're a shitty trainer if you think that's a good thing."

Sahota ignored her. “Get on the mat, Ruebin. You're up.”

Oh, fuck me.

Benji chewed the inside of his cheek as he pushed himself to his feet. Everyone here was a better brawler than him, and everyone here was already sporting bruises from their go with Sahota. No way would he escape unscathed.

“Go easy on me,” he said, trying to make it sound like a joke. “I don't even know how to throw a punch.”

“Begin.”

He knew he should follow the handler's suggestion and strike first, but Benji couldn't bring himself to move closer to his opponent. Sahota took a step forward, and he took a step back, hands half-up as if he'd actually be fast enough to protect his face.

“Maybe we should just—”

Sahota swung on him, and Benji jumped back with a yelp, barely evading the blow. Shit!

“Dodging won't always save you. What will you do when the door is barricaded? When you're trapped?”

That was where words came in. “Can't I just offer to go down on him?” he snipped.

Sahota answered with a jab to the jaw that sent Benji’s head snapping to the side, and he staggered backwards, losing his balance and landing hard on his ass. He scrambled to his feet as Sahota stalked towards him, holding his hands up in awkward fists, cheek throbbing.

His opponent spun on his heel, sending a kick directly into Benji’s side, which he accepted with a cry and a stumble, arms instinctively rising to protect his head, body panicking and not moving in the right direction quick enough.

“If all you're going to do is cower, you're never going to win.”

Benji grit his teeth, getting his hands back up. He flung a blind punch at Sahota, and was unsurprised when it didn't make contact. The other man took advantage of the opening, planting a heavy kick in Benji's stomach.

He crumpled, retching as the boot sent a spike of pain and nausea through his torso, up his spine. Sahota was towering over him, moving to pin him down—

“Wait!” Benji threw up a hand to shield himself. “Wait, wait, I surrender. Okay? You win.”

Sahota stopped. “You surrender?” he echoed, his voice low. An edge had entered his tone, and Benji didn't like it one bit.

“Your mission is to destroy top-secret equipment owned by a company with enough money to own you a thousand times over. Do you know what happens if you surrender?”

Benji searched for something witty, something he could throw out to defuse the situation, and came up empty handed. “N-no, I—”

He cried out as Sahota seized a fistful of his hair and hauled him to his feet, scalp set on fire by the sudden force, only half-aware of the shouts of alarm from the others.

“If you surrender, they'll want information. Who sent you. Why. They'll do anything to get it. And when you give it up, when you sell us out, Vic and I will do worse. Understood?”

Benji squeezed his eyes shut, nodding as much as the hand in his hair would allow.

“Good. Now stand up and fight—”

“I think that's enough.” Jericho was behind Benji. He hadn't heard him walking up. “Sahota, let him go.”

When he dared to open his eyes, their handler was glaring up at Jericho. But the grip in his hair loosened, and the big guy caught Benji as he fell backwards.

Sahota turned his back on them, silent for a moment. Benji imagined he was contemplating lunging for Jericho, then coming back to beat him up when the bigger man was unconscious. 

“That's enough sparring for one day,” Sahota said at last. “Take the next few hours to train as you see fit. Vic will be around to brief you on individual skill use later.”

Benji clung to Jericho as they left the mat behind. His ribs and stomach felt bruised, and his hands were trembling. Fuck, Sahota was good at making threats that shook him to his core.

“You okay?” Jericho asked, and Benji could only nod. Had anyone else caught what Sahota had growled at him? Did they know how fucked they were if they failed? It was probably better for the overall mood if he didn't tell them. Sure would do wonders for his if he could unhear it.

Sahota started to leave the room, but stopped just short of the door.

“I'm sure you all think I'm a monster,” he said, not turning around. “But when all this is over, when you survive it, you'll thank me.”

Benji watched him go with a barely-suppressed shudder. After today, prison wasn't sounding too bad after all.

[lightnersdream]

i've been thinking about exactly why people portraying one of the other crew members successfully killing Jimmy as a "for what you did to Anya" kind of thing rubs me the wrong way a bit and it's because like..... this is just another form of taking agency away from Anya, in a way. it's kind of framing her as some meek, shivery woman-thing who's entirely at the mercy of the men around her, either to hurt her or save her.

(i understand these are mostly for wish fulfillment on the audience's behalf because everyone would like to see Jimmy pay for his crimes. whether or not this is the intention of the person writing it isn't really relevant, characterization happens with or without intent. i feel like it misses the point by portraying it as an 'ideal ending'.)

because... Anya is a capable person. she takes things into her own hands when she can. it was partially(?) her idea to get into the cargo,

(before he interrupts her.. remember when she interrupted Curly in the dead pixel segment?)

it was her idea to get the code scanner from the cockpit,

it was her idea to get the medication from behind the foam.

(the chance to do these things herself is not given to her.)

she'd been keeping Curly alive for months in a critical state somehow, her psych evaluations at the start are only so useless because Jimmy refuses to take it/her seriously and Curly is obviously biased when he puts it into his own hands. he's known him a long time, like he said. "I'll just put good for that one."

there's not a lot of material to work with because of how the game is framed, but it's there. we are working with two very biased perspectives and neither one lends Anya what she deserves

there's significant changes in how she speaks post- and pre- crash, and depending on who she happens to be talking to. i recommend re-reading her dialogue, because the difference is drastic

she acts the way she does around Jimmy because he has tangibly done horrible things to her, is actively hostile, and physically could not escape him by any means. she can't take away Curly's agency herself, in my eyes. you have to remember that Especially in the post-crash segments of the game, it's entirely from Jimmy's POV, and he obviously does not (and has never) thought very highly of her or treated her with a shred of respect

i've seen a general idea that she can't bear to hurt other people for any reason, but that doesn't really track to me. this is the real point of the post by the way

it seems based on the parts where she says she struggles to give Curly medication. "It just hurts him so much, I can't stand the noise." "It makes me nauseous."

it's not really the same thing as, say, hurting someone in self defense

this sounds like she did want the gun itself. this never felt worded like someone who would refuse to, at very least, threaten Jimmy with a gun, with violence. if she had been given the agency to make that decision on her own. she wasn't though

she still tries to reclaim some of it even as she's denied it

by the end she's still trying to keep that gun out of his hands

i think some people overly soften her, for similar reasons the game itself is trying to comment on. she's not a tender victim who couldn't cause pain to another out of the softness of her soul, she's a person who's had every last bit of agency ripped from her repeatedly until she couldn't take it anymore. that's the point. that's why framing her that way, "needing" someone to save her, is odd to me

she didn't need Curly to save her, she needed him to take responsibility

she didn't want to escalate things, but she's not an idiot. self defense was absolutely on her mind

but who knows im just saying shit *smiles serenely*

[huginsmemory]

Like I get why human-Bill post canon redemption fics for Billford are common because it's fun to put Bill in that situation where he doesn't know whats going on and its a way to 'break' Bill into not being a huge asshole through learning empathy BUT I feel like also a big part of that is also people being COWARDS and not leaning into the monsterfuckery of Ford falling in love and getting it on freaky style with a triangle LIKE HE ALREADY DID.

[crows-of-buckets]

Anders doodle that I could have put more effort into but I got lazy :P

Anyways this specifically is meant to take place after he patches up Hawke after the Arishok fight. I was writing it last night and went "hm I should draw that"

Bonus, shitty sketch I did at 2am when I had this idea and the writing segment that inspired it. It's so funny I talk about my writing a lot but I never share it cause it scares me lmao

[lexosaurus]

Gym 101

In which Valerie forces Danny to go workout with her

[ao3]

Characters: Danny & Valerie Warnings: None Wc: 2,230

****

"You're not engaging your core, Danny. What do I keep telling you?" Valerie sighed and put down her weight. "You're going to fuck up your knees if you don't slow down and do this right."

"And I keep telling you I don't even know what that means!" Danny snapped, not for the first time this week and probably not the last.

When he told Valerie that he, Danny Fenton, was also Danny Phantom, Danny had been expecting Valerie to be so mad at him that she never wanted to speak to him again.

And, well, she had been that mad at him. Very mad, in fact. So pissed, that for a minute, Danny was worried she was going to blast him off her roof.

He hadn't stuck around long after that.

And while he was beginning to make himself comfortable in the campground called, "Valerie's Cold Shoulder," he barely had two days to settle in before she had seemingly decided that enough was enough. 

Just before homeroom began, she strode to him in the hall, pulled him to the side—literally, she yanked him around the corner by his shirt sleeve—and demanded they start hitting the gym together.

"Because," Valerie had explained at his whining, and not patiently either, "I get that you have ghost powers, but your human half is such a twig. Seriously, Danny, do you know how much you're holding yourself back right now? If you actually tried strength training, I bet you'd level up pretty hardcore in ghost fights. Who knows? You might be able to train your reflexes to dodge one of Skulker's blasts from time to time."

And well, that bruise to both Danny's ghostly ego and his human teenage boy ego had been all he needed to agree to start working out with none other than his former rival turned ally, Valerie Gray.

"Stand up straight," Valerie ordered, pulling him back to his present world of pain.

He had no idea how Jazz and his mom liked doing this stuff. At the current moment, he was pretty sure the person who invented the concept of lifting weights was a giant masochist because there was simply no way in hell anyone throughout history would have ever said, "You know what sounds like the most fun thing ever? Let's take heavy objects, lift them, do a little movement, and then put them back down in the same spot we lifted them from!"

But apparently, he was the weirdo for not understanding why there was a dedicated fanbase of people who put a metal bar on their back, put some weights on the sides of the bar, squatted into a crouch, and then stood back up.

And repeated the process.

Again.

And again.

And again. Ten times, resting, and then ten more times.

Danny weakly stood, gripping the bar behind his shoulders like it was the only thing tethering his will to live to this plane of existence, and glared at Valerie through sweaty bangs. "Okay, standing. What next?"

"We godda fix your core."

"Be my guest," Danny said. He wasn't even sure if Valerie could fix something he'd never had to begin with, but if she truly wanted to, then...whatever. He'd lost by coming here, anyway.

Valerie scrutinized him as if he was some sort of science project that wasn't quite working out how she'd hoped. Which, thinking about it for a moment, he figured that was probably exactly what he was to Valerie. 

Then, without warning, she put her hand on his stomach.

Now, Phantom was largely considered a very suave and cool hero. Well, maybe Sam and Tucker would disagree, and sure there was a whole TikTok tag dedicated to videos of him falling into random objects, but still. There were enough random people around who would agree that Phantom was at least somewhat socially sufficient.

But Fenton on the other hand was very much not. He was an awkward, goofy teen. He wasn't popular, and he didn't exactly have a lot of girls fawning over him at every turn.

Which was why Valerie, his former girlfriend who maybe he still had some deeply buried feelings for, touching him so casually was setting off all sorts of alarm bells in his brain.

"...got it?" Valerie was saying.

Certainly, she had said something.

Something that Danny was supposed to be listening to.

Oh, shit. 

"Uh..." Danny tried to re-circuit his brain.

"Here, follow my lead. Okay? Breathe," she said. "Good. Now, tighten your abs."

Danny tried his best to follow.

"No, see, you're sucking in. Tightening your abs doesn't mean sucking in. It's like, okay, think of it this way. Try hardening your abs into a brick wall. Like, squeeze them together. Now—yeah, like that. Now, can you try adding your side and lower back into that brick wall too?"

"Try adding what?"

The corners of Valerie's lip twitched up. "The sides of your stomach? You have abs there too. And there are muscles in your lower back. That's all part of your core too. Remember what I said about your core's job to keep your body stable? Those muscles are all important for that."

"Valerie, I think you're really overestimating how in shape I am. I didn't even know there was more than one ab muscle, much less that there were abs on the sides of my body."

"Well, you have them, ghost boy."

"Doesn't help much if I can't feel them."

Valerie rolled her eyes. "Well, just try your best."

"Yes, Ma'am." Danny did his best to follow her lead while also struggling to ignore the fact that her hand was still on his stomach. 

He was so glad Tucker wasn't here to see his face. He could only hope that Valerie had come to the conclusion that the redness he could feel burning from his cheeks was proof that he was way more out of shape than she thought he was. That was still pretty embarrassing, and likely not even all wrong, but he would take it over the truth.

"Okay, now reset your shoulders. Stop hunching so much," she said.

"But the bar feels weird," Danny defended.

"Yeah, yeah, you'll get used to it. Stop looking down so much. You want your spine to be straight."

"I know." 

Half of what Valerie had been telling him for the past week was to straighten his spine. He couldn't help it if his back was a visual representation of his many years of late-night gaming. 

"Okay, now squat down." She leaned forward, and her dark eyes were just inches from his own. "No—look at me the whole time. Don't drop your eyes to your feet."

Oh, his face was burning burning now.

He slowly lowered his body, focusing on staying balanced as best as he could. Having a bar on his back was still a new sensation, and Valerie was refusing to let him load any weight onto it. Apparently, everyone started from an empty bar until they got the hang of the motion. Danny wasn't sure if that was something Valerie was just saying to be nice to him, or if that was actually true. 

He did try asking, and she just got offended that he would dare think so low of her that she would lie about something gym-related, and then she told him to stop screwing around and focus on the exercise.

So, it was fifty-fifty at this point.

"Keep going down," Valerie instructed, stepping back and thankfully removing her hand from him in the process.

Seriously, that had been the longest several seconds of his entire life and half-life combined.

"But I thought you weren't supposed to go past ninety degrees or something?" Danny asked from his invisible chair-like position in his squat.

"No, that's a lie. I think they just tell that to people who have butt-wink or bad mobility or something."

"The hell is butt-wink? See, now I just think you're making stuff up."

"I'm not! It's actually something you're doing right now." Valerie pointed at him in the mirror. "See how your pelvis is tucking in and curving your lower back? That's butt-wink." She moved to stand next to him and lowered down in a squat. "See my lower back? It's straight. This is how you want to be."

Danny wasn't aware that working out would just give him more things to be self-conscious about. He tried to straighten his lower back, but it was almost impossible to do so without feeling like he was going to fall on his ass. "Okay, then how do I fix that?"

"Well, I'm not exactly a doctor, so I'm sure it could be caused by a few different things. But the most common one I've heard is that butt wink happens when your core is shit. But it could also just as likely be an ankle and hip flexibility issue too."

Danny rolled his eyes. "As we've established, my core is shit. And I'm not flexible at all. "

"Yeah, I know," Valerie lamented. "I can't believe you've been fighting as Phantom for all these years and you haven't gone to the gym even once. Isn't Sam really into working out or something? Why didn't you ask to be her gym buddy?"

"Because I value my life." Danny paused. "My half-life, whatever. Tucker worked out with her once to prepare for the President's fitness test they did freshmen year, and I didn't stop hearing about it for months. She's ruthless."

"You know what, I believe that."

"Yup," Danny grunted, lowering to do another squat.

Two down, about five million more to go.

People actually enjoyed lifting weights? They came to the gym willingly? As in, of their own volition?

They seriously sweated and lifted heavy objects in a room surrounded by a bunch of equally sweaty, smelly strangers who were lifting other objects? 

And they thought it was fun?

That seemed absurd.

Valerie scrunched her nose at him.

"What?" Danny asked, his voice teetering past the line between speaking normally and whining, but he was far too exhausted to care. "Why are you looking at me like that? What am I doing wrong now?"

"No, it's just—" Valerie tilted her head. "Try widening your stance more. And maybe try pointing your toes out a little bit. That should help with your form. I mean, ideally, your ankle mobility would be better, but given it's pretty shit right now, this might be the best fix."

"God, I'm hopeless. Just give me the word and I'll leave."

"Oh, stop. You're not hopeless. You just need to stretch more. And train more."

Danny shuffled his feet and bent down into another squat. Having a wider stand did make the squat feel easier, but he wasn't about to admit that to her. "No, I am definitely hopeless. It'll be a blow to my ego, but I think I can emotionally recover if I leave the gym right now."

Valerie punched his arm, though it had no real power to it. She'd long since stopped legitimately trying to hurt him. 

Nevertheless, he would have sooner let Skulker capture him than pass up an opportunity to verbally torment Valerie. "Wow, I can't believe my ally is trying to beat me up and murder me in public. Especially while I'm trying to better myself in the gym."

"Oh, shut up." Although she tried to look angry, Danny could see the corners of her lips quirk into a smile. "Alright, your form is looking a lot better. It's still not perfect, but it's way better than when we started."

"Thank god."

"Maybe in a few weeks we can start adding plates."

A few weeks?

He must have let his internal expression show, because she once again snapped with, "It's normal for people to only squat the bar when they first start. It's way more important to get proper form than to lift heavy. You see that guy over there?"

She nodded across the room at a man doing chest presses. He was using weights that Danny could only dream of, pumping them up and down with a confidence that Danny was sure rivaled even Dash.

So the man looked alright to Danny, but apparently, that was the wrong conclusion to come to, if Valerie's critical eye was any judge.

"See how his elbows are basically straight out from his body? And see how he's not extending his arms all the way when he presses? He's rushing through the exercise. It's bad form, and while it may feel cool to lift heavy, bulky weights, if you can't even do the exercise properly, you just end up looking like a fool." She turned back to him. "Remember, you're in a gym. That means you're surrounded by people who have been doing this shit for years. Trust me when I say you're not going to impress anyone by rushing through the exercises to try to look cool."

"Aye-aye, captain."

It wasn't like he was going to impress anyone with the way he was wobbling while attempting to squat the naked bar, anyway.

"Alright, that's enough of a rest, I think. This time, let's actually do eight reps."

"Literal torture."

"Keep the whining up, and I might just call my blaster out."

Danny could see it in her eyes that she wasn't joking.

And so, he began.

****

[read more of my fics here]

[beatcroc]

there's no way the bathroom at peppino's pizza is actually that big but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . hey ummm anyway.... i care them...... anyway there's a lil ramble on my take on fake pep's like psyche or whatever in tags on the og post if ur into that kinda thing :y

hey! it's a series! fake peppino world tour: [noise] [noisette] [peppino]<- u are here [gustavo] [gerome] [noisette again]

[shepscapades]

"You've seen his eyes through the visor and the bottom half of his face" Sheeeeeppp! My brain didn't come with a darn graphics card (I have aphantasia) so I won't know what the pretty man looks like until the day you face reveal him help. The bit is hilarious though and I respect that cup of tea even as I resnt it lmao

NAUUU no it’s okay I get you, I don’t have aphantasia but I definitely wouldn’t be able to put a solid image of his face together if I were yall either LMAO dw jokes aside you will see his face one day

[butwhatifidothis]

I guess the ultimate thing that kills CF for me - or at least nudges it away from me saying I definitively like it - is just how much Edelgard is clearly written with the player in mind before she's written with her character in mind.

Because on all of the other routes, there's a power to Edelgard's presence. Even on BE, there's a sense that for as lonely as Edelgard might be, she still ultimately will do whatever it takes for her to get what she wants. Be that be killing her citizens (or otherwise letting them be killed), endangering her friends, assisting in kidnapping people, allowing Byleth to support her only when they have the Sword of the Creator, covering for TWS - no bar is too low for her to limbo under if doing so means she's even a step closer to her goals.

She's manipulative! She's deceitful! She doesn't care for the lives of her people! Even her friends are forfeit if they try to stand in her way! And this happens no matter how close you, the player, get to her, in the case of BE - C+ ain't stoppin' Remire, and going to the coronation ain't stopping the Holy Tomb.

And in the war phase, she is dominating the field. She has the Kingdom completely on the ropes, down to a few houses standing against Imperial rule, and the Alliance is stuck in neutrality - she may not be able to do much to it, but neither can they do anything to her (to say nothing of the Alliance houses who stand with her). She's far from the underdog in this race, and she shows off how threatening she can be.

CF? Her route?

She scweams at scawy rats. She gets embawwassed when you find her dwawings. She's just so wonewy, and she's just so gwad that you chose her. She somehow fails to capture Rhea, or frame Dimitri for regicide, and so now has to deal with that on the Kingdom's side of the war. But that doesn't stop Elly Welly-kins fwom twying to find her pwecious teacher, because you're just so important to her. She cwies and hugs you when you meet her in the Goddess Tower!! Because she missed you so much!!

It's like... Dimitri and Claude certainly show different sides of themselves on their respective routes. It's the whole point! You grow closer to them and thus see how they treat those close to them, as opposed to being the Kinda Neat Teacher they see run along every now and then. But, like... Claude doesn't become a blushing maiden whenever Byleth speaks with him on VW. Dimitri doesn't scream at scary rats and get called cute for it on AM. They don't get Basic Bitch Gap Moe Traits slapped onto them that are only ever shown to the player and only on their routes. Unlike Edelgard.

Dimitri's endearing trait is that he's this big huge dude who can bench-press forests and arm-wrestle god who still wants to learn to sew and who teaches kids to protect themselves and who buys candies for his friends. Claude's endearing trait is that he's this mastermind planner who has contingency and lie and obfuscation as three separate legal government names who still wants everyone to be safe and happy and hold hands and be friends.

Edelgard is strong, confident, and willing to do some of the shittiest things known to man for her goals. Her endearing trait is that her screams are cute. She's shy about her drawings of the player character. She blushes over the player potentially joking about having sex with her per her JPN version of her C support; you know, the one about how Byleth walks in on Edelgard muttering in her sleep from a nightmare about her tortured family? Perfect time to joke about fucking her! Dimitri and Claude's endearments are, well, endearing; Edelgard's are all straight up embarrassing for her.

Hell, even the smaller stuff is affected! Claude's passion for poisons and mushrooms are things he has no qualms about having others know about, despite how weird they are. Dimitri laughing at shitty jokes brings him no personal discomfort or embarrassment, despite just how loudly he laughs at them. They have traits to them that can easily be uwu worthy, and they don't care! Of the lords, only Edelgard does! Because, it feels like, the only way for a strong, resolute female character to come off as approachable is if she's knocked down a few pegs for specifically and only you, the player.

And that sucks ass! I'm sorry, but when I'm playing Edelgard's route I don't want to deal with her hiding herself away in her room for a month IN THE MIDDLE OF HER FUCKING WAR because she's just so embawwassed! It is so fucking insensitive that Edelgard is literally the only lord of the three who can have her trauma openly belittled at any point in the story by Byleth, all to have some cheap cutesy uwu moment about her fear of rats (calling her screaming in fear cute and INSISTING that it's really cute which is just. Fucking ew man)! Why can we fucking mock Edelgard's manner of speech during the MASSACRE OF REMIRE?

This shit doesn't happen to Claude or Dimitri! And saying "oh just don't pick those options then" is bullshit because no equivalent options exist for the male lords! It's piss-boilingly annoying that the second you choose to see things from the strong confident villainous ambitious female lord's perspective you can reduce her down to this bumbling moeblob just for you (sometimes unavoidably!) like!! Dude!

[feroluce]

For reasons to be expanded upon at a later date (because I love the little bits about Boothill and possible paranoia/betrayal canon gives us so very dearly HNGH) I think Boothill like... He won't let himself fall into disrepair or anything of course, but he reeeeeeeeeeally does not like letting other people poke around at his body. It's a necessary evil to him. He does whatever maintenance and repairs he can himself. He started out with a massive knowledge deficit, simply because he didn't really have any exposure to that kind of technology until he left Aeragan-Epharshal, but he's taught himself a lot since then, he worked really hard at it!

Anyway, the point being, Boothill generally isn't super trusting of people.

But I think he would come to make an exception for Himeko, since he trusts Dan Heng a lot, and Himeko is one of Dan Heng's once-in-a-lifetime dearly beloved companions.

Himeko is so unflappable, I don't think she would even bat an eye about anything he throws at her, either. Like she enters the Parlor Car one morning (she's always the first one up) and Boothill is already there, waiting for her.

"Mornin', Madam Navigator."

"Good morning, Mr. Boothill."

And despite the fact that he blatantly broke into the Express (Pom-Pom is NOT happy about this JDKSAJDSKL), Boothill tips his hat, greets her politely, and is nothing but respectful when he says he has a favor to ask of her. Except it won't stay a favor long, of course- he has every intention of paying it back.

Himeko never agrees to things blindly, but she does bring up that all the knowledge Boothill contributed during the Charmony Festival was essential to preventing the universe from being pulled into Ena's Dream. And they were able to hold onto the Jade Abacus because Boothill used Tiernan's burial relic to summon the Galaxy Rangers instead. The Astral Express owes him a debt of gratitude, and besides, he's a friend of Dan Heng's. Of course she'll try to help him.

Boothill fidgets a bit, quickly brushes off the thanks, and tells Himeko he's having a problem with error codes. He keeps getting the same one, seemingly at random times, but the darn thing has no obvious cause. Dan Heng mentioned Himeko had been the one to rebuild the Astral Express. He knows it ain't the same, but it's not like he's askin' for any major repairs or nothin'. He was wonderin' if she could just take a look, maybe offer him some insight, since she seems to be somethin' of a mechanical wonder.

So Himeko walks him back to a another car, where she goes to tinker with machines without them crowding her bedroom. It's all neatly laid out and organized, and it only takes a second for Himeko to locate some specific device with a long cord. Instead of plugging it in herself, she holds the end of it out to him, like an offer rather than a demand, and Boothill visibly relaxes a bit. He still eyes it just a little warily for a second, but he accepts and plugs it into the port on his side.

Himeko pulls up the list of all recent errors, and they really are all the same. Boothill has had multiple temperature alarms over the past couple of weeks since the Charmony Festival, and they know it's not the environment, because Penacony is mostly dreamscape and kept mild year-round. The long-forgotten natural deserts are too far away.

Boothill is staring from the corner of his one good eye, so Himeko turns the hologram to let him see what she's doing easier. They don't appear to be false alarms. His internal temperature spikes and then slowly lowers again, high enough that if it lasted it would eventually cause damage.

One option is for her to start rooting through personal data, figuring out what he was doing at the time of each code, and tracing cause and correlation.

Instead, Himeko reads out the timestamps, and asks Boothill if he minds sharing what was happening around him when it occured.

Two weeks ago: He and Dan Heng went to explore Dreamflux Reef and found a bar- nice place, good atmosphere. Woman runnin’ it was a doll. Boothill left fer not even two minutes to get them drinks (Dan Heng knows like nothin’ about liquor, Madam Navigator, can you believe this guy) and when he came back, someone had already stolen his seat and was hittin’ on Dan Heng! Dan Heng didn't even care, just shooed ‘em off. Boothill laughed and said not to let him get in his way if he wanted to meet someone. Dan Heng looked at him like he'd grown a second head. Why would he want to leave with someone else, when he came here to be with Boothill?

Twelve days ago: While laying low- er, just rustlin’ up some grub- in the Moment of Blue, Boothill passed Dan Heng with March and Caelus playin’ on the beach, buildin’ sandcastles and the like. When he passed by again almost two hours later, they were still out there, with Dan Heng pullin’ March through the water on her inner tube and Caelus hangin’ off the back of it. He swam so fast! You'd think he was part water snake or somethin’. He looked happier ‘n a cat in a sunbeam… He has a nice smile, doesn't he?

Eleven days ago: Boothill was killin’ time in Dreamflux Reef when he turned the corner down a shady alley and saw Dan Heng, surrounded by three men demandin’ “protection money.” None of ‘em stood a chance, they were all on the ground before Boothill even blinked! So cool! Boothill wants to see that spear of his closeup- Anyway, Dan Heng stepped on one of ‘em on his way out, hahaha! Boothill stepped on the same guy a second time as he hurried to catch up.

Eight days ago: Here on the Express, actually. Boothill had mentioned bein’ curious about the archives, and Dan Heng personally invited him.

(“I remember that day, I saw you in the hall.” “Was there any problem with the heating that day?” “No, none. I don't think the temperature has anything to do with these error codes. I have a different theory, keep going.” “If ya say so.”)

Boothill was fascinated by an entry on aeons, and from a single question he asked about Lan, the two of ‘em ended up talkin’ fer hours. About aeons and Paths and Emanators, Acheron and Self-Annihilators, the Sea of Nihility, Tiernan, the Nameless and the Galaxy Rangers, their burial relics and their customs. Dan Heng finally just started writin’ and editin’ the entries in real time, with Boothill pointin’ things out and tellin’ him what to add in. They were at it so late that Boothill ended up sleepin' on a couch in one of the cars.

He'd figured there had to be something to make Dan Heng chatty- he'd caught just a glimpse of it that first night they met, sittin’ at the bar in the Reverie together. He'll have to ask about the archives more often, if it gets him all revved up like that.

One week ago: After that night of energetic discussion, Dan Heng was apparently hyped up, because after he'd downed some of Himeko's coffee (“You had some too, right? What did you think of it?” “It was great, even better'n chewin’ bullets!” "Thank you! That was my newest brew, I can't wait for everyone else to try it.") he actually asked Boothill to go hunting with him. Boothill asked who their target was, and was surprised when Dan Heng pulled out photos that looked like they were from March's camera, of all things, instead of a bounty or wanted poster.

And as he sat there, studying these pictures, Dan Heng explained that he wanted to hunt down these specific memory zone memes to record them into the archives. Planets with so much memoria are a rarity, especially with the Stellaron's activity thrown into the mix, which has surely affected the local “wildlife.” He might not get another opportunity like this for a long time. And Boothill had talked last night about his extensive expertise in tracking and hunting, so he should have plenty to offer here, Dan Heng would like to learn from his experience and see how he does things!

And oh, Madam Navigator, by the time Dan Heng was done speakin', his eyes were practically sparklin'! Just lit up like the sun! Boothill could scarcely believe it! The two of them couldn't even wait another day, they set out that very morning. It had been a long, long while since Boothill had tracked someone- er, somethin’- without the intent to capture or kill. It was…actually really nice. Nostalgic, but in a good way. It might even have been his favorite day on Penacony…so…far…

Boothill trails off as a couple of realizations crash into him. All the temperature alarms he's spoken about thus far- they've all happened in the company of Dan Heng. And now that he's thinking about it, he's pretty sure even the ones he hasn't yet talked about were with him, too. Dan Heng has been responsible for all of his error codes, every. single. one.

The screen in front of Himeko suddenly refreshes to the top of the list, displaying a new notification for the current time. Alert! Core temperature above normal range.

Himeko's knowing smile is sly as a snake.

Wwwwwelp, would ya look at the time, Boothill has some errands to meet, people to run, y’know how it is, he should really get goin'-

“Oh, Mr. Boothill? About that favor.” And Boothill jolts to a stop in the doorway because fudge, he can't just leave without hearing her out. He'd given his word. He has no problem running out on someone he thinks deserves it, but Himeko really had been kind to him to try and help him out. Her voice is just as knowing as her smile, Boothill can't turn around to look at her, or else he knows he won't be able to disguise the sound of his cooling fans kicking on.

“Don't make Dan Heng wait too long, ok~?”

“Y-Yes, ma'am.”

[hoshiina]

pairing: akatsuki hyoga x gn!reader (no prns)

request: i wanted to request something of hyoga with a s/o that's reserved just like him, and that even though they were always together, everyone assumed that they were just close friends and nothing more. however it turns out they're married! and everyone is surprised by this; especially moz and homura who thought they knew hyoga to an extent at least lol

warnings: hyoga is very sweet, that's truly about it he's just insanely sweet.

wc: 1100

The two of you were deeply in love. You knew he loved you and he knew you loved him back— and that was enough for both of you. After all these years, there was of course still lots to talk about, but hardly a need to talk about anything. As long as you were together, you couldn’t ask for any more. You had originally met each other at the same dojo, so often people found you training together and naturally as you did things together, you were close to similar people.

The two of you did share a living space and sleep together so while originally you assumed people would catch on that you were a couple rather quickly, considering the lack of affection you display in public the two of you soon realized they probably thought you were just roommates. However, there wasn’t a true need to bring it up all of a sudden, not to mention it would be slightly awkward after all this time— so you figured you’d just wait until someone asked.

Now, behind closed doors he would kiss you first thing in the morning and you would tell him you loved him before you slept each night and there was no doubt that the two of you were terribly in love. And that was perfectly fine.

Yet, if there was one thing that saddened you from time to time, it would be the missing ring on your left hand. 

Hyoga wasn’t one to wear his ring often, all the way back from 3700 years ago, but you were. You had it on all the time— to the point where you could hardly get it off your finger. Although you loved that it showed you were his and he was yours, you truly just loved the way it made you feel safe. It was nothing extravagant, and you asked for it that way. You wanted something that you could keep on while training, that wouldn’t get in the way, so it was just a band with a small diamond engraved in it. To many it truly wasn’t much, but to you, it meant absolutely the world. To you, that little ring made you feel like Hyoga was with you wherever you went and in danger, he would come flying. You absolutely trusted he still would, but your hand did feel empty without the ring.

It was as if he read your mind. It was early in the morning when the two of you were taking a break while training alone. He carefully took off his gloves and took your left hand and the gentle touch made your heart flutter.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

He didn’t reply, but he took out a ring and slipped it right onto your ring finger. It was just a band, no diamond, no gem. Just a band that was exactly the size of your left-hand ring finger.

“Sorry it’s nothing more,” Hyoga said softly, then laughed a little. The look on his face was soft and gentle, one that he would only show you. “Perhaps this is worse than it was without.”

You were in love with him, you had always been and yet you had fallen all over again. He was the one for you and he will always be.

“No, I absolutely adore it!” you said, immediately pulling your hand back just in case he took it away. He chuckled again and you slowly brought your hand back out to look at it on your hand. You loved it so much you couldn’t have the words to express it. The largest diamond in the world couldn’t possibly compare to this simple hoop of metal on your ring finger. “How… did you?”

“I asked Senkuu and Kaseki helped make it,” he said. “It was a slight hassle trying to get your ring size again.”

“When did you get it? While I was asleep?” you asked, absolutely impressed.

“Yes,” he said. “I was afraid to wake you up a couple of times. Also it didn’t help that you sleep on your side a lot.”

“Okay, but aren’t you going to tell?” Senkuu suddenly said.

“Tell what?” you asked, ignoring the fact that you didn’t know he was listening in.

“No.” Hyoga said firmly, purely out of embarrassment.

“He made the ring himself,” Senkuu said. “Late at night, after you were asleep, for multiple nights he was working on it.”

Your head spun back to look at him. “No way,” you said.

In all of your years of being married, you had not seen him look so flustered ever.

“He got it perfect in a few tries though. Considering the tools we have to work with that itself was an insane feat,” Senkuu said, and started walking away. “Okay, sorry to bother, I’ll leave you be.”

“I love you so much,” you said to Hyoga, looking directly into his eyes.

“It’s just a piece of metal really, so I thought it’d make me feel a little more part of it if I made it,” he said, avoiding eye contact.

“Why weren’t you going to tell me?” you asked.

“It’s embarrassing,” he said. “Also, it was just for my self-satisfaction… it doesn’t change the fact that it’s just a band.”

You didn’t even bother to reply because you knew that he knew you didn’t think that for a second. You knew that he knew that made you love the ring a million times more now. Perhaps that was why— perhaps he felt bad if that made you feel like you had to keep it on. How terribly silly— he could have found it on the ground some random day and you would still have it on for the rest of your life if he had given it to you.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a kiss. “I’ll protect it with my life.”

“Please do not,” he said, returning the kiss. “It’s supposed to protect you.”

BONUS

From that moment on, you realized you did want people to know you were married to him after all. You were so insanely proud to have him as your husband, not to mention you didn’t need anyone else falling for him either. He was in love with you, he would spend nights making a ring for you— not anyone else.

So later that day when you were having a meal with Homura and Moz, you made sure to flaunt your brand new ring, surprising them both.

Hyoga stayed silent, but it was obvious he was your partner.

Today, it was absolutely obvious that the two of you were in love.

[auriidae]

goofy hermit doodles!! because uhh why not!!

[averlym]

fairest of the fair

[57sfinest]

kim is such a funny little guy like he emphasizes how little the rcm salary is when you ask about it (5500 reál annually- 460/mo) but here he is with his nice electronic sports watch and his little instant camera and his fancy revolutionary cosplay for plainclothes and he's living in the GRIH which can't be cheap and he's got his fancy little mnemotechnique notebooks which are like the moleskine of elysium i guess and his fancy little ballpoints that he does NOT want to share with you which i bet is because they cost him like a week of salary. and this is the rcm he's not getting stipends for supplies or watches or housing or probably even the gas for the kineema. poor as fuck but he is going to buy himself his little treats god damn it. if he lived in our world you know he'd be out getting himself a $9 vanilla soy milk half caf dirty chai iced latte every morning on the way to the station and eating instant noodles every night to claw out room in the budget for it

[gingermintpepper]

I continue to be in the foulest of moods so here are some Zeus + Apollo headcanons because they make me happy :)

(Important note: this is largely specific to my original work and is not me making inferences from mythical or historical texts)

Zeus and Apollo spar. Like a lot. Like a lot. A big reason why Apollo gets so good at boxing is because he usually sparred with his father as a young god and getting hit with one of Zeus' punches is!! Not advisable. He focused on becoming fleet-footed to combat Zeus' more solid fighting style which was definitely helped by his dancing. Conversely, Hermes would later develop wrestling partially as a response to Apollo's annoying fleet-footedness in combat.

Zeus decides to tie his mind to Apollo's when the strain of Apollo's visions become too intense for him to handle alone. When Apollo first returns from his exile after slaying Python, his visions are so severe that he suffered from 'time-blindness' where he could only percieve the future and was completely unable to see the present. Zeus shoulders some of that strain until Apollo becomes strong enough to handle prophecy on his own - though Zeus is careful not to give Apollo absolute prophecy lest he get overwhelmed again.

Despite their closeness, or maybe because of it, Zeus and Apollo argue quite a lot. Usually it's banal things like administrative work or squabbling over which of them should get the larger portion of a hecatomb, but they do argue about how prophecies should be carried out quite frequently too. There's a general agreement for Zeus not to bring up Apollo's children after how messy Aristaeus' anointing was (and how angry Apollo was at Zeus' disagreement with his decision to make his firstborn son a god) but the odd occasion where it cannot be avoided is usually when they have their most grave spats.

One of Zeus' greatest regrets is his relationship with Ares, partially because Ares grows up seeing him dote and teach Apollo with his full attention. There is... a lot of himself that he sees in Ares. A lot of Kronos too and the part of Zeus that is a warrior before he is a king has done his best to keep the boy at arms length entirely because of that familiarity with the face staring back at him. It's another of the things he and Apollo have argued ceaselessly about. Naturally, Apollo has attempted to bridge that gap many times and while Ares is still quite close with Artemis, when it comes to Apollo, he is particularly sensitive.

Zeus is the one that ultimately decided that Apollo should never marry. Due to Apollo's love-curse and his already concerning tendency to be overly attached and committed to his mortal affairs and offspring, Zeus decided that marriage would be doom to Apollo's spirit and proclaimed him unfit for the ceremony and its status. Instead of the expected argument, everyone was quite surprised when Apollo merely bowed his head and accepted such an outrageous decision.

[23fallencomets]

idk i think this is gonna become a thing

Keep You Warm

pre-slash norgeant

lando is cold, which isn’t new or anything but there’s something viscous about this one. his fingers feel numb and he has an ache starting in his lower back. he shifts restlessly, moving his back off the wall of the williams’ hospitality.

he was waiting for alex, but he’s half sure he saw lily flitting around behind the glass walls so the chances of alex coming out on time are low. he debates leaving, ducking his way all the way back to the front of the paddock to his own team hospitality.

his thoughts are cut short when the door swings open, logan and his trainer stepping out. the two aren’t talking, his trainer on the phone as logan’s eyes meet lando’s.

lando doesn’t really talk to logan, most because there’s nothing to talk about besides their one true mutual, but there’s only so much you can talk about oscar before it starts sounding possessive and obsessive.

a strong shiver wracks his body, his muscles aching at how tense he’s holding his body. logan tilts his head almost questioningly, eyes tracking his movements as another shiver hits him.

before lando knows it, logan is heading over, waving off his trainer.

“hey, alex says he’ll be a while.” logan says, “he said you can wait inside but at most he’ll take fifteen minutes.”

“it’s because of lily isn’t it?” lando grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. his fingers feel like icicles against his skin, and really, why didn’t he bring his sweater?!

logan shrugs, “i think he was talking to his engineer, actually.” he looks over his shoulder where his trainer is still waiting. logan’s eyes lock with lando’s before hes sighing, unzipping his sweater and thrusting it towards him.

“oscar will kill me if i let his teammate get cold,” logan explains as lando stares at the material almost wearily. it seems soft, thick enough to fight off the chill currently trying to kill him. lando realizes he might’ve taken to long as logan approaches him with a disgruntled huff of his breath, slipping the sweater over lando’s shoulder.

lando is immediately engulfed by the residual body heat, goosebumps flaring across his skin as logan adjusts the sweater. the sweater is almost huge on him, logan’s general height and broadness making him feel like he’s drowning in the unfairly soft material. his nose twitches at the subtle scent of logan’s cologne as the man in question steps back.

“see you around.” and then he’s gone, disappearing down the paddock with his hands in his pockets, his trainer by his side’s.

lando can’t help but stare as he shoves his arms through the sleeves, zipping it up and tries not to think about how the ends drape over his hands.

when alex does show up, the first thing he points out is the sweater, “isn’t that logan’s?”

and all lando can say is, “shut up.” face flushing as he tucks the bottom half of his face into the collar and tries not to make it too obvious that he’s breathing in logan’s scent.

[calo-wav]

because i’m still in love with you / i wanna see you dance again

something something post-canon exes who can't love anyone else because they're still in love with each other but one is rooted to the earth in terror and the other one only finds peace in the stars

fic im writing transparent ver (looks really cool against a dark bg!) + sketch ⮕ final process below