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myopinionhi · 4 years

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A Will Solace Character Analysis: the Underappreciated Soft Side

I've noticed many fanfictions have Will Solace OOC. So I’ve been thinking about aspects of Will’s personality fans seem to either gloss over or exaggerate. Here, this post is me doing an in-depth analysis explaining Will Solace’s canon personality in the books, and how it can sometimes differ from fanfictions. Sprinkled in this analysis are tips to fanfiction writers on how they write Will as more in-character.

There is one major aspect of Will that people seem to ignore or underemphasize. Nico best explains it when describing Will in this quote

Jason was a fighter. You could tell from the intensity of his stare, his constant alertness, the coiled-up energy in his frame. Will Solace was more like a lanky cat stretched out in sunshine. His movements were relaxed and nonthreatening, his gaze soft and far away. In his faded SURF BARBADOS T-shirt, his cutoff shorts and flip-flops, he looked about as aggressive as a demigod could get, but Nico knew he was brave under fire. During the Battle of Manhattan, Nico had seen him in action - the camp's best combat medic, risking his life to save wounded campers.

To sum it up, Will Solace is a very chill and calm character. A lot of writers make Will more irrational, impulsive, overbearing, and emotional than he actually is. Will is not the type of character to create drama unless he's, as Nico puts it, "under fire." In other words, the intense side of his personality doesn't come out unless the situation is urgent or dire.

Fans remember during the Second Giant War how he gets angry and argues with Nico over Nico's health and shadow-traveling, so many assume Will is going to be this fiery over a lot of other things regarding their relationship. For example, fanfic writers may make Will controlling or overly sensitive with Nico. However, keep in mind, Will gets heated with Nico during the Second Giant War because Nico's shadow-traveling is killing him. This is how Will describes Nico's dire state.

"Coach Hedge told me all about your shadow-travel. You can’t try that again."

"I just did try it again, Solace. I’m fine."

"No, you’re not. I’m a healer. I could feel the darkness in your hand as soon as I touched it. Even if you made it to that tent, you’d be in no shape to fight. But you wouldn’t make it. One more slip, and you won’t come back. You are not shadow-travelling. Doctor’s orders."

Will is a healer. When he touches Nico's hand, he can sense how little sleep and food Nico has been getting and how Nico's being taken over by darkness. Nico is on the verge of death and hasn't cared about his health for a long time. Nico is also stubborn about it, so Will has to be aggressive in order to save Nico's life. This aggressive behavior is not the norm for Will, but it can sometimes come out when he has to assert control in a life-or-death situation.

Will is a calming prescence. He's a diplomat. He stops violence on multiple occassions.

He's one of the few people who's able to calm Clarisse's violent rage, and he does so in a gentle manner.

Clarisse pointed her dagger at Rachel. "What about their allies, huh? Did you see that tribe of two-headed men that arrived yesterday? Or the glowing red dog-headed guys with the big poleaxes? They look pretty barbaric to me. It would’ve been nice if you’d foreseen any of that, if your Oracle power didn’t break down when we needed it most!"

Rachel’s face turned as red as her hair. "That’s hardly my fault. Something is wrong with Apollo’s gifts of prophecy. If I knew how to fix it –"

"She’s right." Will Solace, head counsellor for the Apollo cabin, put his hand gently on Clarisse’s wrist. Not many campers could’ve done that without getting stabbed, but Will had a way of defusing people’s anger. He got her to lower her dagger. "Everyone in our cabin has been affected. It’s not just Rachel."

One of the most underrated Will Solace moments is when he stops a bloody battle from happening between Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter.

But he knew it wouldn’t do any good. After weeks of waiting, agonizing and steaming, the Greeks and Romans wanted blood. Trying to stop the battle now would be like trying to push back a flood after the dam broke.

Will Solace saved the day.

He put his fingers in his mouth and did a taxicab whistle even more horrible than the last. Several Greeks dropped their swords. A ripple went through the Roman line like the entire First Cohort was shuddering.

"DON’T BE STUPID!" Will yelled. "LOOK!"

People are so used to seeing demigods, especially male demigods, being aggressive fighters that they can't wrap their heads around a brave and strong demigod who actively tries to avoid unnecessary conflict and destruction as much as he can.

And that's Will Solace's strength: he has the ability to prevent as much harm as possible.

Will is a difficult character to write. There's a lot of dueling factors with his personality. He's calm and pacifying while also being brave and assertive. He's fun and lighthearted while also being intelligent, logical, and grounded. He's laidback while also being responsible and hardworking. He's insecure but not melodramatic. He's very caring and protective but not pushy.

Will's personality confuses Nico sometimes too.

He’d always thought of Will as easygoing and laid back. Apparently he could also be stubborn and aggravating.

The trick to writing Will is to keep in mind his default personality is a soft and lighthearted character. Writers tend to overemphasize the hard side of his personality when his default personality is actually the soft side.

Think of the relaxing, lanky cat metaphor Nico uses for him. He and Nico bicker often, and it works for Will because he rolls with everything and doesn't take things too seriously. He's able to alleviate Nico's moodiness with humor, wittiness, groundedness, and patience. Nico affectionately calls Will a "dork" because Will usually keeps things light. Interestingly enough, he's able to be lighthearted without coming across as insensitive or an airheaded goofball, the latter of which is something Nico dislikes about Percy's personality. On a related sidenote, another way writers make Will OOC is they make him too dumb or too immature. I know I mentioned to focus on Will's soft side, but be careful to avoid that too. He's a SENSIBLE, lanky cat.

The way Will keeps his composure during a stressful situation by using laughter while still being mature is expressed well in this exchange with Apollo. (Yes, Will has a lot to manage.)

It was difficult to think of this young man as my son. He was so poised, so unassuming, so free of acne. He also didn’t appear to be awestruck in my presence. In fact, the corner of his mouth had started twitching.

“Are—are you amused?” I demanded.

Will shrugged. “Well, it’s either find this funny or freak out. My dad, the god Apollo, is a fifteen-year-old—”

“Sixteen,” I corrected. “Let’s go with sixteen.”

“A sixteen-year-old mortal, lying in a cot in my cabin, and with all my healing arts—which I got from you—I still can’t figure out how to fix you.”

“There is no fixing this,” I said miserably. “I am cast out of Olympus. My fate is tied to a girl named Meg. It could not be worse!”

Will laughed, which I thought took a great deal of gall. “Meg seems cool. She’s already poked Connor Stoll in the eyes and kicked Sherman Yang in the crotch.”

The fiercer side of Will's personality comes out only when the situation calls for it; this happens sometimes when he has to be a caring family member, a responsible healer, or a warrior in a dire situation. Even when he gets more forceful, he doesn't get more forceful than he has to.

Since Will has such a balanced and lighthearted personality, what are his flaws? What are the dark sides of his personality? There are four main things that stick out.

1. He's insecure about his self-perceived lack of abilities.

"I agree," Will said. "I wish I was a better archer … I wouldn’t mind shooting my Roman relative off his high horse. Actually, I wish I could use any of my father’s gifts to stop this war." He looked down at his own hands with distaste. "Unfortunately, I’m just a healer."

2. He sometimes struggles to endure the heavy responsibilities he has as a healer and as a protector to his family.

“I got it reattached,” Will told me, his voice shaky with exhaustion. His scrubs were speckled with blood. “I need somebody to keep him stable.”

I pointed to the woods. “But—”

“I know!” Will snapped. “Don’t you think I want to be out there searching too? We’re shorthanded for healers. There’s some salve and nectar in that pack. Go!”

I was stunned by his tone. I realized he was just as concerned about Kayla and Austin as I was. The only difference: Will knew his duty. He had to heal the injured first. And he needed my help.

3. He forces himself to bottle his emotions to keep his composure.

Will laughed under his breath. “I’m terrified. But one thing you learn as head counselor: you have to keep it together for everyone else. Let’s get you on your feet."

Here's a second example.

I rested my hand on Will’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll be back by dawn.”

His mouth trembled ever so slightly. “How can you be sure?”

4. He constantly worries about his loved ones.

Nico rested his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Apollo, we were worried. Will was especially.”

In conclusion, Will Solace's personality is difficult to get correct. But don't worry, if you write Will as a laidback, witty cat in your fanfics, I guarantee he'll be more in-character than many other fanfics with Will Solace.

(Note: I am only human. If you believe I'm misinterpreting some aspects of Will's personality, feel free to express it. What I say isn't 100 percent the right interpretation.)

#pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #will solace #nico di angelo #solangelo #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #spoilers #meta #character analysis #fanfic #fanfiction #blood of olympus #hidden oracle #long post #toa #hoo #apollo

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averykedavra · 3 years

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wherever we are (it feels like home)

Good evening, I am exhausted and here is a fic for my friend @rain-bound because Rain asked for prinxiety and I decided to deliver, three weeks later, at ten at night. Enjoy this self-indulgent hurt/comfort, because I’m about to collapse into bed and sleep for seventy years. You’re the best, Rain <3

(Title from End of the Earth by MARINA. This fic is on Ao3 here!)

Words: 8463

Pairing: Romantic Prinxiety

Warnings: lots of angst for both Virgil and Roman, mentions of the other Sides but they don’t appear, self-deprecation, anxiety and borderline panic attacks, self-hatred, identity issues, crying, and kissing

Three days.

That’s how long it took for Virgil to mess it all up. Three freaking days.

Honestly, he wasn’t even that surprised--if there was one thing he was good at, it was messing stuff up. Thomas had the chance of a lifetime. The person of a lifetime. Virgil had done something good, something brave, and now Thomas had a date.

It was too good to be true.

So he’d messed it up.

They’d been texting, and Thomas had sent a text where the tone was way off--like, way off, like Nico-probably-hated-them-off, and yeah, it was a bit hasty to say that after one text but--but then Thomas tried to apologize and hit send before he was done--and then Nico called them--and Thomas couldn’t talk on the phone, he’d sound stupid and what would he say and no--

Virgil made Thomas deny the call.

The call from Nico. Who knew they had their phone with them. Who knew they weren’t busy.

When Thomas stopped the ringing, a deafening silence filled the room.

He hadn’t even called Nico back--Logan said something about calming down, which was fair, because Virgil was hyperventilating in the corner. Logan counted with him. Logan steadied him.

Logan said it was okay. That one mistake, especially one so small, wouldn’t jeopardize everything. Logan said that things wouldn’t always be so fragile. They’d fall into a rhythm. And for now, they’d fix things.

Virgil tried to breathe. Tried to believe him.

And still knew he’d come so terrifying close to losing everything.

It was so easy. That’s what they’d all learned that day. If Virgil messed up, just a bit, their relationship went down the drain. It wasn’t the point that things got fixed, that Thomas apologized and everyone moved on--that didn’t replace how delicate things were, how everyone was newly aware that this whole thing could shatter if Virgil stepped wrong.

If any of them stepped wrong. But Virgil, it was obvious, was the weak link.

Virgil was going to ruin this.

Of course you’re not, Patton said. Patton said it wasn’t his fault, that they’d all panicked. Patton said he was doing great.

That’s illogical, Logan said. Logan said anyone could have made the same mistake. Logan said Virgil had helped so much already.

Janus hadn’t said anything--Janus had been hanging around a bunch recently, which Virgil wasn’t really on board with, though he hadn’t given Virgil an excuse to yell at him yet--but he’d given Virgil a slow nod.

Thanks, Thomas said when everything was said and done that afternoon. Always keeping me on my toes, Virgil. I appreciate it.

And that would have been enough. It would have been way more than enough.

But there was Roman.

Roman, who was already infatuated with Nico. Roman, who grabbed Virgil’s hands and spun him around that first day, laughing, smiling so much that Virgil’s heart could have burst. Roman, who’d said this is it, called it their newest chance at happiness, and told Virgil he was brave.

Roman cared so deeply about this. He’d been so quiet recently, so hesitant, and it made Virgil burn with a worry he didn’t recognize. The kind of worry, the kind of care, that made Virgil warm and energized and terrified for someone other than himself.

He didn’t really know what that meant. He’d probably be able to figure it out if he thought about it. He decided not to think about it.

Roman. That was all he needed to know. Roman.

Roman, who had ignored him all day, who had picked at his food and not spoken to anyone, who had flinched when Virgil said his name before mumbling something and excusing himself.

Roman, who was upset with him.

That realization made Virgil feel like he was breathing in shards of glass. He’d retreated to his room, done some breathing exercises, and tried to think through it. Roman was mad about what had happened, Virgil knew it--maybe he thought Virgil didn’t care as much as he did. Which was so wrong. Virgil cared just as much as Roman did, because Roman did.

Maybe he thought Virgil did it on purpose. Maybe he was just angry that another chance could be wasted because Virgil couldn’t stop messing everything up.

Virgil was terrified.

Virgil was worried.

Virgil was worried that Roman was not okay. Against all his better judgment, he wanted to ask Roman how Roman felt.

And Virgil was terrified to confirm that Roman hated him--terrified he might make things worse--terrified to see Roman would turn him away--because anyone’s scorn would hurt him but Roman--Roman. Virgil couldn’t think of anything worse than Roman being upset with him.

Well, actually, he could.

Roman being upset.

Roman was upset. And even though Virgil was scared, that didn’t matter right now, because Virgil needed to do something.

That something was apologize. Virgil needed to apologize. And Roman could do whatever afterwards. Virgil’d be fine with Roman hating him afterwards as long as Roman knew he was sorry.

Maybe that’d help. Maybe that wouldn’t. Maybe Virgil didn’t care, because he was done standing by.

Roman had called him brave.

He was going to be brave.

That night, after everyone was asleep or doing a good enough job of pretending to be, Virgil crept down the hall to Roman’s room.

He should have come earlier. Roman was probably asleep, too. But Virgil was nocturnal by this point, and he’d only just managed to work up the courage, and he’d lose it again if he waited a second longer.

Okay, he was already losing his courage. He could feel it slipping away, replaced by panic-anxiety-fear-worry that made him dig his hands deeper into his pockets and take a few strangled breaths. This was fine. This was fine! He would check up on Roman, apologize, and hopefully not be told that he was a terrible friend. Yeah. Yeah!

“Yeah,” Virgil told himself, his voice sounding off in the darkened hallway. “Knock. Come on.”

Slowly, he forced one hand out of his hoodie and balled it in a fist. He took another deep breath. It made his head spin.

This was a terrible idea.

But he was going to be brave right now, and he was going to check on Roman, and--and whatever was going to happen would happen. Nothing he could do about it.

Virgil held his breath and knocked once.

He tried to keep it to a gentle tap--’cause maybe he’d have plausible deniability, say he bumped the door while going to bed, and maybe Roman wouldn’t hear it at all and Virgil could just go back to his room and pretend everything was fine--but Virgil swore the sound echoed three times around the hallway. He pressed himself into the shadows and waited for someone’s door to open. Nobody came to check on him. They were all asleep.

Like Roman probably was. And now Virgil was going to disturb him, wake him up, and Roman always complained about losing beauty sleep--what was Virgil doing--

Helping a friend.

Virgil knocked again, louder, and resisted the strong impulse to curl into a ball and hide.

There was a long, dark, silence.

Virgil could run. He could just--he could just run, bolt for his room, and say it was a prank from Remus if anyone asked--

“Who is it?”

Virgil’s breath caught. Roman’s voice was sleepy but sharp, and he heard Roman walk towards the door. The knob turned.

Run.

This was Roman. Roman was fine. Roman was safe--Virgil knew he was safe. Roman wouldn’t hurt him.

Virgil stayed still.

The door cracked open. “Hello?”

“Hi,” Virgil forced out.

Roman’s head peeked around the door. He had a severe case of bedhead, with hair flopping over his eyes and pushed up at the back like he’d run his fingers through it. Virgil found that ridiculously adorable.

“Virgil!” Roman said, and for a second, he seemed about to smile. Then it faded. Then it was just Roman, blinking tiredly at Virgil with bags under his eyes, his mouth drawn in a thin line. “What do you need?”

“I, um--” Virgil had prepared a quick speech for this. He couldn’t remember a word of it. It--it included the word ‘and,’ right? Definitely ‘and.’ Maybe ‘but,’ too. “I--I know it’s really late, and I’m sorry, but--” There! Nailed it. “But I need to talk to you.”

“Hmm?” Roman seemed to shake himself all the way awake. His mouth drew tighter. “Talk about what?’

Virgil hesitated. “Nico.”

“Nico,” Roman repeated. “Nico?”

“Nico,” Virgil agreed. He probably sounded so stupid, just parroting Roman, but he couldn’t think of what else to say. “So can I--is this a good time--of course it’s not, you’re asleep, but--”

“I--actually, I was awake, it’s alright.” Roman pulled the door a little wider. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

Virgil nodded, swallowed, and let Roman lead the way into his room.

The only lights were a string of fairy lights and a lamp by the desk. They cast a dim golden glow over the room, leaving the red as ashy shadows and the white as creamy dust. Virgil stumbled over something on the floor, and when he looked down, he saw several piles of clothes and bits of paper strewn across the floorboards. The carpet was kicked to the side. Virgil straightened it automatically, and saw a stain in one corner, and a worn patch that dragged over the boards in a way that suggested it was a few days from falling apart.

Outside the window, Roman had chosen a city skyline--dots of white and red filling the sky, lights strung along the buildings like square beads, airplanes blinking their way from place to place. If Virgil breathed in deep, he could smell Roman in this room, like always. Roman smelled like fresh paper. Like rose petals. Like cinnamon. Like something warm and cozy, and Virgil could never get enough of it.

Roman gave Virgil a strange look, and Virgil frantically tried to look like he hadn’t just been smelling Roman’s room like a total creep.

“Sit down, if you’d like,” Roman said, collapsing onto the bed and kicking his legs onto the pillows. Virgil hesitantly perched on the desk chair. Several notebooks spilled across the desk itself, and Virgil quickly looked away. It felt weird to see Roman’s stuff like this--it always did.

Virgil loved Roman’s room, but it wasn’t where he belonged. It was Roman’s space. Virgil was just a visitor--an intruder--an unwelcome guest who ruined the smell of parchment and clashed with the red on the walls.

Virgil loved Roman’s room, but Roman’s room didn’t love him back.

“So,” Roman said, and Virgil realized Roman had been watching him. In the shadows, Virgil couldn’t pick out Roman’s expression--and that set him on edge in a way he didn’t expect, because he knew Roman, and he’d at least banked on being able to read him. Now? Roman could be angry. Roman could be tired. Roman could be any number of things, and Virgil couldn’t tell.

Virgil took a deep breath for like the twentieth time that night and tried really, really hard not to panic.

Roman’s room did make it easier. It was relaxing that way. Maybe it was a thing like Virgil’s room making people more anxious, a side effect of Roman’s power. Maybe it was just because it was Roman’s. Either way, Virgil found that if he tried--if he really tried, and didn’t think about anything except, like, cupcakes--he could avoid entirely breaking down.

Great. Now he had to actually talk.

“So,” Virgil said, an embarrassingly long time after Roman had spoken, but too late to worry about that now. “Um--Nico?”

“Yep, we’ve...we’ve established that one, stormcloud,” Roman said, a touch of fondness in his voice. “We’ve made that clear. Next we go into details.”

“Details. Yeah.” Virgil nodded way too fast. “Cool. So--um.”

“Are you going to talk, or…” Roman laughed a bit. It was a short, sharp laugh, but it was soft enough to make Virgil relax a bit. “It’s okay if you don’t, but I did figure you called this little meeting for a reason, emo.”

“I did,” Virgil protested. “I just--ugh, I don’t know where to start, I--” He looked around. “Um--how are you?”

“What?” Roman was quiet for a second. “I’m...quite princely and glittery, as usual, why do you ask?”

“You--you sure?” Virgil scuffed his toe into the carpet. If Roman wasn’t okay, that was something to talk about--that was maybe a reason he’d avoided Virgil that wasn’t anger--and Virgil was such a coward. Why’d Roman ever call him brave? “Your, um--your room’s a bit of a mess.”

“I suppose I must admit that,” Roman agreed, sitting up and giving the floor a betrayed look. “I’ve been so wrapped up in projects that I’ve hardly had time to clean up.”

“You could have asked one of us,” Virgil said. “I could have, y’know, swept the place a bit. Cleaning’s, like, relaxing for me. I know you don’t really like people in your room, though.”

Roman’s eyebrows came together. “Who told you that?”

“No one?” Virgil blinked. “I just--I mean, I guess I just assumed--”

A sinking feeling in his stomach told him that of course Roman liked other people in his room. He just didn’t like Virgil.

“Forget it,” Virgil mumbled. “Just--yeah.”

He could feel that Roman was watching him. He curled into his hoodie and wondered if he tried hard enough, he could get swallowed up by the shadows.

This was a disaster.

And it could have been better--he’d know what to say if this was Logan, or Patton, or even Janus--but this was Roman. Roman. Roman, who was--he was--

Ugh.

“We need to talk,” Virgil blurted out. Maybe if he said it enough, he’d believe it. They needed to talk. To get this over with. Even if it hurt. “I--I’m really nervous about this, ‘cause obviously, but--” Why’d he say that? To get pity points? Now Roman would be forced to feel bad for him. “--but it’s not a big deal--I mean, it is, but--”

“Virgil.”

Virgil jerked his head up. Roman had turned on another lamp. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, expression achingly soft.

“What?” Virgil asked, all his haunches raised, all his guards up.

“If you’re not ready, we don’t have to do this.” Roman swallowed. “I know it’s--it’s an emotional conversation, and if you would rather Patton or Logan be here--or if you’d like to wait?”

Virgil could wait.

But Virgil needed to--

“We need to talk now,” Virgil said. “I--I won’t have the guts to do it otherwise, I’m sorry--”

“Alright,” Roman said. Virgil thought he saw Roman sink a bit, though. “That works. Take your time, okay? Keep breathing.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. He tried not to feel optimistic about the fact that Roman cared enough to keep him from panicking. Roman could care about him and still be mad--or Roman could just want Virgil to be calm enough for the conversation to happen all at once. Which didn’t really make sense, but Virgil wasn’t about to hope, wasn’t about to try and erase the past days of Roman being upset with him.

With Roman being upset.

If this made Roman feel better, it was worth it.

“So,” Virgil said. And told himself this time--finally--he’d get it right. “We want to talk about Nico?”

“Nico,” Roman agreed, something soft and sad crossing his face.

“He’s--” Virgil fought for words. “He’s--he’s so good, yeah? He’s great. Thomas really likes him, and so do I--I really like him, Roman.”

“I know,” Roman said. Softly. Too softly, and Virgil was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “He’s wonderful.”

“Yeah!” Virgil said. Loudly. Too loudly. His voice echoed through Roman’s room--and he noticed that, unlike all the other times he’d been here, there wasn’t any music playing.

Okay, yeah, it was late. But--it made Virgil’s heart clench a bit, it made his hands jam further into his pockets, and it made him kick at the floor with more vehemence. It was another thing that was wrong--piled onto everything else, onto the shadows and the crumpled papers and everything from the door to the windows. Everything was wrong. Was it wrong because Virgil was there, messing it up? Or had something been wrong from the start?

Patches of light, gold and white and red, skidded over Virgil’s jacket. From the window, from the lamps, from the fairy lights high above. They bled through the purple patches and turned them an ugly shade of brown.

“Nico’s great,” said Virgil, slowly, quietly. Like he didn’t want to disrupt something. “And--and Thomas messed up a bit, the other day.”

I messed up, he didn’t finish with. Roman would know.

“He did,” Roman said, voice tight.

“And that’s--I think that’s maybe a sign that--” Virgil waved a hand, felt self-conscious about said hand existing, and shoved it back into his hoodie. “Look, I like Nico. So much. And I really think we can do this if we try--I mean, I hope so, I really hope so--”

“We can,” Roman interrupted. “We have to make this work.”

“Right. Yeah.” Virgil took a breath. “So--”

“So we’ll work harder.” Roman waved a hand at Virgil. “We’re--we can do this, we’re ready, if Thomas is ready than we’re ready! All of us!”

“I’m not saying we’re not ready,” Virgil said. “I’m saying we need to be careful.”

The brief passion in Roman’s eyes faded again. “I know.”

“So--so--” Virgil tried to force himself to stick words together. He should apologize. He should say sorry and let Roman figure out what to do next, but it was shadowy and cold and smelling of red paint and parchment and Virgil was lost.

“I know,” Roman said again. He sounded tired. It was late--and he’d been awake--and he sounded exhausted--and he hadn’t been planning to sleep, he’d said he had trouble sleeping--and Virgil felt like he was grasping at puzzle pieces, trying to pull the shadows and lights into something coherent. He felt vaguely dizzy. His stomach churned. Maybe it was Roman’s room making him see all these dots to connect, filling him with the worst kind of imagination.

“It’ll be okay,” Virgil said. To Roman? To himself? To someone, anyway.

Roman curled into himself, just a bit. “I don’t know.”

Virgil swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah, actually. I--me neither.”

A long silence. Imaginary airplanes skidded over the skyline, and Virgil wished he could go on one of them, fly far away from here. And take Roman, if he was willing--take Roman and steal him away from all this and keep him happy and safe--they could both be safe. And they could see the world.

“So,” Virgil said, slowly, for the seventh or eighth time, like that’d drag the conversation to its conclusion. “I know you’ve been avoiding us--”

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” Roman interrupted. Too fast. Too vehement. Roman was definitely lying, and Virgil hated how bad that made him feel.

“I know you have,” Virgil said, hating even more the defensive edge his voice gained. “I know you’ve been avoiding me, and--and if you’re cool with that, I’m cool with that, but--”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Roman lied again. Barely trying this time, like he didn’t care if Virgil saw through it. “I’ve just been a bit wrapped up in projects, Stormy Knight, I promise it wasn’t--”

“Princey, c’mon.” Something about the familiar nickname gave Virgil courage. “I don’t mind. I get it! It’s...it’s justified, it was all a mess a few days ago, it’s--if I’m being honest, it’s been a mess this whole time, and--and you can take as much time as you need to figure stuff out on your end. Or--or maybe there’s nothing to figure out, maybe it’s not like that, but--” Virgil was rambling again. He knotted his hands together and focused on the texture of his jacket. “Maybe you--maybe you’ve already made up your mind, maybe this can’t really be fixed, but--”

Everything was a mess. Everything was coming out all wrong and Virgil needed to say something that made sense. His head was spinning with lights and shadows and the smell of roses. He was sure he was tilting forward in the chair. It was late at night. He was running on adrenaline and guilt. He was trying and he didn’t know if Roman got it--if Roman understood that Virgil was sorry, that Virgil would try to be better, and that Roman could be angry as long as he liked, but Virgil was here for him and didn’t want him to be upset--

There! There was what to say! So why couldn’t Virgil say it out loud?

“I’m--this is coming out wrong,” Virgil blurted out. “I’m really not making any sense, am I?”

“I think I’ve put the bigger pieces together,” Roman said.

“Which pieces?”

Roman gave Virgil a sharp look and Virgil wilted. The look softened.

“I can tell you what I’ve got so far,” Roman suggested. “How about that? And then, if I’ve got it wrong, you can correct me. I can ask questions if I’m confused. Does that work?”

Virgil almost collapsed with relief. Yeah. He could do that.

“Sure,” he said. “Shoot, Princey.”

“You’re talking about what happened a few days ago,” Roman said. “When Thomas made a bit of a mistake with Nico. And--and in general, all the bumps we’ve had in the road here, you know? It hasn’t exactly been the smoothest of rides.”

“It hasn’t,” Virgil admitted. “And yeah, that’s--what I was talking about.”

“Good!” Roman looked almost pleased with himself, and Virgil suppressed a smile. “So--we have to work from here, right? We have to figure out--you know, who’s helping and who’s not, and how we can work together. And make sure we’re all clear about--” Something passed over his face. “Who’s not necessarily meant to play a huge role, if we want this to work.”

Virgil balled his fists. “Yeah.”

“We both care about Thomas,” Roman said, a sad smile crossing his face. “I’m sorry that I’ve been avoiding you. I’ve merely been thinking things through a bit. Nico’s so wonderful, and Thomas deserves him, and it’ll take work for this to become something real.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said numbly.

“So we need to start figuring stuff out on our own ends, and finding out who’s helpful with that and who’s detrimental.” The lights played off Roman’s face as he leaned onto his knees and stared at the floor. “What mistakes can be worked with, and what mistakes are a symptom of something else--and Virgil, I’m so sorry.”

“You--” Virgil felt a strange cold streak pass through his chest, like a comet, an airplane sliding through the sky. “You’re sorry? You don’t--Princey, you don’t have to be--”

“Of course I do!” Roman burst out. “I--you tried so hard to make this happen, you put yourself out there and risked everything for him! I--I gave up, and you kept fighting, and for what? For me to--to ruin everything we’ve built? I’m sorry, I’m trying, and--and I’m really not meant for this, Virgil, I don’t think I am--”

“Meant for--” The cold feeling had spread to Virgil’s whole body now, numbing his fingers. “You’re--Roman, what--”

“I’m sorry,” Roman said again. Like that was an explanation. And his voice cracked in the middle, and it made Virgil want to cry, and he didn’t know what was happening--

“Roman,” Virgil forced out. His voice was raspy. “Roman, what are you talking about? Why are you sorry?”

“I--what?” Roman blinked at him. “Pardon? Why--why wouldn’t I be sorry?”

“Because you didn’t do anything?” Virgil’s voice pitched upwards incredulously. “What are you even saying--I came in here ‘cause you’re mad at me, I’m trying to--”

“Mad at you?” Roman repeated, and apparently it was Roman’s turn to look completely flabbergasted. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“‘Cause I messed up!” Virgil burst out. “I messed up, I almost ruined everything, I’m just so scared I’m gonna take this away from you--and you need it, you deserve it, and I’m trying to get it for you--but I’m not good at this, I’m not good--I’m really sorry, Princey--I promise I’m gonna try--”

“Virgil,” Roman said quietly, and for some reason that made Virgil stop talking immediately. “You--what?”

“I came in here to say sorry,” Virgil said, probably sounding pathetic, but he was confused and tired and three seconds from crying. “I--I’m sorry. There. I don’t know why--why it took me so long to say it.”

“You’re sorry--” Roman looked completely bewildered, but there was concern in there--aching concern that made the lump in Virgil’s throat grow bigger. “You’re sorry--Virgil, I promise you’ve done nothing wrong! I’m not mad at you!”

“You--” Virgil repeated the words in his head. No way he’d just heard that. “You--aren’t?”

“No!” And now Roman looked seriously upset. “You thought I was--Virgil, you’ve done wonderfully during all this, you’re an absolute star, I still can’t believe you made this happen--except I can, quite honestly, I always knew you had it in you--”

Virgil stared at him, mouth open.

“I’m not mad at you,” Roman finished, his voice almost pleading. “I promise. You don’t have to apologize to me.”

“Oh,” Virgil forced out. It didn’t cover anything. It didn’t cover the way he wanted to cry, or laugh, or hug Roman tight and bury his face in Roman’s shoulder and--

“Oh,” Virgil said again.

“You’re doing so good,” Roman whispered. “I’m proud of you.”

“Oh,” Virgil said. A third time. Because he was going to cry.

Roman gave him a soft smile. “You’re my hero.”

And okay--okay, Roman couldn’t just--he couldn’t just--

Before Virgil could stop himself, he raced over to Roman and tackled him in a hug.

Roman made a surprised noise that turned into a coo as he reached up and steadied Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil tightened his grip around Roman and considered burying his head in Roman’s shoulder, like he’d dreamed of--Roman was so solid, and smelled really nice, and maybe Virgil could just fall asleep here, spend the night in Roman’s room and not worry about anything else--

“You alright over there, emo nightmare?” Roman asked, his voice rumbling in Virgil’s chest. “Anything you need?”

And, oh yeah, this was Roman. Virgil had just tackle-hugged Roman.

Virgil quickly pushed himself out of Roman’s arms, falling into a heap on the bed next to him.

“Whoa, hey, where’s the fire?” Roman laughed, but his eyes were still wide with concern. “Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Yes. No. More than ever. It’s never been and Virgil wouldn’t know how to handle it if it was.

“You--” Virgil had something he wanted to say. Besides the sorry. Because--because Roman--

“Me,” Roman agreed, giving Virgil a dorky little smile.

And, okay, not fair, now Virgil was distracted by cute. Virgil swatted at him and hissed, and Roman laughed a bit. It was great. It was normal. It was--

It was too normal.

It was the kind of normal Virgil didn’t trust. ‘Cause a minute ago, they’d been staring at each other and Roman had been--

Apologizing.

Hold on.

“Roman,” Virgil said slowly. “What was all that about?”

“What?” Roman blinked at him. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, lightning bug.”

Virgil fought a flush at the nickname. He swore Roman was doing that on purpose--trying to distract him, turn this on Virgil, but Virgil wasn’t going to lose track of things again. Virgil was going to actually, like, talk about things.

Virgil was such a mess.

Especially late at night, especially while upset, and this was just a cocktail of terrible ideas. And who knew what was going on with Roman? Who knew if Roman was really not okay or if he was fine and Virgil was reading too much into things or--

Only one to find out, though, right?

Bravery.

Virgil looked at Roman. “I’m worried about you.”

There. There it really was. And honestly--under all the guilt, the panic, the self-doubt--this was what Virgil had wanted to say, all along.

Roman, for his part, looked like Virgil had struck him in the face. It took him a few tries to speak. “And may I ask why?”

“You were, like, apologizing earlier,” Virgil said. “You were saying--like, like you thought I was here to yell at you, to say you did something wrong--and I don’t even get that, like what the heck have you done--”

“What haven’t I done?” Roman fired back, and Virgil would mistake it for teasing if it weren’t for the tightness in his mouth and the way he inched away from Virgil on the bed.

“You’ve--you’re Thomas’ romantic side,” Virgil said. “You’re the reason he likes Nico, you’re the one who’s making this work, it’s all you--”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Roman snapped.

Virgil hated the way he flinched.

“I--” Roman looked instantly regretful. “I didn’t mean to yell, I just--”

“It’s fine,” Virgil said. And he took a deep breath. And it was. “I’m saying you’re important. You’re valuable.”

“I know,” Roman said.

“You’re the reason this is happening!”

“I know.”

“Without you, it doesn’t work--”

“I know.”

“We can’t do this without you!”

“Well, maybe you should!”

Virgil flinched again. But not because Roman was too loud--and it was so much better with Roman, it wasn’t perfect and maybe not even that great but it was better, Virgil could take a breath and move forward--but because of Roman’s face. Twisted. Tight. Eyes sparkling in the lights, fists balled on his pajamas, and the way he tried to smile when Virgil looked. He tried to--to smile.

Virgil hated that. So much.

“Roman,” Virgil said, as softly as he could. “We...we need you, we--”

“Yeah, and I’ve been doing a swell job of helping you guys,” Roman said, and that was bitterness, that was a shade of bitter that Virgil had never heard in his life. He hated that, too. “I appreciate the sentiment, Virgil, but I also have to recognize that I’ve hardly been the best at helping Thomas recently--”

“I need you, then.” Virgil didn’t know where the words were coming from. “You know what? Screw Thomas. I’m not talking about him. I need you. I can’t--I’m doing all this for you, Roman. You get that, right? I--you want this, you want this so badly, and so I’m trying to make this happen.” Virgil let out a little laugh that could have been a sob. “And I’m failing. And I’m getting stuck. ‘Cause it’s me. But Roman--Roman, if you need me to, I will keep trying. I will do as much as you need me to.” Virgil choked on something that was definitely a sob. “Because you deserve something good right now. You deserve to be happy.”

Roman was staring at Virgil. Roman was staring and something in him was trembling. Shaking. Coming apart in the shadows and slipping away in the lights.

“And I’m sorry,” Virgil finished. “I’m sorry I’m not doing great at it--and I’m sorry I never told you all this, ‘cause you didn’t know--ugh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you didn’t know, I didn’t see that you--”

“Virgil,” Roman said, voice choked. “Virgil, you--you don’t have to do any of this. You know that, right? You don’t have to make this work for me--to try and be nice--to be here, right now--”

“But I want to.” Virgil shook his head. “Ro, I want to, so much--this is what I want. I want to help. And you...you need help right now.”

Roman flinched a bit, just enough for Virgil to notice. “I don’t--can’t we wait until morning? I’m always incoherent at night, this is all a bit of a melodramatic moment--”

“Nope,” Virgil said firmly. “We’re not gonna dance around this one, okay? I’ve done enough of that. You’re not--you’re so not okay, and I get the feeling I’m only seeing, like, one quarter of it. And you don’t have to hide that.”

Roman was quiet. His eyes followed the seams of the quilt.

“Hey. Look at me.” Virgil hesitantly placed a hand on Roman’s. “It’s okay. I promise. Talk to me--cry, scream, whatever. But do something. We can’t have any kind of true lo--any kind of...anything. If the relationship isn’t built on truth.”

Roman looked up, slowly, and Virgil saw that his eyes were watering.

Virgil couldn’t help the little noise he made. ‘Cause Roman wasn’t meant to look like that. Like he expected Virgil to turn on him and yell. Like he was trying to disappear into the shadows before anyone could know he was there.

“I don’t--” Roman wiped at his eyes. “Virgil, I don’t know--I can’t--I’m not--”

“What aren’t you?” Virgil asked.

“I’m not what I’m supposed to be!” Roman burst out, and then he was rambling, hands flying. “I’m not productive, I’m not able to focus on anything, I never get stuff done on time--Zeus knows I’m not organized, I’m not serious enough--I’m not creative--and I’m not--I’m not good, I’m not the hero, I’m not the perfect prince and you all need me to be that but I’m not--I’m not anything!”

“Oh,” Virgil breathed, and he shook his head, over and over. “Roman, no, I promise that’s so, so wrong--”

“Then what am I?” Roman challenged, eyes sparkling and voice so brittle. He was seconds from breaking. Virgil was watching his best friend--his everything--break apart, and Virgil should have been frantic. Virgil should have been trying to put the pieces back together before everything comes crashing down.

Virgil took a deep breath.

“Roman,” he said slowly, “do you want a hug?”

“I--” Roman looked like nobody had ever asked that question in his life. “I--if you’re okay with--”

Virgil opened his arms and gave Roman a little nod.

Roman’s hug was stiff. Roman’s hug was cold. Roman’s hug would have lasted about three seconds if Virgil hadn’t wrapped an arm around Roman’s shoulders to keep him there.

“I’m okay with it,” Virgil told him, quietly. “And jeez, Princey, you’re acting like I’m holding a gun to your head. Relax.”

Roman did not relax.

“It’s okay,” Virgil said. Even softer. “It’s okay, I promise it’s okay, it’s so messed up right now but we’re gonna figure this out, I promise--”

Roman trembled, just a bit, in Virgil’s grasp. Virgil shifted slightly until he was leaned against the headboard, and Roman was crumpled in his arms.

“Stop trying to hug me,” Virgil said gently. “It’s messing everything up. I’m hugging you right now--you can hug me later, you dork.”

Roman didn’t move. Virgil carefully slipped him off Virgil’s shoulder and pulled him to his chest instead. Roman--Roman was so small, and it made Virgil wonder how Roman could be so firm and solid and still so small in his arms.

Roman’s head was tucked under Virgil’s now. Virgil had the urge to press a kiss on top of it. He settled for running a hand through Roman’s hair, enjoying the fluffy texture and detangling some of the knots. Bedhead. When was the last time Roman slept?

“I don’t know,” Roman said, when Virgil asked him. “I--I don’t know much, Virge.”

“What do you know?” Virgil asked.

“I--” Roman hesitated. “You guys. Logan likes cinnamon buns, and Patton’s favorite dog breed is a retriever, and you--you bite your nails, but you paint them on weekends sometimes, and you pretend they’re all black but there’s a bit of purple on there, it’s adorable--and you hate strawberries--and once you gave me a gift and pretended it was from Logan but I know it was you because you write your R’s all pointy--and your hair always flops over your eyes, and--”

Virgil fought back a wave of emotion. “Um--that’s great, Ro. I appreciate that. Can you--can you tell me what you know about yourself?”

Roman was silent for way too long. “Why ruin the moment?”

“Disagree,” Virgil said. “Anything? It’s okay if not, but--basic stuff. What do you like? What do you think about?”

“I dunno,” Roman mumbled. “I like Disney. But Disney’s pretty stupid.”

“Hey,” Virgil complained. “Disney’s the best. Don’t crap on your favorite company.”

“Disney’s really capitalist.”

“That’s fair,” Virgil admitted. “But--you’re allowed to like stuff, Ro.”

Roman curled up a bit in his arms.

“What do you know?” Virgil decided to say. “About you. It can be anything.”

Roman was pressed tight against Virgil’s chest. Virgil ran a hand down his side and felt Roman shudder a bit. His hands were moving, running up and down the patches on Virgil’s jacket, fingering the bumps of the seams.

“I’m Roman,” Roman finally said. He laughed a bit. Virgil didn’t.

“Good, that’s true.” Virgil nodded. “What else?”

“I’m a Side of Thomas,” Roman continued. His voice was quiet. “I’m his...his Creativity. And Passion, and all that.”

“Yep.”

“I...I work with you guys. I work on stuff. I write. It’s not good, but I write.”

“Yep!”

“I sing, I act, I--” Roman huffed. “Pretty terrible at it.”

“Gonna beg to differ on that one, Princey.” Virgil smirked. “Your singing voice is really loud, but I like it.”

Roman curled, somehow, even tighter. “I--I don’t have anything else.”

“That’s okay,” Virgil said. “Do you want me to take a turn?”

“Okay.”

“Great.” Virgil leaned back against the headboard and watched the lights flicker. “You’re Roman, like you said. You’re--you’re my best friend, dude.”

Roman shuddered, just a bit.

“You’re my best friend,” Virgil repeated. “You--at first, I never liked you, ‘cause you were just...so extra, you know? So big and grand and huge. And that--that scared me. I was so scared of you back then. And I was so envious--I wanted to be like you. To not care what anyone thought. You just...put it all out there, and you were everyone’s hero, and I’d stare at you and wonder how you managed to do it.”

Virgil laughed. “And then everything changed. And then you were my friend--or at least, I hoped so. We--got along, we got to know each other, and all the stuff I didn’t get about you? All the stuff I hated, I was afraid of? It all turned out to be the best stuff. ‘Cause it’s what made you, you. It wouldn’t really work with anyone else--but since it’s all part of you, I never minded. I don’t mind.” Virgil swallowed. “You want me to tell you some stuff about that? Some stuff I’ve noticed?”

“Sure,” Roman whispered.

“Great.” Virgil looked down at Roman. “You stick out your tongue when you’re thinking, did you know that? You stick it out and you’re staring at whatever you’re working on and it’s just stupidly adorable--and! And you do this little happy dance when you’re excited, you kinda bounce from foot to foot and do a little squeal and I wish I could get excited like you do--when you’re happy, you just make everyone around you happier, you’re--” Virgil struggled for words. “You’re radiant. You’re, like--I see you, and I know--I know it’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna work out.”

Roman was shaking now. Virgil tugged him even closer and--because why not--pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head.

“And yeah, we’ve had our rough spots. Everyone has.” Virgil sighed. “And you’re--you’re gonna mess up. Maybe you’re not everything you think you’re supposed to be. Maybe you’re not gonna end up--the prince, the dreamer, or whatever. Maybe not--maybe not even the hero. And that’s okay. ‘Cause you’re still gonna be you.”

Roman’s breath hitched.

“You’re gonna be you,” Virgil continued, “and I’m gonna help you, and I’m gonna fight for you, and--and I’m gonna be brave for you, I promise--and you could be anything and that’d be true. You could be a Dark Side tomorrow. You could completely change functions. You could--you could be anything, but you’d still be Roman, and I--I’ll be here. No matter what.”

The lights skidded over the ceiling. Roman had stopped rubbing his hands on Virgil’s jacket. He was just still, still and silent and trembling like a plucked string.

“You’re Roman,” Virgil said. “And I don’t even have words for how--how freaking fantastic you are, every day--you’re--you’re my friend. You’re--so much more than that.” Virgil closed his eyes. “I love you, Ro. So much. And you might not really have everything figured out, and I definitely don’t, but--if it means anything, I know who you are, because you’re always going to be the person I love.”

And Virgil was crying. Virgil sniffed and wiped his eyes, but the choked noises didn’t stop--and he realized Roman was crying too, sobbing quietly into Virgil’s jacket. It was small cries. Quiet--too quiet, the cry of someone who’d been used to keeping it hidden.

“Oh,” Virgil said, gathering Roman in his arms and pressing his forehead to Roman’s. Tears dripped down Roman’s cheeks, and he clung to Virgil’s jacket for dear life, breath hitching. “Roman, Princey, love, it’s going to be okay, I promise--”

Roman pressed himself closer, crying, and Virgil let him stay.

“It’s going to be okay,” Virgil whispered into his hair, “you’ll figure it out. I’m here. I’ve got it covered. I promise it’s okay--you can let it out, keep crying, it’s okay--we’ll figure it out--I’m not gonna stop loving you, I’m not gonna stop looking out for you--”

Roman’s sobs grew louder and Virgil kept talking. “It’s okay,” he said, over and over again. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Maybe if he said it enough, Roman would believe it.

Maybe if he said it enough, Virgil would, too.

“It’s okay,” Virgil said, and meant it.

“You’re doing amazing,” Virgil said, and meant it.

“I love you,” Virgil said, and couldn’t imagine not meaning it, not being so entirely in love with Roman that it ached with it and dripped with it and filled every word. He heard it. He heard it and he heard it and he finally couldn’t hide from it--because maybe Roman could hear too, and maybe Roman would listen.

“I love you,” Virgil said, and for once he wasn’t afraid of it. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” was the first thing Roman said when his tears slowed. “I love you, Virgil, I love you--”

“I know,” Virgil said. And meant it. “I know, Ro, it’s okay--”

“I’m sorry,” Roman whispered.

“Don’t be.”

“I’m sorry--”

“Fine, then, I’m sorry too.” Virgil pressed his forehead to Roman’s and wiped away his tears with a hand. And he left it there, resting on Roman’s cheek, because he didn’t want to let go. “I’m sorry. And look at that--that’s okay. We can get better from here. I swear.”

Roman laughed wetly. “The Nico thing is a disaster.”

“The Nico thing is something we’ll figure out,” Virgil said. “We’ve got this. It’ll work.”

“We’re not--” Roman sighed. “We’re not ready for it, are we?”

“I’m not, and you’re not.” Virgil laughed a bit. “But, um, maybe two not-readies makes a ready?”

“Doubt it,” Roman whispered, and Virgil suddenly realized how close they were, foreheads pressed together. He could--he could move forward, just a bit, and--

“We’ll try,” Roman said, lips parting. “We’ll try, can’t we? Can’t we try? Do we--do we get that?”

“Yes,” Virgil said. “Yes, we get that, you get that--we’ll try, we’ll try and we’ll make it work somehow, I promise--”

“And if it doesn’t?” Roman’s voice was so quiet, so thin, the trail of an airplane across the stars. “What if we make things worse?”

Virgil couldn’t say he hadn’t thought of that. Obviously. Worrying was his job, and he saw the possible ramifications to everything, of course he’d thought through every possible outcome of this. And--and still.

Whatever made Roman happy, Virgil would do.

Because that always made Virgil happy, too.

“We’ll figure it out,” Virgil said. “You--you know what taking a chance is? You know what it is, to do something you want, even though it could hurt?”

“What?” Roman murmured, just a breath from Virgil’s lips.

Virgil smiled. “Bravery.”

Roman’s eyes flickered open.

They were so, so close. Lights spun around them, shadows crept away, and Virgil could--Virgil could--

“Hey,” Virgil said, barely above a whisper. “Can I--”

Roman’s eyes flickered down to Virgil’s lips and back up.

And Virgil didn’t know who moved. Maybe it was him. Maybe Roman. Maybe it didn’t matter, because they moved, and then Virgil was kissing Roman for the first time.

Okay.

Cool.

Wow.

Virgil didn’t know what he was doing--it didn’t matter, though, since he was kissing Roman--and all he could think of was how much he’d wanted this, how much he’d told himself he didn’t want this, how much he’d never wanted to cradle Roman’s face in his hands and tangle his hand in Roman’s hair and--

Virgil tangled a hand in Roman’s hair. It was exactly as good as he’d hoped.

And Roman pushed him back, against the headboard, and Roman was kissing him, and Virgil was breathless and weightless and absolutely okay with it.

Virgil could have been floating. Virgil could have been drifting in the cold night hair, among the stars, because the world was dark and filled with pinpricks of light and all he knew was warm skin under his fingers and a hand around his waist and the way Roman held him like this was all Roman had ever wanted, too--

And of course, they had to break apart, because Virgil couldn’t stay breathless--although gosh did he want to, to just lose time in Roman’s arms--

They separated.

Virgil was sure he could count every fleck of light in Roman’s eyes. A blush had settled across his cheeks, his hair was even messier than usual, and he was staring at Virgil like Virgil had hung the moon.

“Huh,” Roman said.

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed.

Roman snickered. Virgil snorted. And then they were laughing, inches apart, giggling on the bed at maybe two or three in the morning, still entangled in each other and neither moving to separate their hands.

“So,” Roman finally said, his laughing settling into a smile. “That was...okay.”

“I was okay with it,” Virgil blurted out. “Um. More than okay. And--I don’t know what it means, what you want it to mean, but--”

“It meant I like you,” Roman said. As if it was obvious. Maybe it was. “A lot. And--”

“And we want to try this,” Virgil said. “For real?”

“We can’t exactly try it for fake, can we?” Roman teased.

“We’re trying,” Virgil said. “We’re trying?”

“Yes,” Roman said. “I--I mean, we might fail, I might--”

“And then we’ll figure it out.” Virgil reached for a bit of courage, deep inside him, and found it came more naturally when Roman was pressed into him. “We’ll try it out, okay?”

Roman laughed a bit. “We’re not ready.”

“Nah, but life does that sometimes, right?” Virgil sighed. “We’re--we’ll be ready, soon enough. One day. And right now, we’ll just kind of...wing it?”

“Wing it,” Roman repeated. “A daring battle plan, emo.”

“Hey, you’re the hero here.” Virgil, despite himself, felt his lips curl in a smile. “We’ll figure it out, Princey. And--and maybe we won’t really know who we are, what we want--any of that--for a while. Maybe never again, who knows. But if I don’t take this chance, I’ll regret it.”

“So will I,” Roman said. “And--quite honestly, I’m a bit tired of regrets.”

“So let’s give it our all,” Virgil said. “We’ll never know until we try.”

“We’ll try,” Roman agreed, and placed a kiss on Virgil’s lips that tasted of salt and cinnamon. Virgil melted into it, and when they pulled away, let Roman curl up next to him. It was late. Virgil could happily fall asleep right here--and really, that wasn’t such a bad idea.

“When’s the last time you slept?” he mumbled, watching the lights dance over Roman’s face.

“Dunno,” Roman slurred, watching Virgil with soft eyes.

“Well, it’s gonna be now.” Virgil threw an arm over Roman. “Get some sleep, Princey.”

“You first.”

“What, you think I’m leaving?” Virgil snuggled closer, and Roman wrapped an arm around his waist. “Nope. You’re stuck with me.”

“Hmm.” Roman hummed to himself. “Okay with that.”

“Good, so am I.” Virgil kissed Roman’s forehead. “Come on. No talk, only sleep.”

“I love you,” Roman said, immediately breaking the rule. But Virgil couldn’t get mad. “And--I--thank you, I--”

“You’re welcome,” Virgil said. “I’d do it anytime.”

Roman smiled and closed his eyes. “You’re my hero, emo.”

And Virgil would never admit the way his heart softened.

“Thanks,” Virgil whispered. “You’re my hero, too.”

Roman was already drifting off. The floor was crowded, the door swung open, the desk was messy--and eh, whatever. They’d figure it out tomorrow. Right now, they both needed sleep, and the windows were wide to the starry sky.

“And I don’t even care,” Virgil said, “if you’re not my hero. You don’t have to be.”

He looked over at Roman, and he smiled.

“As long as you’re mine, we’re good.”

“We’re good,” Roman echoed, eyes still closed.

“We’ll be good,” Virgil agreed.

And he tried to believe it--he told himself he would believe it, he could, he deserved to--and he found, in the end, it wasn’t as hard as he thought it’d be.

They’d be good.

They’d be okay.

And they’d find their way forward.

Virgil fell asleep next to Roman, surrounded by drifting lights and warm shadows, and there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

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#sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #i banged ninety-five percent of this out this evening #djkhgfds i'm so tired but i wanted to get at least one WIP out of the way #anyway take care of urself yall don't write 8k in one sitting #averywrites

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stanning-reyna · 3 years

Text

Valgrace One-shot

AN: In my ideal valgrace au, Jason and Leo’s first kiss is at their reunion after Leo returns from Ogygia, so I decided to write it! Enjoy!

The bright sunlight reflected off the ocean surface, nearly blinding Jason. He sat at the coastal restaurant with Piper, Hazel, Frank, and Nico. His elbows rested on his knees as he leaned forward anxiously.

They had been told that Leo would be here, but so far there had been no sign of the son of Hephaestus. He had been gone for 2 weeks now. Jason didn’t know what he’d do if they didn’t find him.

Jason knew none of this would be happening if he had done something different. He could have gone after Leo when he fist went missing. He could have forced answers of out the wind god Notus. He was a soldier, after all. It was his job to know how to deal with situations like this.

But there was something about it- something about Leo- that made it hard for him to act efficiently. Jason had spent weeks trying to figure out what had happened to his keen decision making ability. He had never felt like this at Camp Jupiter.

Piper nudged Jason’s shoulder from her seat next to him.

“He’ll show up. Just wait,” she said reassuringly. Jason knew there was some charmspeak slipped in there, but it hardly did anything to calm his nerves.

From across the table, Hazel and Nico shared a pastry covered in a pink syrup. Hazel looked relieved just to be off the rocking ship and on dry land. Frank was skimming through a newspaper. Very quickly, mind you, since he couldn’t read any Italian.

Jason rocked back in his chair, scanning the bay in front of him. No sign of Leo. The anxiety in him just grew. He leaned forward and rested his head on his knee, trying to relax.

Just keep it together, he told himself. That was all he could do right now.

Piper nudged his side again. When he looked up, she was pointing down at the slope below the balcony they sat on. A small figure was slowly making its way up the rocks.

“Of course Leo couldn’t just walk in the front door,” Piper remarked with a laugh.

Sure enough, the figure had the curly hair and erratic walk of Leo.

Before Jason knew what he was doing, his legs pushed him over the balcony railing. He fell for only a moment before the wind came up underneath him, guiding him down the hill. The boy below looked up in shock.

Within seconds, Jason was at his side. Leo stared at him in silence. He stared back. Neither of them had any brilliant words to say in the situation.

So Jason did what felt best. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around Leo. Leo stiffened under the boy’s touch at first, but then relaxed into it. Jason could tell just how exhausted his friend was. His arms were weak around him.

Leo suddenly pulled himself away from Jason. He stood there rather awkwardly, waiting for one of them to speak.

“I’m so glad you’re ok,” Jason said, meeting Leo’s dark brown eyes with his own. They held something that hadn’t been there before.

“You know me. Hard to please, and even harder to kill,” Leo responded, attempting a smile. Jason could see right through it. Something significant had happened to him while he was gone.

And it was Jason’s fault. If he had fought better, his friend wouldn’t be experiencing this right now.

“What do you look so sad for?” Leo asked. Jason realized he had been staring at him.

“Nothing. I just really missed you.” Jason found himself blushing after the words came out. He hadn’t said that out load before.

“Oh,” Leo murmured, looking down at the ground. “I’m sorry I made you feel bad.”

“Leo, you don’t need to apologize for anything,” Jason clarified. “It was hell on the Argo II without you. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

Leo’s eyes lit up with panic.

“I need to finish a bunch of repairs, don’t I? Sorry I left y’all to deal with my mess. Did she hold up ok?” he asked frantically, beginning to climb up the climb up the hill at twice the speed he had been going before.

“There are more important things than that,” Jason said quietly from a few feet behind Leo. Like being with you, he wanted to add.

If Leo had heard him, he didn’t act like it, because he kept moving.

There was at least 50 feet of rocks between them and the balcony. It would be a treacherous climb back up, but Jason could help with that.

He lounged forward, grabbing Leo around the waist, and propelled both of them up into the air.

Leo flailed for a moment, letting out a few unsavory words, until Jason secured his grip on him. The two boys were now pressed against each other, face to face.

“Gee, ever heard of a heads up before?” Leo asked. Jason could feel his breath on his neck as he spoke.

He didn’t respond. He didn’t move them towards the balcony either. He wanted to treasure this moment of peace, alone with Leo, before they resumed their life of dodging monsters at every turn.

Leo didn’t seem to quite understand. “The rest are that way-“

“Can I kiss you?” Jason blurted out.

He immediately regretted it when he saw the look of pure confusion on Leo’s face. Jason felt his entire face and neck flush red. Of course Leo wouldn’t want to kiss him. There were so many other people out there more interesting and more welcoming than Jason- more human. Leo deserved one of those people.

Leo made a sound too quiet for Jason to hear.

“Ok,” the son of Hephaestus repeated, just barely louder than the first time.

Jason felt his heart flutter within his chest. He eyes gazed over the boys face. Leo skin had a pink tint to it- probably a lot like Jason’s.

Leaning in slowly, Jason pressed his lips to Leo’s.

“Hell yeah! Finally!” yelled a voice from above. They broke apart to find Piper staring down at them from the balcony.

“Sorry!” she called out.

Jason felt his face go even redder, if possible.

#valgrace #valgrace fanfic #jason grace #leo valdez #jason grace fanfic #leo valdez fanfic #heroes of olympus #hoo fanfic #hoo fanfiction #house of hades #heroes of olympus fanfic #hoo fandom #hoo series #hoo

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thebigqueer · 3 years

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"Broken Internally." - Nico di Angelo

Summary: Nico meets Eros for the first time in his dreams.

TW: Blood (lots of it), Gore, Internalized Homophobia.

Notes: This was inspired (again lol) by this art by @rottingold

Word Count: 2840

Read on AO3

Nothingness.

Nico suffocates in the empty enclosure. His heart echoes with fear and anxiety as he faces the looming darkness before him. Nico knows this is just a dream, but that doesn’t quell the anxiety that roils in his stomach. It feels too real to be a dream. And, compared to other dreams he’s had, there’s something more dangerous lurking in this one. A sharp chill rings against his skin as he waits for something to happen.

“Hello?” he calls, his voice meek and small in the emptiness. “Is- Is anyone there?”

For a moment, only his words echo back. They ring in his ears, thrum in his head, and after a few seconds, the sound of his own voice becomes too overwhelming. A dull ache erupts at the back of his mind and he stumbles to his knees. His fingers grapple for the sides of his head, if only to ease the pain, but it does nothing to soothe him.

“Please,” he whispers desperately, “make this stop.”

After another moment, the ringing stops. Nico’s chest heaves as he tries to calm the lingering pain.

Then a sudden brightness erupts across his vision. Nico’s eyes burn at the rapid change, and he blinks quickly to try to adjust to the light. As his sight clears, Nico reaches for the sword at his side. His skin burns with anticipation. Straightening himself, he demands, “Where am I? Who’s here?”

No body shimmers to life; no voice illuminates itself. Nevertheless, Nico senses the tingle of life in his core. He feels a presence lingering somewhere around him, lurking in the darkness.

“Invisible?” he murmurs. “That’s alright. I know you’re there.”

Because he doesn’t expect anyone to answer, surprise shocks his spine when a deep, resonating voice says in amusement, “Awfully confident in yourself for a thirteen-year-old boy, aren’t you?”

Nico whips his sword out in front of him and holds it threateningly. A grimace stretches against his lips. “Who are you? Show yourself!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the voice says. “Not yet, at least. It’s a tad too early for that.”

“Or are you just afraid of showing yourself?” hisses Nico. “Alright, coward. I can fight you even if I can’t see you.”

A deep, amused laugh bounces in the whiteness. At the sound of it, Nico’s skin prickles with rage and humiliation. How dare this voice mock him? Doesn’t it know who he is? Doesn’t it know that he could kill him?

“Oh, child,” the voice purrs, “are you always so defensive? Not every problem can be solved by fighting.”

“Then what do you want with me?” demands Nico. “Why am I here?” Despite still being anxious, the demigod lowers his sword. The scowl against his features stays fixated, though.

“Calm yourself, child of Hades,” murmurs the voice. At the sound of its words, the anxiety in Nico’s blood simmers down; a new coolness pours over him, and his eyes turn heavy-lidded. His scowl turns slack. “I’m only here to talk. No need to get worked up.”

Underneath his skin, anxious energy thurms and boils in Nico’s blood, but the sound of the voice suppresses his excitement. “Talk,” he agrees dazedly.

Though he can’t see the owner of the voice, Nico can still sense the flickering smile as it speaks once more. “I have not met someone as emotional as you in a long while,” the voice notes. “It has been a while since a mortal has attracted me with such attention.”

Nico wants to ask what it means, but when he opens his mouth to speak, only silence puffs out of his chest. He stands alone and silenced in the brightness, awaiting the presence’s next words in anticipation.

“You are an interesting case, di Angelo,” hums the voice. “So full of hatred. So full of misery. Have you met Akhlys yet? She would love you.”

“Who is Akhlys?” asks Nico, whose voice has somehow returned.

The voice laughs softly. “Oh, well, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough. But that’s unimportant right now. There’s something else I want to show you.”

A fleeting sensation overcomes Nico. His chest expands and turns icy cold as a rush of air flows in. Then, suddenly, all that oxygen cuts itself off. Something falls from his chest and slips through the thin air. Panic washes over him as he realizes something’s wrong.

He isn’t breathing. But, somehow, he’s still alive.

Nico’s hand grasps for his chest as bursts of anxiety pour over him. An empty, cold sensation billows in his chest, and he can’t help but to feel as though something has been stolen from him internally.

But he is solid. His shirt stands out in the overwhelming brightness, absorbing all the light and turning into a color darker than black - darker than even Hades’ soul.

When he looks down, though, that’s when he discovers what’s wrong.

Before him floats a red, pulsing ball. Blue and purplish-red stems hang from either side of it. For a moment, Nico swims in confusion at the sight of it. What is it?

His stomach flips over on itself when he understands.

This is no ball. This is no toy.

Nico opens his mouth to say something, but with the lack of air and his own disgust overwhelming his senses, the demigod stands there choking on his silence.

The invisible being chuckles. When it speaks once more, Nico notes the amusement still lingering, but there’s a colder, sharper ring to it. Something cruel lurks within the voice.

“Your heart,” it murmurs, almost hungrily. “That is your heart.”

Goosebumps prickle against Nico’s pale skin. Tears sting his eyes as he continues to gape at the organ in front of him.

How? he mouths. His hand grapples with his T-shirt and he tugs it away from his body. When he looks inside, pale skin gleams up at him - as well as a hole right where his heart should be. The gap in his chest seethes with hot, smoking anger.

He holds a hand over his mouth in shock and disgust. Nico’s eyes spark with fear, roil with darkness, gleam with trepidation. For the first time since he’s found himself here, pure terror envelops him.

What do you want from me? he mouths. A tear blooms in the corner of his eye and trails over his pale cheek, creating a sparkling crevice against his porcelain face. He looks like an old china doll, the kind that has seen centuries of abuse and neglect in the shadows of an attic. No longer worth anything, no longer beautiful. Only a souvenir of the past.

Though the voice remains invisible and outside of Nico’s grasp, he can still sense its merriment at the demigod’s confusion when it speaks again. “I am merely here to open your eyes, my child,” it purrs. “You are writhing in your own hatred. It’s time you face the source of that hatred.”

Silence spills into the space between Nico and the presence. Anticipation sparks against the son of Hades’ skin and scorches his throat, and he wants nothing more than to fall to his knees and let this misery end. But, by some miracle, he’s still standing upright. Perhaps the presence is keeping him up with some power. If that’s the case, Nico wishes it would stop. He just wants to spill to the white ground and lay there forever. He wants to cower in this eternal brightness, away from all that pains him.

Suddenly the whiteness around him dissipates. A wave of turquoise filters around the enclosure like water bleeding into paper, and Nico stares up in awe at the beautiful color bursting around him.

As the familiar sea-green hue bleeds into the overwhelming brightness, Nico’s body goes slack. He still stands upright, but a certain daze overwhelms his senses. The scent of salty air infiltrates his nostrils, and his blood slows its pace underneath his skin. Nico’s mind wanders higher and higher, floating above some pool of water in his head, and a new intoxication comes over him. His eyes glaze over as he gives himself up to the high sensation.

It takes a moment for him to realize why that sea-green color looks so familiar.

It’s Percy’s eye.

Percy.

The heart before Nico pulses quickly, and a harsh red color bursts across his face. Hot anger rises up his throat but, as the scene around him begins to shift again, he finds that he doesn’t want to act on this rage.

Why is this happening? he wonders. What is the point of all this?

The heart pulses again, almost insistently, as if it’s waiting for Nico to come to a realization.

And deep inside, Nico knows what it’s trying to say. But he doesn’t want to admit the truth that’s eating at him. He doesn’t want to face it.

The blue-green color dissipates, and seconds later, a new scene forms before Nico’s eyes. A slow-motion movie plays across his vision of Percy, his face determined and stony, his gorgeous eyes storming with an angry energy. The demigod’s sword slashes across a row of enemy soldiers - Skeletons, Nico realizes in shock, just like the ones we fought a few hours ago. - and with each enemy down, Percy’s skin seethes with an even stronger, even more resentful energy.

He’s an angry storm, wreaking havoc amongst those who have wronged him. He’s a beautiful tornado, whirling destruction over each path he crosses.

He’s a gorgeous disaster.

Though Nico can’t breathe, his heart twitches as if he’s just gasped.

The scene dissipates again, and one more slips into place. This one is even more astonishing, even more beautiful than the one before.

Percy’s dozing in a dark room, his body slack against the black wall. Nico recognizes it as the dungeon his father forced him into just hours ago. Guilt seizes Nico’s chest like a vice at the sight of him so weary and exhausted.

My fault, he scolds himself. It’s my fault he was like this. I betrayed his trust.

Even in the darkness, Percy’s skin glows with some kind of comforting warmth. He’s breathing and alive, beautifying all that’s around him. His chest rises up and down as he sleeps. Percy’s beautiful lips part as puffs of breath escape his chest. Dark hair whispers against his eyebrows, brushes against his eyes, but he doesn’t wake up.

Nico’s heart pulses again, but this time more painfully. An angry, yearning sensation stabs the child of Hades in the chest, and, without meaning to, he extends his arm. His pale fingers brush against the other boy’s face, and for a fleeting second, Nico almost believes he can touch Percy without shame.

But the image simply ripples where the demigod brushes his face, and with a shocking realization - as well as an angry burst of embarrassment - Nico understands that he can’t touch Percy. He can’t reach him.

The scene dissolves, and Nico bleeds into the overwhelming darkness. Salty tears sting his eyes and sizzle against his pale skin. His entire body shakes with desperation and devastation, humiliation and adoration.

Percy Jackson. Beautiful, disastrous, torturous Percy Jackson.

A painful sob builds up in his chest, but Nico knows he can’t let it out. He can’t even breathe, much less allow his grief out into the open.

Silence floods through his surroundings. His heart continues pulsing, quicker and quicker with every second that passes, mimicking his fear and desperation.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

It’s a mesmerizing scene. Nico’s never seen a heart thud so quickly before. In fact, he’s never even seen a heart so naked in front of him.

It’s disgusting. But there’s a certain beauty in it, too. It’s amazing how such an organ can shift to one’s mood so quickly.

A painful curiousness comes over him, and once again, he extends his arm out. His gentle, shaking fingertips brush against the heart. Nico jumps back at first, disgust roiling in his stomach at the contact, but, as another stroke of curiosity drowns over him, he reaches out again.

Slowly, tentatively, his soft fingers brush against the pink and red muscle. In the comfort of his cool palm, the heart continues pulsing and beating, almost as though it feels at home in Nico’s gentle embrace. A cool sensation overwhelms his system at the contact. He tightens his grip on the beating heart.

Nico has never been so close to himself before. And, honestly, it’s frightening seeing himself so naked.

The presence’s voice resonates in the emptiness again. “Well,” it murmurs, “that was interesting, wasn’t it?”

Nico says nothing. He simply stares at the muscle in his hand, which thuds against his sleeve.

“At last, you understand what I am trying to show you,” the voice continues when Nico offers no response. “Now it is time to admit it.”

Nico shakes his head. Fear trickles down his spine, chilling him down to his core. Desperation sparks in his dark, misery-filled eyes.

Don’t make me do it, he wants to say. Nico’s stomach roils at the very thought of admitting to such a confession.

“Scared?” the voice asks. “Don’t be, my child. I will help you.” Though no footsteps echo, Nico realizes the presence has lingered closer to him. A malicious aura surrounds the invisible figure as it comes closer.

“Percy Jackson,” it whispers softly. “You hate him, is that what you think?”

Nico nods, swallowing thickly.

“But, my child, you are mistaken,” the voice insists. “It is not that you hate him. No, in fact, you hate how he makes you feel.”

Nico’s lips tremble as a broken sob tries - and fails - to escape him. His body quakes as though the world around him is falling apart. Nico’s fingers press the heart tighter, if only to find something to hold on to in the destruction of his dignity.

The voice makes a disapproving cluck. “You are still holding back. Listen to me, child of Hades,” it says desperately. “The only way to move on is by admitting to your feelings first. Confess, child of Hades. Admit that you are attracted to Percy Jackson.”

Nico presses his other hand against his pale, feverish face. More tears slip through the cracks between his fingers, and his eyes bloom with hot pain.

He can’t do this. He can’t be here.

The voice speaks again, this time harsher, colder, more persistent. “Nico di Angelo, you are only subjecting yourself to more pain.” The heart in Nico’s grasp lingers closer to him, pulsing brighter and hotter in his grip. Under a control that isn’t his, the son of Hades’ fingers tighten their hold over it.

“It is up to you,” warns the voice, its tone eerily dangerous. “Either you mend your heart through my help, or you break it with your own hatred. What do you choose?”

Nico gazes at the general direction of the voice. His mind seethes with anger, with grief, with humiliation and chaos. A cacophony of voices swim across his mind, voices of people he’s loved, people’s hated, people who he has no memory of. He’s a ticking bomb, ready to destroy all that is in his path; he’s a ball of chaos, prepared to melt anyone into a puddle of insanity.

He knows he can’t see the presence. But, as his fingers tighten their control over his beating muscle, he hopes his eyes meet the invisible figure.

For a moment, all is silent. Only the sound of the thudding heart echoes in the emptiness.

Nico’s fingers press into the organ. Despite the fact that the heart is no longer in his chest, he somehow still feels the hot pain. The torturous sensation encompasses him, shocks his fingers, travels up his arms. Hot tears continue pressing against his eyes, but there’s something strange about these tears - they have a thicker consistency, a metallic scent.

They aren’t tears at all. They are tracks of blood, blooming from his eyes and traveling down his skin. The red tears trail down his cheeks, leaving cracks of crimson along his porcelain face, and drip down to his chin. A bead of red explodes over the ground.

Bleeding internally. Broken internally.

Nico’s vision swims in red. Something warm oozes from the hole in his chest, and he realizes it’s more blood. His shirt blooms with sticky warmth.

“Do not do this,” urges the voice. “You are only making the process harder.”

Nico’s teeth sink into his bottom lip as his fingers press harder, harder, until they dig into the inside of the muscle. His fingers jab through; warmth seeps through his nails. Nico’s chest aches in sympathy as the pressure envelopes him.

The voice sighs. Then it laughs coldly, murmuring, “You will not hear the last of me, my child.” The air shifts; a cold draft slithers against Nico’s back. After a moment of silence, the voice breathes in his ear, “I am Eros, the god of love. I will see you again, and next time, I will not be as lenient.”

The heart bursts.

Nico jolts awake.

#mmmm i dont know how much i like this but i was really excited to write it so. here you go #my writing #nico di angelo #riordanverse #rick riordan #nico di angelo fanfic #nico di angelo fic #trials of apollo #toa #heroes of olympus #hoo #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #riordanverse fanfic #riordanverse fic

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firerose · 3 years

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headcannons about each individual member kf the seven as dark?

So I decided to split this answer into seven seperate posts because otherwise it would be too long (I'm having to much fun wit this XD)

I'll post the first one here <3

Ok, here we go <3, Hazel: People expected her to change after Franks death She had lost her boyfriend at fourteen no one expected that to be easy So none said anything when she kneeled over his grave for five whole days and nights Reyna simply brought her food and hot chocolate and mourned with her But if they all could have had a look into Hazel's mind they could have seen the slow death of the sweet kind girl she used to be Thoughts of hate begin to burn inside her She asks herself why Juno who saved Franks stick from burning up as a baby refused to do it a second time. The question makes her storm up to Olympus, her brown eyes hard with anger Her friends are with her, Of course, they want to protect each other now that one of them has fallen Juno awaits them in her usual glory, tall with a cloak around her shoulder and .. jewellery precious metals decorating her arms and neck "Why didn't? Do you save him? Was he just a weapon you did not need anymore?!, hazel shouts out her suspicion and now people, gods and demigods alike begin to worry The queen of Olympus remains silent She sees the hatred in hazels eyes and regrets not answering her grandsons screams for help when he burned in the flames Her silence is Hazel's answer and in her growing rage the necklace on Juno's neck starts chocking the goddess Hazel does not feel remorse, only satisfaction as she hears Junos choking It is Percy's hand on her shoulder that snaps her out and Juno's necklace flys into her open hand "You will never use a demigod like that again I will make sure of that. She says and then with one last glare leaves Things are not the same when shes back at camp Jupiter Everything and everyone annoys her, reminds her of what she has lost They are around her all the time like, Leo who reminds her of Sammy, Jason who made Frank Praetor, Percy who loved Frank like a brother Whenever they talk about Frank she feels the desire to yell at them One time when Jason tries to comfort her once again she snaps "You don't have to do this just because you made Frank Praetor and you feel guilty.", Hazel tells him a bit too harshly and Jason leaves her She feels guilty so she does her best to act as grateful as possible from now on The days are very hard for her That is why she loves the night She hasn't forgotten the power rush she got on Olympus and that is why keeps practising She steals weapons from the night patrols She makes the tunnels under the field of Mars change so that they all lead to dead ends When some of the new Rome's war veterans talk about having seen lost loved ones at night Hazel pretends to not listen She just thanks Jason in her thoughts for telling her so much about the ones that fell in the titan war Hazel disappears two weeks after Frank's death The remaining five of the seven are devastated They immediately go searching for her but even after five months there is no sign of her Other demigods start whispering Even Thalia who visits Reyna often is part of those whispers She doesn't know hazel and Frank well and yet what she has heard reminds her so much of the story of a friend she had once lost He had been left alone with his fate with his insane mother just like Hazel Thalia fears that now that Hazel has lost a loved one she will seek revenge just like Luke once did. Nico and Percy are Hazel's greatest defenders They deny every rumour and says that Hazel just needs time to calm down it's the only thing that keeps them from drowning in their guilt Hazell has gone to her old home in Alaska Arion took her there It hurts to be back but here she is saved from the gods who used her and her loved ones She's so sick of being their pawn The years pass and all alone in this cold country Hazel's heart turns to ice A few old men yell insult her with racist phrases She controls the metal ankers on their ships to impale them She hears screams from her neighbour's house at night and so she breaks the metal lock to get in The man who is beating his wife only has a second to look at her before her senses reach metal and they find it......in his

blood She concentrates hand stretched out and the man chokes to death She leaves without a word There is no remorse in her, if the gods let her sweet gentle boyfriend die why isn't she allowed to kill a few bad peopöe One day she decides to return as thoughts about her past cloud her mind Someone has to show the gods that they can't treat their children like this She returns after ten years but does not show herself to her friends Maybe because she worries that they notice how much she has changed Instead, she decides to try to control the labyrinth just like Pasiphae once did The mist helps her to create new tunnels that lead wherever she wants them to go One day they lead to new Rome She just wants to look at how everyone is doing but when she sneaks near the city hidden in her magic she sees something that makes her furious Her friends have moved on She sees them celebrating with other Romans and greeks They celebrate Gea‘s defeat like it wasn‘t just a terrible unnecessary war they had to suffer through She hates that they enjoy their demigod lives They should have told the gods that they want to live normally away from both camps that endanger their lives Unfortunately, that makes her think of Frank and how he has ripped away from his life, his home country just to serve the gods Hazel feels her rage burning like an active Volcano close to erupting She walks up the hill over new Rome and looks down at the glorious city She could bury it without even trying For a moment she thinks about the lives that will cost but then again what else could make the gods notice their flaws She reaches for all the metals buried under the city She hesitates for a moment but then she thinks about Frank, his sweet smile and with a scream the earth starts shaking Buildings and temples collapse People get swallowed by big cracks in the earth There are screams horns are blowing Mist is rising and People hear voices whisper that this is god's fault They have to be punished for their mistakes It‘s like a storm of fog being thickest at the hilltop Hazel‘s old friends are filled with dread as they have seen those powers before Leo decides to fly directly into the mist together with Piper and Jason Hazel sees them approaching and a soft smile appears on her lips The mist lightens All demigods gasp Leo yells in despair He already blames himself for Franks death and now he sees that Hazel the girl he once loved has gone mad Her once curly short hair now long falls around her shoulders Her once brown eyes glow sickly golden as if the riches of the earth have taken control over her It drives him insane and so he rips out a hammer from his tool belt and attempts to attack her Hazel feels deeply hurt by this and so she moves her hands Leo is thrown of Festus's toolbelt made of metal turning out to be his curse Hazel smashes him into the ground a hundred feet under him Festus claws impale Jason and Piper before they have time to react Hazel feels a sting in her heart but she oppresses it The gods and their quest would have killed them anyway Percy and Annabeth are still in the falling city trying to get as many people out of there as possible They both try to ignore the corpses falling from the sky Percy‘s mind is still refusing that the girl he sees as a sister would do this He knows that she has to be stopped but how is he supposed to do that? He still loves her like a sister despite the lives she is taking Her real brother steps up instead Hazel can feel his presence behind her It makes her lose focus The citizens of New Rome cry in relief when the metals stop resurfacing Their city is in ruins but at least it has stopped Before Hazel can react skeleton warriors jump out of the earth restrain her by grabbing her arms She is furious about Nicos interference and struggles to escape „Hazel please it‘s not worth it just surrender and we‘ll talk about this.“, Nico says while he walks up in front of her. Hazel‘s heart breaks at the tortured look in his eyes and she realizes that she is the reason for it She disappeared She came back and murdered

hundreds She did it for Frank but she suddenly asks herself if Frank would have ever wanted to get justice in this way Would he wanted her to become hateful and obsessed with revenge just for him? As she looks into Nico‘s eyes regret strikes her „I……..I‘m sorry.“, She whispers with tears in her eyes. Nico smiles sadly happy that his little sister came to her senses He stretches out his hand to gently touch her cheek Thunder rumbles and suddenly a lightning bold explodes the hilltop right where the children of the underworld Jupiter feels nothing as he watches Percy, Reyna and Annabeth falling to their knees, sobbing and holding each other Hazel Levesque is just another demigod for him, a girl that could not get over her boyfriend Percy buries Hazel next to Frank all by himself New Rome is rebuilt with the help of the greeks The time goes by and slowly Frank and Hazel‘s names are forgotten Juno would love if they had never existed in the first place Whenever demigods speak of them they do it with anger and the queen of Olympus fears that one day a rebellion will start It's not often that their names are talked about but when they are people always refer to them as „Hazel Levesque and Frank Zhang. The couple that died in Storm and fire

#percy jackson #heroes of olympus #hoo #dark hazel #dark!seven #dark!Hazel #hazel levesque #frank zhang #leo valdez #jason grace #piper mclean #annabeth chase #thalia grace #frazel

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willgrahymn · 4 years

Text

Crushing Fear

wow can you believe I’m posting one of my fics on tumblr? me neither.

Tags: prinxiety, love confessions, some point close after FWSA, flower language, some swearing, and light angst but mostly fluff (oh and I throw shade at Janus).

Summary: Virgil didn't even remember how long he had spent repressing his dumb crush, but with Thomas falling in love, it felt harder to ignore the feelings welling up in his chest. All he knew was that he couldn't admit it out loud. Luckily for him, Roman was a romantic who couldn't stand to let a chance at love go uninvited, even if he didn't always feel deserving of it.

Word count: 3334

I’ll reblog with ao3 link since I know tumblr is dumb about it :)

There were a lot of things Virgil loved about Roman. He loved the way Roman would push back his hair whenever he caught a glimpse of himself or felt nervous and he loved the way it always fell in his face again. He loved the way his eyes lit up when Virgil asked about a show or a musical he knew the prince liked. To be honest, it was hard to think of something he didn't love. Even things he once thought were annoying had become endearing to him.

It didn’t matter. He had a reputation to at least try to maintain, he’d already gone so damn soft around the others since the light sides and Thomas came to get him back and Roman made that sweet little speech in the darkness of his room.

“You make us better.” It was like a song he played on repeat. At the time, Roman was the last person he expected to convince him that this could be his home – his family – but somehow he did. He may have been a jerk early on, but maybe, Virgil thought, he really was a knight in shining armor. Roman was more like him than he once thought; using fake confidence to cover up insecurities was nothing new.

And now, years later, here he was lying in bed like a yearning gay fool with music that wasn’t loud enough to block out his thoughts. He figured his little crush would be something that he could just hide away until it wasn’t even there. That plan was failing horribly though, especially when Roman could steal his breath by just looking at him. He didn't know how to handle feelings that felt bigger than himself.

Would it be smart to try something now? Probably not. What would he even do? Roman always talked of big, grand gestures that could literally and figuratively sweep one off their feet. Virgil didn’t consider himself good at plenty of things, and wooing someone like he was in a movie happened to be on the list. The farthest he'd gotten with confrontation was making Thomas talk to Nico, all because he couldn't stand to see Roman so heartbroken. He could feel the darkness below his eyes lighten to that embarrassingly glittery purple at the memory of how proud Roman was.

But Roman was Creativity and had his own little kingdom in the imagination. Virgil was sure that if he wanted a boyfriend he could just make the man of his dreams who would do anything and everything for him without the slightest hesitation. It seemed existence wasn’t fair like that.

He could just barely hear a knock sounding at the door, Virgil's eyes immediately darting over to where the sound had come. He debated whether or not he should respond. It wasn’t as if he didn’t like his friends, but his same old avoidant tendencies from before never went away.

“Virgil?” Roman asked. His voice making Virgil freeze and want to melt away at the same time. “Are you awake?”

Fuck, shit, some other words Patton would disapprove of. What time was it? 1:30? He couldn’t blame Roman for assuming he was still out, especially since it was the truth not too long ago. He almost felt sorry for his sleep schedule, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. No matter how hard Logan tried to help he always found himself digging through the kitchen at 5 in the morning, and not because he was an early riser. He paused his music, hanging his headphones on his headboard. Listening to Sally’s Song for the 17th time could wait for later.

He heard Roman laugh, and it felt like roses.

“That’s alright. If anyone here knows anything about beauty sleep, it’s me. The glasses gays are insisting that I awaken the beast though, so you better at least have something on before I barge in.”

Virgil wasn’t sure if Roman was talking to himself or knew he was being heard. He just burrowed deeper under his covers. He didn't want Roman to find him awake and think he was ignoring him, even if it was kind of the truth.

The door creaked. It sounded like something from a shitty horror movie. The heavy footsteps didn’t make it any more calming either. Roman was never this quiet. He refused to open his eyes, even as his blanket was pulled away from his face. He couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath as he felt cool air shock his skin.

“Awh, c’mon! I’m the actor here. Your eyes were closed too tight, for one thing,”

Virgil sighed, opening his eyes and squinting at the light. “I thought you were here to wake me up, not give me acting lessons.”

“Good morning to you too, Mourning Glory. It’s not my fault if you want to hide away all day, I’m just giving tips on being more realistic.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, biting the inside of his lip to resist smiling. Wanting to stay calm as if he knew what he was doing.

“You’ve teased me about being a vampire before. Can’t I play the part?”

“Oh, trust me, you’re perfect for the role. Sadly for you, there are two very insistent Sides saying you have to be a real functioning part of the mind, so unless you want me to carry you out there and make a whole scene, you better come down on your own.”

Virgil sighed, rolling onto his back as his eyes adjusted to the light. The two stared at each other. Testing each other. Not getting out of bed never sounded more tempting.

He gave in, rambling. “Sure, okay, whatever.” He sighed, reaching out and taking hold of Roman’s hand, letting the prince pull him upright. Whether it was he or Roman who ended up bringing them so close was something he could stay up late thinking about later. Now wasn’t the time to focus on rough palms or scarred skin that he once bandaged up while cursing out the ever-so-reckless Roman for sneaking out on quests, leaving Virgil to hunt him down with nothing but adrenaline and a certain level of knowingness in his dread.

He tried to bite back a yawn. His eyes widening at the warm feeling of a hand pressed to his face, of a thumb brushing lightly over his cheekbone. It wasn’t unwelcome, to be honest, he could probably fall back asleep just like this. He’d be okay waking up every morning if they were like this. If the romantic side offered it. If Virgil would allow himself to accept and experience it.

“How long have you been up?”

“Anywhere between 20 minutes to 2 hours. I don’t really know.”

Roman smiled, betraying the worried look in his eyes. It was probably just the effect of his room, that’s what Virgil hoped it was anyway. He tried not to show any disappointment when Roman’s hand fell to the bed.

“I’ll be down in a few,” Virgil continued, “just let me take care of my makeup first.”

Roman’s eyes trailed him as he got up and moved over towards his desk in the corner of the room, flicking on the light as he went by. Why is he fucking staring?

“While I’m here, I was wondering if you’d care to join me for a quest this evening? Or maybe we could throw a ball for the mind palace? I know it’s not your thing, but I thought it might be fun? Or y’know, something else more low-key.”

“Uh, yeah you know I’m not big on big things,” Virgil replied, looking over to the prince picking at a loose thread on the cuffs of his sleeves. “You know if you want to hang out you can just ask, you don't need some extravagant event going on to get me alone with you.”

Roman nodded, not seeming any calmer than before. Virgil's brows furrowed, worries flowed through him as if it were his blood. He didn't want to make Roman talk if he didn't want to, but god was it nerve-racking.

At the very least, it seemed like he wouldn't be putting on any more black eyeshadow to try and hide its changes.

Roman, on the other hand, decided not to question why the Side no longer seemed interested in putting his makeup on, and being grateful for the fact Virgil took advantage of the fact they could conjure themselves into different outfits rather than changing right then and there.

The two stayed there, an awkward silence taking over the room before a crash sounded from the living room.

“We should probably go.”

Virgil simply nodded, pulling his jacket tighter around as he followed Roman out of the room.

Luckily, the crash had only come from Patton knocking over a stack of DVDs, CDs, and a few other things. Another lost-glasses incident. It was a miracle nothing got broken.

The day itself would have felt completely normal if not for the fact Roman kept looking at him. Starting off as unsure as they did in his room, and slowly brightening like he had finally figured out a plothole in one of his stories. It was even more unsettling when he realized Roman was no longer there, vanished off to do god knows what.

So Virgil spent the next couple of hours trying to ignore the feeling of his fears eating him from the inside out like a moth to a sweater. He wouldn’t mind the holes if they didn’t leave him so uncomfortable. But then again, maybe that was fitting for his aesthetic. Torn-up shirts and jeans to pair with his torn-up emotions. At least he found solace in the darkness of his outfits.

It didn’t take long to get bored of the mundane mind palace.

Maybe I should take Roman up on that quest idea. He thought, his foot bounced, hanging over the side of the couch. Even if it wasn’t in his list of Shit Virgil Can Do Without Fucking Up, it was better than sitting around and waiting for nothing.

Virgil got up silently, giving a quick two-finger salute to Logan who had started reading some new detective novel before he sunk out. Appearing again before Roman’s door. Maybe he was just self-conscious, but it looked bigger than it was. Like behind it would be some hidden treasure that he finally reached.

It wasn’t entirely wrong. Roman was certainly someone to be treasured, even if he made mistakes. He just wished the other Sides would help him understand it.

He held his breath as he knocked, jolting back when it swung open almost instantly.

“You’re here!” Roman exclaimed, bouncing on his heels.

“Uh, yeah. I thought I’d take you up on your offer from earlier… if it’s still up, anyway.”

“Oh! Yeah, totally!” The prince tugged at his collar, not making eye contact. Virgil couldn’t help but smile slightly at the prince's giddiness. “I was just working on something if you’d care to see it?”

“You know I wanna see whatever you come up with, even if it’s some rewrite of Frozen.”

Roman bounced again, holding his hands out, palms up. He looked at Virgil with an emotion he couldn’t name, but it made him feel anxious in a good kind of way. Not anything like the dread he was used to. He placed his hands on Roman’s, and it wasn’t till they were sinking out and into the imagination that he realized it was the same kind of feeling from when Nico first texted Thomas about meeting up again. He held Roman’s hands a little tighter.

When he opened his eyes, they were surrounded by flowers.

“Woah…”

“Do you like it? I had to sneak into Logan’s room and borrow a few of his books.”

“I– yeah. It’s beautiful. And don’t worry, I won’t snitch.” He stepped away, wandering the circular little garden. He could only recognize so many. “Didn’t know you had a thing for landscaping.”

“I try my best. Honestly, I’m just happy neither of us has allergies.”

“Gosh, you’re such a dork.” Virgil laughed, petting the petals of a rose. Not paying attention to the way Roman watched him and shifted his weight every so often nor how warm his cheeks had become. “Do you know what any of them mean?”

“I do, but I think if I tell you, you’ll realize how predictable I am.”

“Go for it.”

“Well, roses are pretty well known. The red ones are anyway. Love, passion, romance, and courage. Things like that.” Roman said, walking closer. His boots clicking against the walkway’s pavement.

He stood close by yet just far enough for Virgil not to feel like he was being dissected under his gaze. It was an unreasonable thing to think after all the time they had spent becoming friends, he knew that. Yet part of him continued to scream that one day Roman would look at him and find out how horrible he thought himself to be and never want to be around him again. Maybe that was why he refused to confess just how much he liked Roman. It was a weight that crushed his chest every day yet made him feel dizzyingly light.

It was all too complicated.

“What about the purple ones?”

“It kind of varies by shade, but most of the time it’s about love at first sight or enchantment. A lot of the flowers here have to do with that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, should’ve been able to figure that one out myself.”

Roman shrugged. “It’s no matter, I just want to make sure you understand what they mean.” He looked to Virgil, again with that unnamed emotion. “You do get what I’m trying to say, right?”

For a moment, he hoped he did.

“Uh, yeah? Princey, I get it, you’re a hopeless romantic. You don’t have to spell it out for me.” He bit the inside of his lip, then asked. “What are they for?”

Roman looked at him with what he could only see as sympathy.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I really do think you need it spelled out.”

Virgil scoffed, going to argue before he was cut off.

“First,” Roman began, reaching for Virgil’s hand, “You take him by the hand. That’s as far as you got before we both started screaming, anyway. So I suppose I’ll just have to wing it from here. I know I haven’t always been the best to you. I know I still make mistakes, and I really don’t want this to be one of them.”

“Roman–”

“I’m not finished. Virgil, out of all the other’s, you’re always the one who notices when I’m upset. You’re always the one who lets me bitch about Deceit without saying I was wrong for trusting him and then wrong for not. Really, you’re the only one I can bitch about the dark sides to, period. Logan is so reserved about it, and Patton is, well, he’s Patton. He tries to see the good in everyone.”

Roman paused, catching his breath. Virgil thought it best not to speak. He didn’t think he’d even be able to if he wanted.

“What I’m getting is that I trust you. I trust you because you’re my best friend and you listen to what I say even if it’s dumb. Because when I don’t feel like talking you're always down to just watch classic Disney movies and fill in coloring books. I know you don't realize it, but you do a hell of a lot more good than you believe, and I love you for that. You don’t have to say it back or even feel the same, I know you’re pretty reluctant about it. I just need you to know.”

Virgil stared at him, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights of love. Roman had said ‘I love you’ before, but not like this. What the fuck do you even do when your crush confesses they like you, more so, that you aren’t obligated to like them back? Complicated, and now surreal.

“You really mean it? All of it??”

“Of course I do, my Columbine Cutie! I could never lie to someone about love, I hope you know that.” Roman replied. Waving his hand as he conjured a mix of red and purple columbines, tucking them gently behind Virgil’s ear. Both knowing it was the truth, that Roman wouldn’t subject someone to such a thing because he knew how it felt.

But he still trusted Virgil with his love all the same. Trusted that it wouldn’t be taken advantage of or used against him.

“How long have you known?”

“You know, I think I fell for you far before I knew it.”

Virgil huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I uh… I think it was the same for me. Falling for you, that is.” God, it felt so weird to say it. Good, too. “I’m sorry I don’t know what to say. I never thought I’d end up here. I care about you too. I love you, I mean.”

And Roman… Roman just started to beam, shining like the sun as Virgil tripped over his words. He bounced, hands waving as he did. Despite his lingering fear, Virgil couldn’t stop the excitement Roman radiated and the wonder of it all from seeping in under his skin, a feeling like vibrations that he could only try to shake out. And there were hands cupping his face and there were words he didn’t hear. He still knew what they asked. “Fucking yes.” was all he could bring himself to give as a response before Roman’s lips were on his.

Strawberry chapstick and the faint scent of cherry blossom perfume were all that went through his head, it was the only thing that really could. He held onto Roman’s uniform like if he let go it would all disappear. Another dream reminding him of what he thought he couldn’t have.

When Roman pulled away and Virgil opened his eyes, he was still there.

He was real. Everything that had happened was real. He couldn’t help but giggle at how fantastical it was.

Roman brushed his bangs away, just enough to fully show his eyes. “Your eyeshadow changed again,” he announced, bouncing on his heels once again. Virgil groaned, turning away. “It’s a good look for you. Especially with how much you blush, my Lavender Love.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s adorable.”

Virgil knew from the grin on Roman’s face that it had only intensified.

“Whatever. I just– for what it’s worth– I appreciate it. All of this. I’d probably die never telling you shit about how I felt if you didn’t do it first.”

Roman softened, “Maybe, or maybe you’d end up pushing yourself like you did to Thomas. Either way, I’m happy with it if you are.”

Virgil nodded, the two going silent. Roman rocked back and forth still quietly bouncing, probably thinking of what to say next.

Slowly, Virgil opened his arms, smiling nervously to his crush– lover– whatever they were. He wasn’t all that open to touch, but Roman was so far off from everything else it didn’t matter. The prince smiled, pulling Virgil close to him and pressing a kiss to his magenta-colored hair.

“I’m happy to be your knight as long as you want me to be. Whatever it is that gets thrown our way, I’ll fight for you as you have for me. You deserve to shine every day like you are now.”

“Jesus, Princey. You already made your dramatic love declaration, but... thank you. I want you to be happy too.”

The two held each other, and for the moment, everything was okay. No dark sides, no fear, no challenging life debates. It was unescapable, of course, but it didn’t matter. They could survive and fight this hell of a world. They could make the other realize how lovable they were. Because they had each other.

#Sanders Sides #Prinxiety #Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #prinxiety fic #your validation. hand it over SDLCVFH #ugh bye im gonna cry about this #Virgil's Volumes

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chironshorseass · 3 years

Note

angst number 5 for percabeth?

“What’s the point?”

Dear anon, I am sorry that I got a but carried away. Just a teeny bit.

Read on ao3.

Au in which Percy killed the Goddess of Misery, back in Tartarus.

tw: drowning, implied abuse, mental health issues, mild blood

Percy woke up drowning.

In the back of his mind, he knew that that was not possible. In the back of his mind, he could hear the running water. Water from the shower faucet.

He’s floating, maybe. In the tub.

But that’s not what was going through his mind at the moment. All he felt was breathlessness. And water. But it wasn’t the good kind. This water, cold and dark, did not want him.

No, it wanted to destroy him.

Like Misery.

He’d killed that goddess, once upon a time. Made her choke on her tears, turned her blood to dust.

The running water sounded like her, that wretched being. She was laughing at him.

He forgot why and where he was in the first place. That laugh was the only thing that was certain at the moment. And the water—with its icy breath—filled up his mouth and lungs.

Where was he in his dreams?

Hopefully not here.

His arms reached out, searching for something—anything—that could pull him out of this hell. They could’ve been nonexistent, for all the help they managed to achieve. He felt as if his own body couldn’t even move an inch. He wanted someone to save him.

Maybe you don’t deserve to be saved.

The memory gushed around Percy, resurfacing from the deepest parts of his mind—well, to be honest, it had always been there, gnawing at him.

Tartarus always came back to haunt him, one way or another.

He was there, right next to the inky abyss, surrounded on all sides by the liquid poison and its fumes. It crawled slowly but surely toward him like liquid honey. He backed away but knew it was no use. He’d die one way or another.

Annabeth screamed at Akhlys, trying to get the goddess’ attention away from him. She had the likeness of one of the corpses that Nico liked to sprout from the ground, not at all looking like that beautiful and vibrant girl he had once known.

Percy lifted his head to look at Misery, the mastermind behind it all. She grinned at him, flashing her golden fangs. Her cheeks were rivers of blood, like the blood he tasted in his mouth as he bit his tongue so he wouldn’t cry out from the sudden pain.

He glared at the poison, its small lakes pooling around him.

Lakes.

Liquid.

Maybe he was mad. But maybe he didn’t have to die right now. The ringing in his ears grew louder; Annabeth’s shouts sounded further away. But he could stop this, he had to try.

He concentrated, feeling the familiar tug in his gut. The poison paused in its tracks.

“What is this?” Ackhlyss’ voice bordered on manic.

“Poison,” Percy rasped, standing up with shaking legs. His motive, however, didn’t falter. “That’s your specialty, right?”

He watched as the toxic liquid retreated farther from him and toward Akhlyss’ feet as if she were a magnet and the poison was metal. It sizzled against her toes, and she jumped, shrieking. She swiped at it, but more came.

“You dare go against me, boy?” But as she said it, tears flooded her eyes; her knees buckled. After many futile attempts, she screeched, “Stop this!”

But he was just getting started.

Her control over her own creation was over, dominated by someone else.

The goddess shrunk into herself, tears flowing like rivers down her cheeks.

Oh, good. More water.

He had the urge to laugh. How foolish of her.

Percy concentrated, searching deeper and deeper into the root of his powers. Soon enough, he had Akhlyss choking on her own tears; it engulfed her mouth and eyes. She clutched her throat, poison burning her legs as it climbed into her as well.

He was dimly aware of Annabeth calling to him—begging, but she didn’t understand this feeling that Percy felt. This glass-shattering sensation against his stomach. How good it felt, to finally control what could never be controlled.

So he didn’t listen. Instead, he clenched his fists and kept it up. See how much misery Misery could take.

He pushed further into him, and Akhlyss’ blood boiled.

Minutes or hours or days passed before her wailing sounds and anguished cries stopped for good. The poison finally encased her entire body, and she lay on the ground, motionless. In the blink of an eye, her remains were turned to dust.

It is done.

“Percy?”

Annabeth walked up to him, taking her time. The look on her face was enough for him to stagger, clutching his stomach.

“Percy?” she whispered, now closer to him.

His name lingered in his mind, a chanting that never seemed to stop. But through the agony in his gut and Annabeth’s muffled sobs into his shirt, her expression afterwards was what haunted him most.

It is done.

Something broke inside him that day, he knew. Just like right now, when his powers and his heritage served him no purpose.

It was as if he were trapped in an eternal void. His hands, finally able to do something, clawed at his throat, willing his lungs to work.

Why can’t I breathe?

Why can’t I breathe .

He was the hero, the son of Poseidon; this wasn’t supposed to be happening.

What an ironic way to die , don’t you think?

The laughter kept invading his thoughts, ringing across his brain just as horribly as the water.

He gasped out, scouring for any oxygen he could steal.

Water.

Water in my lungs.

Had he always been drowning? Or was this a nightmare?

Perhaps he should just give up. Perhaps the water wouldn’t feel so cold if that were to happen.

But if he listened closely to the chaos, he could make out a muffled scream. Someone crying out, pronouncing his name.

Arms grabbed him by the shoulders, and suddenly he’s sitting up, leaning into someone else. Hands grasped his face, soft and tender. Sobs echoed across the room. His eyes were shut tight, but he’s sure that he’s in some kind of room.

Right, the bathroom.

The laughter stopped.

He tried to breathe again, but he found that he still couldn’t, the door of his lungs yet to unlock. Panic seized into him once more. He tried to open his eyes, but they felt like lead weights.

Annabeth. He realized now, that she’d been the one to pull him out. She was here, shaking him, crying, letting the water pour down the drain.

If I could only breathe.

He faintly registered the way she gently pushed him down, making him lie on the cool tub, now free of the water. He felt pressure on his chest. Her hands, compressing and releasing.

And then, maybe, he could breathe again. His world was still tinted in balck around the edges, though.

Annabeth had her arms wrapped around him, both of them lying on their sides in the comfort of his bed. She protected his Achilles’ spot, a habit she never could break. As much as her doing this filled Percy with ease and calmness, he knew the truth: she couldn’t protect him. Not really. His true war was with himself.

Her warmth didn’t seem to suffice, either. Or the snug pajamas that she had given him to wear.

He could still remember the bathtub’s chill, after all. And Tartarus.

Annabeth snuggled closer to him. He felt her breathing against his neck, real and alive. She threaded her fingers through his and kissed the nape of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice breaking. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. That I didn’t realize—”

“S’not your fault. I just...” A lump formed in his throat. He swallowed it down. “I don’t know why. Why was I fucking drowning, ‘Beth? Why?”

His eyes bored into the dusty bookshelf in his room, but soon his sight blurred. A tear fell down his cheek and into his mouth. It tasted like the sea. The sea that betrayed him.

“Maybe, maybe you’re just scared.”

“Like you were of me?” He shut his eyes tight. “When I killed her?”

Her curls tickled his face as she shook her head.

“No,” she whispered. “I could never be scared of you.”

“But you were. I know you, Annabeth. And I know you’re scared, even now. And the worst thing? You’re scared of me.”

“No.” Her tone took a hard edge. “I’m not scared of you. Gods you’re the person I love most in this fucked up world. Why would I be scared of you?” Her hand unclasped from his, moving it to his damp hair, combing through the dark curls. “No, I’m scared of what you could do to yourself.

“Especially when Sally’s not here, and we’re alone and I, I assume you’re fine. But I’m not even fine, so it makes no fucking sense that I didn’t try to see what was wrong earlier, and...and…” She broke down into sobs, face smothered into the crook of his neck as he lay there, unmoving. His eyelids were closed, but tears escaped them anyway.

She pressed her damp nose against his skin and took a shaky breath.

“I never…” She lifted her face and swept back some of the hair that stuck to his forehead.

He opened his eyes, and finally looked at her, craning his neck to do so. Her cheeks glistened with tears and her hair was a tangled mess, but he took in her image, gazing at her with new vision.

It hit him—that this girl would forever be his anchor, his haven. This complicated, sweet and amazing girl, with eyes akin to the storm inside him. That she was protecting him. That she wanted him to heal. She reclined on her elbows, softly caressing his exposed cheek with her thumb. Then, she leaned down and kissed his tears away.

“I never—and I thought you were going to die,” she said in a small voice. “...I never knew how powerful you could be.”

He stiffened under her touch.

“What’s the point, anyway? It’s not like my powers work anymore.”

He didn’t dare admit what he yearned to say, that he deserved every last breath of pain. That Gabe, that sorry excuse of a stepfather, had been right. That Percy would amount to nothing, and in the end, he’d end up just like that horrible man. He already felt it inside of him, settling comfortably as if reuniting with an old friend.

“But they do work, Perce.”

“How would you know?” His tone sounded accusatory, but Annabeth didn’t seem to mind. “I was drowning, just like in that prophecy. In Alaska.”

“I know you still have them, because I feel it in you. And now you’re letting it consume you instead of controlling it. What happened down there...you can’t change what you did.”

He exhaled, “I wish I was sorry.”

She didn’t respond, only settled back into him.

After a few minutes of staring at the heaps of comics and the little night light, she murmured, “You’ll be alright. We can work through this. Together. I know we can.”

He could only wish he felt the same way.

Nearing to the edge of dreams in his sleep, he felt the water once again. At first, he realized that it was the same way as in the bathtub. Darkness and cold. Jagged ice.That horrible sensation of panic and helplessness.

Images flashed through the currents. Teeth and golden eyes and blood and choking. Voices whispered to him.

Let go.

What is life, anyway?

It’s useless. That’s what life was.

The water wouldn’t let him breath, anyway, so he sunk into the depths. He was used to this. It didn’t matter.

As he drifted away, a voice came to his mind, so startling and out of place in the coldness that it felt like someone had suddenly spoken right into his ear.

Remember your lifeline, dummy.

Annabeth had said that, hadn’t she? He wasn’t so sure; he couldn’t remember much about anything.

What was it?

Anchor.

Something pulled him upright. It was a tug, coming from the small of his back. And then the darkness didn’t seem as imposing. The whispers and wailing stopped. A smile came to his mind. A face hallowed in a crown of golden hair. She was by the sea, splashing salty water with foam and laughing.

Anchor.

No, Annabeth wouldn’t want this for him; he could fight to live. He could get better. The water turned blue and warm, like drinking a mug of hot cocoa. He gasped, letting his tired lungs have what they wanted from the start.

She was right, gods, was she always right. Hiis powers still worked. And clearing his mind, he remembered the breathing methods they’d practiced, him and Annabeth.

One in, two out, three in, four out.

Up on the surface, the sun gleamed, sending golden ripples all around.

A hand appeared from the outside, cutting into the water. There was a canoe; he could see the dark silhouette. This time, his limbs moved with ease.

One in, two out, three in, four out.

The currents guided him up, up into the world. When he drew nearer to the person on the other side, he looked up, only to be blinded by the sun. But movement from above blocked the light like an eclipse.

Annabeth.

Always Annabeth.

She beamed, seemingly annoyed and amused at the same time, her yankees cap tucked over her hair. Her arm extended toward him, and she laughed. The echoes rippled even in the water.

“Hold on, Seaweed Brain. You’re not getting away from me that easily.”

He felt it now. It wasn’t the currents moving him toward the sound of her voice, but a cord. A single golden thread.

“Come on. Take my hand.”

And so he did.

#percy jackson fanfiction #pjo fic #percabeth fic #percabeth #writing prompt #angst #hurt/comfort #suicidal thoughts tw #blood tw #drowning tw #dark!percy #powerful percy jackson #I cant help it sorry #look mom i can write

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thedarkestcrew · 3 years

Text

Nico and Ruby being pals because why not part 1

For all their wonderful ideas; @east-river-burned and @thedarkestminds i love them and didn't realize there were so many active TDM accounts! go follow them, amazing

part 2

Ruby's main drive for the Thurmond attack was she felt like she left a bunch of kids behind when the league took her out in TDM. I believe that Nico has the same guilt and feels like the other kids would have benefited a lot more from being "outside" and maybe he deserves to be in camp rather than being a useless green.

One night Ruby is talking about this to him and he starts sobbing because he's so relived that he's not alone and that he has someone he can talk to. Ruby and her new found need to help everyone instantly starts comforting him and stops pushing him away

Ruby tells Nico that its okay. that nothing is his fault either with Jude. he absolutely breaks down because yes they're family but some times its good to hear it after being abandoned by everyone that loved him - Jude, parents, Clancy, Cate left, Vida didn't make a real effort to be his friend. it just feels nice to know he matters to someone after his only friends died (Jude and Blake)

have you seen how Ruby and Nico are just comfy being (Low key) depressed together in ITA when the finally talked about Jude. That's the supportive energy I need in my life

also they've been through so much together

1. They were both manipulated by the same person that they thought loved them

2.Both Thurmond freak kiddies

3. Loved Jude and had to loose him and both thought of it as their fault

the way they'll just get a night mare about Clancy, camp, Jude, you name it and just call each other to deal is great

you know those two nerds just hang out listening to music and full out sobbing but also dancing around like maniacs( just flailing their arms around bc these two gawky teens cant dance to save their lives)or they'll be regular sobbing on the floor and Vida will throw blankets at them to “muffle the sound”

Ruby’s parents or Cate calling Liam and is like " uh hey Ruby and Nico and singing along to " Drivers License" and crying... are you and Ruby good?" que Liam freaking out thinking Ruby is going to break up with him

omg Cate she’ll come home too many times to them crying on the floor or something and feels obligated to get water so they don't dehydrate themselves

No one can convince me Nico doesn't go into 3 am depression bakes till cate wakes up to 90 brownies and drags him back to bed and then he ships a bunch to Ruby in the morning

She gets so exited when she hears the mailman come because it's either Liam sending letters to be cute, or Nico's famous shortcake

Ruby being frustrated with the government sometimes and Nico is like " you know what, pardon my French but SCEW them. I'm going to hack into that politician's computer and make the WIFI connection really bad! That'll show them!"

she knows it wont do anything major but she appreciates that someone she considers family wound do something like that for her even if it risks him getting in trouble

MOVIE NIGHTS

like the saddest movie marathons

need to have water bottles on stand by or they'll get light headed

Vida walking in and saying they look like miserable slugs whos mother died, but getting them popcorn none the less

Zu comes in with chubs and they join in because government people know how to drain the life out of you

poor cate has to come home to 5 of her kids sobbing on the floor throwing popcorn at her tv... she slowly backs out

sometimes after a nightmare about Clancy or Camp or Jude they'll call the other and become quite support for the other because ya, Liam and Vida are amazing friends but sometimes the “we can talk about it and ill try to make you happy “ and “lets go hit the gym for relief” attitude isn't what they need

also their sleep schedules are so messed up Nico will be fully awake at 3 am coding and Ruby will just decide to rearrange her room because the bed is not in the command position and it makes her nervous so great times to call the other

Maybe they'd both talk about Clancy and get some closure about being used. Like I know Ruby took the high road at the end of ita but before than she'd start shaking when she heard his name after he verbally (and sexually) abused her. He's the main reason she can't trust anyone. (before coming to east river she was beginning to get close with lee but than CLANCY got in the way and made her take like 3 steps back.) Maybe she has some doubts about taking the high road but Nico talks to her and shares some good memories of him so she feels like she DID do the right thing and didn't just give a monster a perfect life and allowed him to be happy when he was the reason that Cole died

also ruby feeling horrible and blaming herself for Cole like “I should have known Clancy was in my head. I could have been better. I Should have been better instead of allowed my self to be manipulated and now Cole … Cole is dead because I was too weak..” Nico will take absolutely none of that because he’s seen Clancy use his abilities and understands that no one can over come something like that and that she should stop sulking and instead get better control of her powers so it never happens again

maybe they are in this odd middle space that is being in a camp (seeing all those horrible things and all agreeing not to talk about it hoping those memories will go away) as well as seeing the outside world and discovering it's not much better. Like even just at the league avoided them because they were freaks and also because they were broken/depressed/bummers from camp; like I'm sorry, YOU try going through years of torture, not trusting, not talking, not being able to sleeping safely, not touch anyone and see how YOU turn out! YA Not very cuddly huh?!!

Ruby telling him things like “you are incredible” or “you’re the best” like she did with Zu and him at Walmart and the ranch. He will blush like crazy because you know she means it \

(side not but her doing this with the haven kids because their bio parents never said it to them AHH)

Days where Ruby needs to drag Nico away from the computer and just chill are a must. Probably a beach or a park or ice skating and just know that the other is with them and that everything is going to be okay. It also gives them some closure to know that the world CAN be calm, they just need to know where to look, and sometimes that's in each other.

(I’ll do a part two of them just being pals that's less depressing but i love their duo and I've never heard anyone talk about Nico like.., ever)

#The darkest minds #nico Conner #Nico #green #orange #tdm #darkest minds #Rubiam #Ruby #thurmond #ruby daly #liam stewart #liam #charles #chubs #chubs meriwether #Jude

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writingpaperghost · 3 years

Text

There is a Me Who Can Become Strong (Chapter 1)

Emu liked working at Seito University Hospital, intern or not. Sure, his coworkers at the CR were a bit… interesting, but not in the bad way. Saki was, overall, pretty nice, even if she could sometimes get really stern. The director was a bit silly, but still took his job seriously. Technically, Nico didn’t work with the CR, and she was often a bit much. Same with Taiga, who was really set on getting the Gashats, for some reason. Kiriya had a bit of a skill for getting into Emu’s personal space, but it wasn’t too bad.

Everything seemed to have been going well, but with the sudden increase of Game Disease cases, it becomes clear something is happening. Unfortunately for Emu, the past doesn’t stay in the past.

My newest project, that struck me like a lightning bolt and made me go, "Huh, that's actually a great idea". Now, you may be asking, "Are you really going to rewrite all of Ex-Aid"? The answer is: Yeah, probably.

It gets angsty, unsurprisingly.

Chapter 1: I'm a Kamen Rider!

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32857183/chapters/81535450

Emu liked working at Seito University Hospital. He liked the people – the nurses were kind and liked him – he liked seeing the children smile when he’d send them back to their parents (unbidden, he’s often reminded of the words that changed Emu’s life). During his breaks, he’d help entertain the children, by playing games for them. He was really good at video games (in the past, Emu Hojo was Genius Gamer M. It’s been a while since he’d been, but now he was something just as important, Doctor Emu, even if he was still just an intern). The pediatrics ward had become like a second home to him.

---

Two figures stand on a rooftop, looking out at the city.

One had messy light brown hair, which held the appearance that there had, at some point, been an attempt to comb it. His attire was probably the most interesting part about him. He wore a reddish brown jacket, the shirt underneath having one sleeve of a similar color, the right sleeve a green color, and the rest being greyish green in color. He had a necklace of fangs around his neck.

Beside him, stands the other man, wearing a hoodie, clearly inspired by Mighty, the mascot of the up and coming game from Gemn Corporation, Mighty Action X. It was pink, like Mighty, and as he had the hood up, one could see the spikes of hair, just like Mighty’s. Beneath, he wore a Mighty Action X shirt, which had Mighty and his hammer printed on it. Notably, he wore bright pants, cyan with orange stripes, his whole outfit being leagues brighter than his companion’s. His face is obscured by his long bangs and the hood of the coat, but one can make out the faint glow of red from where his left eye, the one unhidden by his bangs, is.

“I can’t believe they finally let you out,” The first of the two said, sounding terribly unamused regardless.

The one in the Mighty hoodie responded in a slightly joyful tone, though subdued, “He said that they thought I had enough control that I could stay calm.”

The first scoffs, “Sure,” He said, “Well, it sounds like today will be big, anyway.”

“Big?” The second asks, “I wonder what they have planned?”

“I guess we’ll find out,”

---

Unfortunately, Emu was a bit clumsy – he tried his best but it was just so easy to catch your foot on even the smallest of things! This clumsiness usually only affected him but sometimes… Well sometimes, he ended up with a towel thrown in his face thanks to his patient. He’s not sure why, but Sota had thrown it and used it as a distraction to run away. Emu, to his credit, got the towel off his face and gave it to the nurse, rushing off after him.

He follows Sota out of the hospital and through the nearby parts of the city. Unfortunately, either his luck or his coordination ran out, and his foot finds a cart, for moving big boxes. Then he goes on an un-asked for rollercoaster ride down the hill, where he can see but a single person at the end. He found himself instead wondering who’s Rollercoaster Tycoon ride he’d wandered into – no, no, focus! The woman!

He crashes into the suited woman, sending her briefcase flying into the street. Scrambling up, Emu frantically apologizes, “Sorry! I tripped! Sort of!”

The woman sighed, “Pay better attention,” She scolded, then stood, going to pick up the contents of the briefcase, which had been opened by its fall. Emu stands and looks around, ignoring the strange device in the briefcase in favor of looking for Sota. He had to be somewhere…

He sees Sota, standing with something in his hands. It’s pink, shaped a bit like some kind of cartridge. He thinks, in the back of his mind, that it looks familiar, but he doesn’t focus on it much. He runs over, “Sota!”

Sota turns to look at him, and Emu realizes he’s caught the attention of the woman too. “I want to play it,” Sota said, looking between the two of them and the cartridge. Emu squints, able to make out the logo on the cartridge. Mighty Action X, Gemn Corporation’s new game, which was to be released today. Emu had been looking forward to it, planning to pick up a copy after he was done at the hospital today. But why did this woman have this strange cartridge with her.

The woman’s lips settle into a stern expression, “I’m sorry, but you can’t play that.” Reluctantly, Sota allows her to take the cartridge away, but there’s something in his eyes that hurts Emu. He knows it’s not really the woman’s fault, but for some reason, Sota must really want to play Mighty Action X.

Yet, only a few moments after the woman took the cartridge, Sota collapses, some kind of orange bubbles briefly appearing in his neck. Something about it bugs Emu greatly, like a nagging sensation in some part of him. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t just that Sota had collapsed.

The woman’s reaction was telling enough, whatever this was, she knew. Together, he helps her take Sota back to Seito, down into some underground rooms, which Emu didn’t even think existed. He wants to follow the woman with Sota through the room, but he’s stopped by a man he quickly recognized as the hospital director. “Please just leave and forget about this,” the director had said. He hadn’t seen the man much, but even Emu knew what he looked like. It made sense that the director knew about whatever this place was, but somehow actually seeing him was startling. Then, the director entered the room, leaving Emu standing outside of it.

Something in him wasn’t letting him leave, though. He can’t help but recall the expression on Sota’s face when he held the cartridge, excitement, and then how it fell when the woman, he knew her now as Nurse Asuna, took the cartridge. Recalling the words he’d chosen to live by, Emu had made up his mind. He’d go and he’d help Sota, even if it was just something small. He may not be able to cure whatever disease he had, but he could make him smile. (A part of him was still trying to knock the nagging feeling.)

Luckily, neither the director nor Asuna must have been used to having other people in this area, as they hadn’t locked the door. That meant Emu could easily slip into the rooms that belonged to the part of the hospital known as the Cyber Rescue Center.

---

The director is sitting at the table in the upper room of the CR when he informs Asuna, “Saki will be here tomorrow,” He says, “She’s a perfect fit, I know Director Hinata agreed it would be good to find this Genius Gamer M, but would bringing someone who might not even be familiar with Game Disease truly a good idea?”

Asuna huffs, “Of course, Game Disease is connected to games,” She looks at him, “Who else would be suited to fight it than a genius gamer?”

“But how are you going to find him?”

“I bet I’ll find him at the Mighty Action X launch party, it’s no secret that he’s a fan of Gemn’s games.” Asuna informs him, picking up the briefcase with the Gamer Driver and Mighty Action X Gashat. “I’m going to go find him.”

With that, Asuna leaves the CR, determined to find someone who had barely appeared in the gaming world for six years.

---

It wasn’t hard for Emu to find the patient room, it was right across from the entrance. “Sota?” He called, seeing the small form in the patient’s bed. “It’s me, Emu, you doctor from earlier.”

“What do you want?” The boy asked in a sour tone.

Emu walks over and pulls a chair up to the bed, sitting down at Sota’s side. “Why did you run away earlier?”

“It’s none of your business,” Despite his protest, Emu can’t help but wonder…

“Do you like video games?” Emu asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Yeah,” Sota responded weakly, pulling out a Mighty keychain. “I was really excited for Mighty Action X…”

“The launch party is today,” Emu notes, “Did you want to go? Is that why you ran off.” Sota doesn’t verbally answer but nods regardless. It’s then that Emu had his idea, as crazy and questionable as it was.

Emu wastes no time in telling Sota his plan, “How about we go? You can play Mighty Action X,” He said, “After all, it doesn’t matter if you’ve been cured or not if you don’t smile.”

Sota lit up at the idea and Emu put his plan into motion. No one seemed to notice that he and Sota left, something that bugged him, but he was thankful for. They make their way to the launch party. There were a lot of people, which perhaps a few years ago would have made him greatly uncomfortable, but now didn’t bother him at all. Sota seemed so excited as they waited in line so he could play Mighty Action X (there was a pang of jealousy, but he could wait until later today, like he initially planned. In the past, maybe Emu would have cleared his schedule to go to a launch party for a Gemn Corp. game. He’d done it before, but now he just couldn’t. He was busy now, he had more than just game).

All was going well until…

“You!” It was Nurse Asuna. Emu feared her wrath for bringing Sota here ever so slightly, but he was certain that this was the solution. “And Sota! Why did you bring him here? How?”

“It was the stress from missing the game’s release,” Emu quickly explained, “I think that’s why he suddenly got sick. When you’re stressed, it’s harder for your immune system to fight off sickness. Bringing him here should cure his sickness and make him smile.”

Asuna did not look pleased with that explanation, “His sickness isn’t so simple,” She reaches and grabs Sota’s hand, “Come on Sota, we’re heading back to the hospital.”

That strange feeling returned as Sota yelled, “No! It’s almost my turn!”

“Please,” Emu begged, “Just a little longer than he can go back,” He didn’t want a scene to be made, nor did he want Sota to get so stressed. The strange feeling was growing.

“We need to go now,” Asuna continued to tug at Sota. At least, until Sota started glitching and those strange orange bubbles from before to appear again and began to grow. Soon they took the form of some kind of monster. Now, the strange feeling was stronger than ever.

Emu’s not sure what to say, at first, before he finds himself saying, “What’s that?”

Asuna answers, “A Bugster,” she says, “A manifestation of his Game Disease, which is a computer virus that can effect humans.” There’s a lot there in that simple statement, but Emu chooses to just file it away for further scrutiny later.

“What can we do to help him?” He was still Sota’s doctor, he still needed to see Sota smile.

Hesitantly, Asuna opens the briefcase, revealing the device and cartridge once more, responding, “These could fight the Bugster and save him,” She says, watching as Emu raises his hand and comes close to the device, “But only if you can use them.”

Looking at the strange device and cartridge, Emu supposed there was only one way to find out. He takes them, placing the device - a belt of some kind - around his waist and clicked the button on the cartridge. He places it in the slot on the belt and -

Error

He pulls it out, clicks again and puts it back in.

Error

Damn.

His mind flashed to Sota. Device or no, he’d that boy one way or another. He’d see Sota smile.

He takes the belt off, pulling the cartridge out and hands them to Asuna, though the cartridge doesn’t end up leaving his hand.

With his free hand, he lunges forward, reaching towards the monster and grasps. “I’ll change Sota’s fate with my own hands!” He means every word. If no one can help Sota, then Emu will. As he grabs at the monster, his hand and the part of the monster he’d grabbed were glitching. Then, the monster changed. Now it looked like… Salty? From Mighty Action X?

His hand tightens around the cartridge and he accidentally pressed the button once more.

Mighty Action X!

Let’s game! Metcha game! Mucha game! What’s your name? I’m a Kamen Rider!

Around him, a wheel of portraits appears, like a player select screen. He can’t make out the features on most of them, but picked the one that lit up, in front of him.

Level up! Mighty jump! Mighty kick! Mighty-Mighty Action X!

Around Emu, red and blue armor forms, and in his hand appears some weird combination of a gun and an axe. He still held the cartridge in his other hand.

Behind him, Asuna gasps.

Placing the cartridge into the holding slot at his side, he runs towards Salty, slashing with his axe. Salty, seemingly startled still by his existence, further startled by Emu’s transformation, doesn’t have much time to try to dodge. He follows his slash up with a kick, knocking Salty back slightly. Once he’s knocked Salty back, a bunch of strange grunts dressed in chef uniforms appeared.

“Some low level grunts?” Emu wonders, “Well, that’s not too bad.”

He breaks one of the blocks that had spawned when he used the cartridge. A token appears, with the image of a person running quickly. Emu grabs it and feels the power rush through his body, able to run quicky and cut down the grunts. “And powerups too!”

Now it was just Emu and Salty, staring each other down. He quickly switches his weapon to gun mode, shooting at Salty, “The one who’ll cure Sota will be me, Genius Gamer M!” While Salty was stunned, he switched his weapon back to axe mode, breaking a block for a power up, grabbing it and realizing it was a strength enhancement.

He hits Salty a few more times, before jumping back and taking ahold of the cartridge, blowing on it, then placing it into the slot on his weapon.

Mighty Critical Strike!

Running at Salty, he slashes his axe and the power with it. Salty took the hit and was defeated.

Game Clear!

Pulling the cartridge out of his weapon, the armor around Emu remains for a moment, before it disappeared. He sees where Salty had been, now Sota laid on the ground. He runs over, not thinking much at the moment about what happened.

“Sota, are you alright?”

Sota looks up at him and seems happier than ever, “Yes,” He said, then he smiled at Emu, “Thank you, doctor.”

“You’re welcome,” Emu smiled back, “I’m glad you’re happy now,”

---

A teenaged girl is holding up her phone, looking at the screen, the camera zoomed in on the screen. She has long black hair, with a galaxy baseball cap on her head. Her jacket is red and her backpack pink, beneath she wears a shirt for a different Gemn Corp game, Bang Bang Shooting.

It seems she saw the fight between Emu and Salty and had saw what had happened at the launch party. She brings her camera down and frowns.

“That’s him, alright,”

---

A man with a red jacket, ripped capri jeans, and an ugly floral patterned shirt with sunglasses hooked on it wandered the area where the Mighty Action X launch party had been held. He looked around, interested.

“So,” He said, “The game’s begun.”

---

A woman with brown hair held back in a bun, wearing light blue blouse and black slacks sits in the back of a car. Beside her, sits a Gamer Driver. She frowns at her phone as it rings and rings.

Finally, she sighed, “He’s probably busy,” She nods to herself a quietly says, “I’ll just have to surprise him tomorrow.”

---

“This,” Asuna says, gesturing to the CR, “Is the CR. It’s a department dedicated to fighting Bugsters and Game Disease.”

She spins and in a flash of colors and music notes changes her clothes, her hair now a pink bob, and her clothing all yellow and green. “I’m Poppy Pipopapo,” She says, “But outside the CR you call me Asuna.”

“How?” Emu wondered, unable to help but think aloud.

“Oh, well I’m also a Bugster,” She said, “We Bugsters can change parts of our appearance, like hair and clothing.”

He nods in response, “I see…”

“Anyway,” Poppy says, “There are ten strains of Game Disease, corresponding to ten games. The one you fought today was of the Mighty Action X strain. To stop Game Disease, we need to clear all ten of them.”

Emu looks at the games displayed on the screen. He recognized all of them, but at least one hadn’t even been released. He hummed to himself, “Well, I think I’m pretty well suited for the job.”

Poppy nods in agreement, “You’re not just Genius Gamer M,” She cheered, “But also an intern here at the hospital!” Emu can’t help but laugh a little at her enthusiasm.

If there were two things that Emu thought he was good at, it was video games and making his patients smile. He’d clear those games with no continues, that was his new goal now. (Something in the back of his head wanted to analyze all the information he got today with a fine-tooth comb. There were definitely some answers in all of it. He just wished they pointed to something a little different.)

#kamen rider #kamen rider exaid #emu hojo #poppy pipopapo #asuna karino #my writing #there is a me who can become strong

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nicotinemaiden · 3 years

Text

My mistake

And if I knew the words that you sold me Covered up the truth you've been holding I would learn to let you go Before we travelled down this road Now all I have is ignorance to blame But I guess that was my mistake

[Nico Collins]

Read on AO3 →

The first time was a mistake.

At least that was what she kept telling herself the morning after when the influence of the alcohol had disappeared completely from her body and all the memories of the night before returned to her. They were still a bit hazy, clearing slowly with every passing second.

To her side the bare back of a well-known friend rested against her, the shadows the waking sun projected over it emphasizing his muscles and the scars that were there before she could do anything for them. She found the urge of touching them - again, her mind reminded her - and buried it inside, far away from her current thoughts.

Her breath was nowhere to be found, lost someplace between her naked body and the lips of the man beside her. Her heart raced to a pace she wondered if it was healthful, if it wasn't the first time it had done that. Turns out, it definitely wasn't. Last night was just her most recent example but… she remembered this sensation from almost every time Obi was closer than usual. Her heart trying to escape, she told Yuzuri once. To be with whom it really belonged, she answered, a knowingly smile on her lips. She didn't understand it then and now, even having a subtle idea of what was her friend referring to, was definitely not the time to be thinking about it. She had enough on her hands for the moment.

Her hands, unbuttoning his shirt with the care she would put mending his wounds. Her hands, entangling themselves on his hair as if it was the rope from which her life hanged. Her hands, wandering to places of his body that were forbidden for most people, caressing them and stroking them and -

She forced herself to the present, trying her best to calm the excessive beating of her heart and failing miserably. The weight of what she had done, what they’d done, hit her hard, a lot harder than she expected. The guilt crawled up her throat so forcefully she had to fight in order to stop herself from throwing up.

"Miss, you're drunk."

His voice was low in her ears, his lips almost touching hers. She just wanted to shut him up and feel the burning of his kisses again, the way his hand gripped her right tight, lifting up her dress, distracting her from what he was saying. It wasn't a question, she processed later, but she had already answered.

"Yes."

She went to kiss him again but he retreated just a bit, enough to be out of her reach.

"I'm drunk."

That wasn't a question either, but she answered anyway.

"Yes."

She looked at his eyes and then she understood. He thought this was only the alcohol talking, not herself. He thought she was just in a… playful mood. But that was far, oh so far, from the truth. She'd wanted him for so long she didn't even remember when was the first time her thoughts wandered to him in that particular manner.

But she wasn't just thinking about sex. She was attracted to him, that much she knew - and if she was having any doubts the first of their kisses melted them all away - but it was something more. It wasn't love, she loved Zen, she knew how that felt… did she not? Zen. She hadn't… She hadn't remembered him until now and… she didn't want to remember him. Not here, not now, not being with Obi. He was consuming her entire world and… she was honest when she told herself she wouldn't want to be anywhere else, nor with anyone else. So she added, clarifying her thoughts to him in a small sentence.

"And that doesn't make me want you any less."

She forced herself up with one arm, kissing him slowly, lovingly, the way a wife would kiss her husband, clearly not a lover's kiss. And he smiled against her lips, warming her heart even more.

Her head ached as if she had just been banging it against the wall all night long. She brought her hand to her temple, wanting the cool of it to help whatever little it could. She needed to get out of this room - their room, she remembered herself, leaving little places in this unknown palace to run off to.

She was going to kill Hisame. This was all his fault, his and his stupid ideas. Fake dating, yes, of course, they could do that, it seemed simple enough.

Until it wasn't.

It was hard enough sharing a room with him - He insisted on sleeping on the floor most of the nights unless she practically forced him onto the bed, afraid all she would find of her knight the next morning was an ice cube - but the subtle touches, the long stares, his proximity when he slid his arm down her waist, bringing her to him, so close she thought she would kiss him if he wasn't so quick to flee her side once the show was over.

That's all it was: A show. A show for the people of this cold place, an entertainment for Hisame and torture for herself. She asked her knight once his thoughts about their new situation and he just dismissed the question with a flirtatious response and a smile. It was so Obi she just left it there, thinking he wasn't against the idea. She wondered what he would say now that their relationship was a lot less fake than they anticipated.

She was still clinging to his neck, her hands completely still, too afraid to make a sudden movement lest he decided it was time to do rounds or to eat something, or to go to the bathroom. It wasn't the first time they've been in this situation, their hug loose enough for them to look each other in the eyes, forgetting what drove them to be this way in the first place. She spoke softly, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Tell me, Obi, what would you do if I…" She trailed off, seeing his confused look, and decided it was best to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission. She'll have to thank the alcohol later because without it she would never have had the courage to do it.

She lifted herself up her toes and brought her lips to his. It was just a soft kiss, so short she believed she imagined it, but she could still feel the softness of his lips so she kept her eyes closed for a moment. How something so little, so innocent, could awaken so much in her was beyond her comprehension. She felt flashes of lightning all through her body, from top to bottom, making it difficult to feel bad about it. She just… kissed him. Without asking if he wanted it as bad as her.

She opened her eyes ashamed, thinking she would find rejection in the ones that mirrored her own. Expecting to hear a soft joke and a laugh, maybe some excuse as to why he suddenly needed to be out of there. But he was looking at her with such intensity, such lust, his golden eyes a shade darker, a mixture of emotions under the obvious ones that she couldn't really place.

She stared back, realizing she felt like a prey under his gaze, as if she had just awoken a beast. But she wasn't intimidated by it… On the contrary, all of her was screaming to let herself be eaten. And that… that she could do.

Shirayuki wasn't sure who moved first, it didn't really matter. In a moment her fingers were playing with his hair - meddling with it, uninvited but not unwelcome - while her lips opened to him, letting his experience guide her. His hands were her anchor, the pressure of them - one on her waist and the other in the lower part of her back - the only thing keeping her from flying. She was a woman of science, she knew she would most likely fall instead of fly if he released her, but she felt so light. If only she didn't feel like she was burning and he was the cool water and the raging fire at the same time.

She could feel her legs shaking under the mattress. She had heard her knight before, talking about how he knew how to light a candle in women. She never doubted it, she felt it herself more than once, but this… She was screwed because what she was feeling wasn't a candle, oh no, it was an entire forest set ablaze. A fire so tall, so wide, so hot she lost herself burning on it and, now, hours later, all that remained of her were ashes.

She forced herself up, still shocked at the lack of clothes on her body, and moved to the closet as silently as she could. She needed him to stay asleep, she wasn't ready to talk to him. Or to look at him. Or… anything, really. She just needed a bath, a walk through the gardens, maybe even shut herself in the library. He would find her, he always did, but later was better in this situation.

She tripped over her dress, the one she was wearing last night, and picked it up carefully, ready to leave it on one of the chairs until the maid came to pick it up for laundry. The soft green and black fabric practically slid through her arms before she could put it down.

Her dress was loose and it fell subtly over her breasts. He took his time lowering it, planting kisses on her neck and shoulders, biting them before reclaiming her mouth to his. She got lost on his kisses until she noticed the cold air on her chest and she breathed, waiting for his reaction. He was the first man to see her like this and she wouldn’t have wanted anyone else, not with the look he was giving her.

Under his eyes, she felt made for him, as if she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, as if he never could look at someone the way he was looking at her. As if she was his woman.

She got up, missing immediately his touch, and undressed completely, letting her dress fall on the floor. The only thing left on her was her green underwear. She didn’t miss the look on the golden eyes before her while she lowered her dress. She felt she could do anything in the world and that’s why she did it. She was embarrassed, yes, but those feelings disappeared completely every time he looked at her, leaving only the colour of her cheeks.

He got up after her, one step after the other, so slowly she was about to jump at him. One of his arms hugged her waist, making her react in time to hug his neck. After a moment she felt her hair fall free on her shoulders - sometimes she almost forgot how long it was again.

As if she was a work of art in a museum he studied her, smiling, for almost a minute. Then he resumed his pace from before, kissing her shoulders, her neck, her chest…

The bath was cold, left there from the night before when neither of them found it necessary. Now she was really grateful for the sudden change of temperature even if her body was against it. It started trembling and she wasn't sure if it was because of the bath until she felt her eyes sting and her cheeks soaking. She hugged her knees with her arms and buried her face there, unable to stop her crying. She knew why… or so she thought. All the things she fought for, all the friends waiting for her… she just destroyed them all. Last night everything was crystal clear to her. It still was. But… it should have been different. She should have talked to Zen before, she should have told him that she won't be waiting for him anymore, that she simply… didn't feel the same. She hasn't since a lot of time ago. It would have been easier than going to him and saying 'Hey I slept with Obi and I realized I've been in love with him for a long time. I hope we can still be friends?'. She cried louder, hitting herself in the process. She just realized the truth of her words.

She loved him. She loved him so much she gifted herself to him without thinking about the consequences, about the damage she would do to the rest of the people in her life, including him. They… they could tear him apart from her. They could exile him from Clarines, from Lyrias. Relieve him from his duties with the kingdom. Would he leave then? Would he leave her alone, denied of her friends, of the man she truly loved? Or would he be willing to take her with him? Did he even felt the same? She didn't ask. She didn't… she didn't even tell him. Not once. She didn't even know until now, until all the pieces clicked on her head. She sniffled again. It had been a mistake.

And with that, she realized, she lied to him too.

She moved to kiss him again but he moved quicker, keeping her away. For a moment she was hurt but the look in his eyes only told her that he was not done talking.

“Shirayuki, listen to me. You may be able to live knowing you made this mistake here with me but I won’t.”

He spoke lightly, softly, like hearing a caress. The first time she heard her name from his voice and it was… beautiful. She never thought she would like her name more than coming from his lips. She needed to hear it again, every day, every hour, every minute even if it was whispered like that. She couldn't help but be quiet, waiting. Then he smiled, cupping her face with one hand and kissing her the same way his words had spoken to her. She got the feeling there were too many things she wouldn't get to hear tonight, not in words at least.

“I don’t want this to be a mistake. I don’t want us to be a mistake.”

The warm that invaded her felt odd. It wasn’t a normal warmth, it was sad, hurtful. How could he be a mistake for her? He was precious, the most precious person she had. He was always by her side, understanding her without words, making her laugh, giving her time when she needed it and lending an ear to her when she had too much going on in her mind. She could be anywhere, go anywhere, if he was with her. He allowed her to be, without masks, without politics, without a false respect.

Her heart pressed on her chest, drowning her. She felt guilty for making him think like that yet she forgot the reason behind his words. Why would this be a mistake? She didn’t know nor wanted to. It was right, it felt right. She forgot to think past that.

“Obi. This will never be a mistake. You will never be a mistake. Ever. Whatever happens tonight or the rest of my life.”

Everything hurt. From her body to her brain, but most of all, her heart. She needed to tell him. She needed him to know that, even if at this moment everything else felt wrong the only thing that didn't was him. And the night she spent with him. The years she spent with him. She would find a solution, with or without him, and she would accept his answer, even if that meant he would go again, feeling his freedom crushed by her feelings. She would accept it. But she needed him to know. Yes, it had been a mistake but not because she didn't want it, not because she didn't want him, needed him, but because she felt guilty for hurting Zen and the people who fought for them. It was simply a matter of timing.

She put on a towel after washing her face, a smile creeping on her mouth. He always understood her, she knew this time would be the same. She was lucky, so lucky to have fallen in love with him. Suddenly she needed him to know, as soon as possible.

Barefoot and with only the towel to cover her she ran to the door, opening it with more strength than was necessary, still smiling.

Her smile faltered quickly, disappearing almost immediately after finding the room empty, the bloodied sheets they left on the floor - the only proof she had that any of this had been real - nowhere to be found.

She let herself fall to the floor, her knees suddenly touching the carpet, startling her. Of course... How would she feel if she had awakened to hear Obi crying in the bathroom after what they'd done? She was so, so utterly stupid she wanted to cry again.

This was her punishment, she was sure of it. Whatever force of nature or destiny or any shit like that that was messing with her. She was tired. Tired of thinking, of crying, and of realizing things too little too late.

She wanted to go find him, to explain all that her mind explained to her minutes ago, but she knew she couldn't. Not if he didn't want to be found.

So Shirayuki crawled into the bed again, hugging the pillow that had belonged to her best friend, and hoped that the fact that she returned to sleep with her hair soaking would hide her tears.

#i hope you like it!#italic are memories in case anyone is confused #thank you for reading!!<3 #mistakeseries1 #infinitesongsforhersmile #mistakeseries #fanfic #obiyuki #ans #Akagami no Shirayukihime #Obi x Shirayuki #mywork

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tomeandflickcorner · 3 years

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Falcon And Winter Soldier Episode 5- My Thoughts

Oh boy, this one might be a bit longer than usual. There’s a lot to go through in this episode. As always, spoilers under the cut.

It immediately picks up after Walker brutally murdered Nico in that crowded square. We see he’s taken off running, and ends up in some deserted warehouse of some kind. For a moment, you almost think he’s starting to grasp the gravity of what he’s done, but he’s then plagued by memories of his time with Hoskins, which only leads to him further slipping into insanity and convincing himself that he did what was necessary. That’s when Bucky and Sam enter the scene. They quickly figure out that Walker’s off his rocker. Particularly when Walker tries to justify his actions by claiming that Nico was the one who killed Hoskins, even though it was clear that Karli was the one who killed him. They do their best to try and help him realize that revenge is not the same as justice, but Walker isn’t willing to listen. Sam, slipping into councilor mode, attempts to calm him down. Unfortunately, if his words were having any affect on Walker, it all went downhill fast when Sam told Walker to hand the Shield over to them. Because Walker firmly believed the Shield was his rightful property, so he was not about to willingly give it up. So Bucky and Sam have no choice but to take the Shield back by force. At one point during this fight, Bucky gets momentarily dazed upon getting thrown into some sort of circuit breaker box, which also seems to briefly cause his vibranium arm to short-circuit. Of course, Sam can’t really hold his own against a crazed Super Soldier one-on-one for long, and Walker eventually has him pinned to the ground. He even destroys Sam’s Falcon wings. But just before Walker could actually kill Sam- yeah, he was actually about to kill Sam there!- Bucky recovers and rejoins the fight. Together, Sam and Bucky manage to pry the Shield away from Walker’s tight grip. Though they have to break his arm in the process. But even then, Walker isn’t backing down. Because he still firmly believes HE is Captain America. It takes a pretty awesome combo move from Bucky and Sam to take Walker down. Because not even a Super Soldier can withstand getting swung into a jet-packed fueled blow from the Shield. With Walker defeated, Bucky pretty much places the Shield at Sam’s feet, effectivly giving it to him once again, before walking off without a word.

So, after that pretty epic battle, the episode allows the characters, and the viewing audience, a chance to catch their breaths. Karli and the Flag Smashers have pretty much gone underground, making it impossible for anyone to locate them. Not that the government doesn’t try, as they conduct raids to all the GRC facilities that housed them, and even arrest the people that offered them shelter. But still, no sign of Karli anywhere. So Bucky and Sam decide there’s not much more they can do, particularly since they’ve been benched by the government officials. Even so, Sam still wants to do what he can in seeing this whole thing to the end. So he asks his friend and associate, Joaquín Torres (who we haven’t seen since Episode 2), to keep him posted. Although, Sam also leaves his broken wingsuit with Joaquín. Which is probably a reference to the fact that Joaquín took up the mantle of Falcon after Sam in the comics.

Of course, there’s still the loose end of Zemo. Bucky manages to track him down in Sokovia, at the memorial that was put up in honor of everyone who died there during the events of Age of Ultron. Which does make sense, since Zemo’s wife and children were among the casualties.

Now, I gotta pause for a moment to talk about something here. During the Previously On segment for this episode, we got reminded of a scene from a previous episode, in which Zemo seemed to be trying to shame Sam and Bucky for not ever visiting the memorial themselves. Maybe it’s me, but that seems kinda unfair. For starters, Bucky and Sam weren’t even involved during the events of Age Of Ultron. With Sam, I don’t think he was officially an Avenger at that point. He was part of the reserve team, if anything. And Bucky was in Romania, trying to reacquaint himself with his true identity while hiding from both the CIA and what was left of Hydra. Even if that wasn’t the case, when exactly were they supposed to visit the memorial? As of the events of Civil War, Sam was on the run as a fugitive alongside Steve and Natasha. And Bucky was in Wakanda, either in cryofreeze or going through mental rehabilitation. And then they both got dusted at the end of Infinity War, meaning they were erased from existence for the next five years. So when exactly could they have visited the Sokovia Memorial to pay their respects? Of course, I do get what the episode was trying to say, since the Avengers didn’t really do much in offering Sokovia any sort of relief efforts. (Though you could also argue that Tony should have been the one to handle that, considering the whole situation with Ultron was his own fault. And goodness knows he had the monetary means to do something, with him being the billionaire and all. But I guess that’s all semantics.)

Anyway, Zemo tells Bucky that the only way they can hope to stop Karli now is by killing her, but Bucky tells him they’re going to try to do things their own way. At this point, Bucky aims a gun at Zemo’s head. But it’s soon revealed that Bucky had previously made sure the gun was already empty when he shows that he’d removed the bullets beforehand. Which I guess was his way of showing Zemo that he was wrong about him. And that Bucky, despite being an enhanced individual (something that Zemo clearly hates), still chose to spare his life. At this point, the Dora Milaje show up, with the intention of bringing Zemo to the Raft, that prison we last saw in Civil War. Before Zemo is escorted off, he tells Bucky he took the liberty of crossing his name out of Bucky’s book, and that he doesn’t blame Bucky for doing what he thought was right. Wow, how magnanimous of him, right? Shame he couldn’t have extended this same level of courtesy towards the rest of the Avengers.

Still, I guess this means we’ve seen the last of Zemo. At least for now. Eh, good riddance, I say. I personally hope we never see him again, While I do sympathize that he lost his family, I still don’t like him in the slightest. On the other hand, I did like that Ayo indicated that Bucky is at least partially forgiven for helping break Zemo out of jail. Sure, she does tell him that he should still stay away from Wakanda for the time being, but she is calling him White Wolf again. Which indicates that their friendship wasn’t broken beyond repair. Before they part ways, however, Bucky tells Ayo that he has one more favor to ask of her.

Here, the episode begins to focus on Sam as he begins to head back home to Louisiana. But first, he makes a detour back to Baltimore, in order to sit down and really talk with Isaiah. Which enables us to really learn exactly what happened with him in the 1950s. Turns out, he didn’t get injected with the Super Serum knowingly He and a few other Black men were essentially used as guinea pigs, in which they were told they were being given tuberculosis shots or something when it was actually an experimental recreation of the Super Serum. But it seems that, for some reason, the other Black test subjects begin displaying some manner of unfortunate side effects to the Serum, which suggested it wasn’t stabilizing with them. Only Isaiah was able to successfully transition into a true Super Soldier like Steve Rogers. So when the other Black test subjects were captured behind enemy lines (because this was the time of the Korean War), the US government were simply planning to drop bombs on the POW camps, in order to prevent word of their little experiment from getting out. When Isaiah found out what they were planning, he took it upon himself to get those men out of there, in a similar manner to what Steve did in the first Captain America movie. Except he was rewarded for his bravery by being locked up like a criminal, with the US government conducting experiments on him to try and figure out why the Super Serum worked with him and not the other test subjects. They even told Isaiah’s wife that he was dead while making sure he never received any of the letters she’s sent him. In the end, Isaiah only escaped because this nameless nurse took pity on him and helped him escape by essentially faking his death. This backstory really is sad and tragic, especially when you realize it’s partially based on an actual historical event. Just try looking up the Tuskegee Experiment sometime. It’s really messed up. Anyway, Isaiah finishes his sad story by telling Sam that, regardless of what he might believe, the world hasn’t changed that much. And that not only will the world never accept a Black man as Captain America, no self-respecting Black man would even attempt to take up the mantle because of how America has always treated men like them.

With that advice still weighing on his mind, Sam returns home to rejoin his sister, Sarah, and his two nephews, AJ and Cass. So now we’re getting back to the subplot from the first episode, involving the failing family-run fishing business. It seems Sarah is still thinking it’s time to throw in the towel and simply sell their family’s fishing boat. The main issue with that is, because it’s all run down and in need of serious repair, nobody would even consider buying it. Fortunately, Sam has an idea. Remembering how their parents, who apparently died some time ago, had been long-standing pillars in the community and had often offered aid to their neighbors, Sam makes a few phone calls and gets the whole community to come pitch in and help repair the old fishing boat, thereby repaying the previous kindness of Sam and Sarah’s late parents. One of the neighbors even comes by with a brand new engine for the fishing boat. But then, just as Sam is wondering how they’re going to manage getting the heavy-looking boat engine off the back of the truck, Bucky appears out of nowhere, using his Super Soldier strength to effortlessly lift the motor up over his shoulders.

Bucky explains his presence away, stating he’s only there to drop off a crate for Sam, which clearly came from the Wakandans. It’s implied the contents of the crate have something to do with the favor he asked of Ayo. But then, Bucky ends up sticking around to help Sam fix up the fishing boat. Cue a boat repairing montage, complete with a song playing over the whole sequence. Bit bizarre we’re getting something like this in the penultimate episode, but it’s still pretty enjoyable. Particularly since we get to see Bucky and Sam actually bonding as themselves. And yes, there does seem to be vague implications that there might eventually be something between Bucky and Sarah. Although, I don’t know if I necessarily ship it. At least not yet. I’d need to see more of them interacting with each other besides just seeing Bucky saying ‘hi’ to her a few times before I make up my mind. Granted it would be an interesting thing to explore of course. Particularly since, to my knowledge, it would be the first biracial couple featured in the MCU. Unless you count Peter Quill and Gamora, of course. (And that brief thing that was going on between Peggy and Jason Wilkes in the woefully short-lived Agent Carter series.) At present, though, I think Bucky’s obvious affection towards Sam’s family seems more tied to his own memories of his life before WW2. When he wakes up the next morning on the couch (because Sam invited him to crash at the house instead of finding a hotel room somewhere), a genuine smile appears on his face when he catches AJ and Cass playing around with the Shield in the living room. Those of you who have read Bucky’s bio in the MCU wiki might remember that Bucky was the oldest child of four, so seeing AJ and Cass might be reminding him of how he used to play with his younger sisters. And interestingly enough, Sam’s sister’s name is Sarah. Which was also the name of Steve Roger’s mother, which is probably making Bucky feel even more nostalgia. (Side note- Bucky was actually sleeping on the couch. Which is a step up from where we first saw him in the first episode, where he was sleeping on the cold, hard floor. This is probably an indication that Bucky is starting to heal.)

Anyway, we then see Bucky helping train Sam in throwing the Shield around. They even set up an obstacle course of sorts, with mats being tied to a few of the surrounding trees. They briefly discuss the lingering issue of the Flag Smashers. There’s still no sign of Karli, but Sam promises to give Bucky a call when he gets a new lead, and Bucky promises that he’ll come back to assist Sam at that time. However, the main focus of the scene involves Bucky finally apologizing to Sam for giving him a hard time over the Shield in the first place, with him acknowledging how he and Steve didn’t really grasp what it might feel like to a Black man to be given the Shield. We also get an indication that Steve and Bucky did discuss Steve’s plans of retiring by staying in the past to live a life with Peggy after returning the Infinity Stones ahead of time. It was vaguely suggested in a read-between-the-lines sort of way at the end of Endgame, but it’s nice they confirmed that Steve didn’t just up and decide to do that on the fly. Bucky then starts opening up to Sam, admitting to him that the reason why he was so angry about the Shield in the first place was that, to him, the Shield felt like his last connection he had to Steve, who was the closest thing he had to a family. And that feeling has intensified now that Steve is gone. (Can we please get some clarification on what they mean by ‘gone,’ by the way? Did Steve actually pass away from old age offscreen? Up until now, it’s something they’ve only vaguely inferred to. Like maybe, maybe, maybe. But if that’s what happened, I wish they’d quit tiptoeing around the issue and just tell us straight out.) Anyway, it’s really cool that Bucky is talking to Sam about all of this. It does show that he truly does trust Sam. Especially more than he does that crappy therapist they forced on him. Just saying, Bucky was still denying to her that he was having nightmares, despite apparently having sessions with her for six months. But he freely admits to Sam that he is still having nightmares after only a week or so of them working together. If that doesn’t illustrate how poorly Bucky’s relationship with his government issued therapist was going, I don’t know what does.

As if getting how big a deal this is, for Bucky to open up to him like this, Sam once again slips into counselor mode. He tells Bucky that he shouldn’t put so much concern onto what Steve thought of him, because Bucky can’t let what others think of him determine his own self-value. Or something to that effect. He also advises Bucky to stop taking the easy way out in regards of alleviating his guilt over what he did as the Winter Soldier. Up until now, Bucky was only going after past Hydra agents to bring them to justice in an effort to make himself feel better. But if Bucky really wants to gain peace of mind, he should instead focus on helping the victims feel better. Which probably means that Bucky is going to go back and see that old man, Yori, from Episode 1 again and help him find closure by telling him the truth about what happened to his dead son. I admit, I’m really nervous about watching that scene unfold. Yeah, Yori does deserve the truth, but I’m scared about how he might take it. It would be understandable if he ends up blaming Bucky, sure. But at the same time, it’s kinda been rubbing me the wrong way how this show seems to be acting like Bucky is a reformed assassin who has to atone for what he’s done. No, that was what Natasha was. Bucky, on the other hand, was the world’s longest serving POW. Someone who was tortured and brainwashed by evil Nazi scientists who stripped him of his free will and autonomy. (And, if we consider the implications that Episode 3 gave us, we can also add sexual abuse to the list of things Hydra did to him.) Yeah, it’s only natural Bucky feels bad for what Hydra made him do. But that just indicates he’s naturally a good man with a good heart. I’m not exactly a fan of the idea that he should be made to feel like he should atone for anything he did. Because he was as much of a victim in all of that as the people Hydra sent him after. Still, if trying to make up for what Hydra forced him to do is what Bucky needs to do in order to forgive himself, then I guess I can support that. Do what you have to do to find closure for yourself, buddy.

Anyway, after Bucky leaves, Sam and Sarah continue to finish repairs on the fishing boat in preparation for selling it. But just before Sam is going to paint over the names of their parents, which is printed on the side of the boat, Sarah stops him. It seems she’s changed her mind about selling the boat, considering the boat is part of their family legacy. Which is something that Sam is relieved to hear, as he didn’t want to see the boat getting sold off, either. The siblings begin having a heart-to-heart, with Sarah telling Sam that, even though she’s always given him a hard time about the matter, she’d never thought he was running away from things whenever he went off to save the world and whatnot. She also tells him that she knows he’s been dwelling on what Isaiah said to him, but helps Sam make a decision involving the Shield. While Isaiah had good reasons for believing the way he did, Sam ultimately decides that the pain Isaiah went through would be in vain if nobody continued to fight for the future. And so, Sam decides that he’s now willing to accept the mantle of Captain America. Which leads to another montage. This time of Sam going through a self-training session with the Shied, with his nephews, AJ and Cass, helping out. The training montage ends with us seeing that Sam has become a pro at throwing and catching the Shield.

Of course, just when you start to think this episode is feeling like the series finale, with everything wrapping up and setting the stage for a future adventure, we get the reminder that there is still one more episode to go. It seems that Karli has been pushed over the edge after the death of Nico, as well as seeing all the GRC facilities raided and cleared out of refugees. And she is now out for revenge. Specifically, she plans to rally up what remains of her followers and attack the GRC headquarters, as they plan to vote on the Patch Act, which would force millions of people to relocate to their home states. To achieve this goal, Karli manage to join forces with Batroc, who had previously appeared at the beginning of Episode 1. Strangely enough, an earlier scene does suggest Batroc was actually hired to team up with Karli and the Flag Smashers by Sharon Carter, which only further indicates that Sharon is a bit shady. What exactly is Sharon up to? Is she a bad guy now? That would kinda stink, since she is Peggy Carter’s great niece or something. Talk about besmirching your family name.

Anyway, right when the Flag Smasher’s attack on GRC headquarters is about to begin, Sam gets a tip off from Joaquín, who had been keeping his ear to the grapevine in terms of the Flag Smasher’s movements. Apparently, the Flag Smashers coordinate their attacks via this coded cellphone signal, which Joaquín had figured out how to hack into. And he notifies Sam that the coded cellphone signal is now showing up in New York City. Sam seems to figure out what the Flag Smashers are about to do when he sees a news report on the TV about the GRC voting on the Patch Act that evening. Deciding to go and do something about it, he opens up that Wakandan crate Bucky had dropped off. The episode ends before we can see what exactly was inside the crate, though. They’re clearly saving that reveal for the final episode. Although, my boyfriend, who is also my viewing partner for this show, is a bit of an expert on what went on in the Marvel comics. (He even worked in a comic book/gaming store before we met.) It seems that, in the comics, Sam Wilson did end up getting a pair of Falcon wings that utilized hologram technology of some kind. So he’s theorizing that’s what it is. Still, we have to wait until next Friday to know for sure. Either way, it looks like this next episode will decide what happens with Karli and the Flag Smashers. I honestly don’t see how it’s possible to resolve things with Karli peacefully, though. She seems too far gone at this point. But I’m sure Sam will still try to talk her down, which only deepens my respect for him. And who knows? Maybe Sam will succeed, with Karli going the Coalhouse Walker route- agreeing to stand down in exchange for the promise of a fair trial, which would allow her to state her case. (Of course, I hope they don’t do things exactly how it went down in Ragtime. Because in that story, they pretty much promise Coalhouse that he’ll receive a fair trial, but the moment he surrenders himself, the police immediately open fire and shoot him dead. Which is not even remotely cool.)

Oh, and then there’s still the matter of Walker. Unfortunately, I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him. Because even though Sam and Bucky effectivly took him down AND he received a dishonorable discharge by the US government, he still refuses to believe he did anything wrong. He’s convinced that he still deserves to be Captain America. While a small part of me does pity him, he really is displaying what appears to be a fragile White male ego. He even goes up to Hoskin’s grieving parents and sister and lies to them about how Nico was the one who killed their son, and that they should take comfort in the fact that justice was served. There’s also a mid-credits scene where we see he’s trying to make his own version of the Shield. Doubt its made of vibranium, of course. I Gotta say, I’m seeing a lot of parallels between Walker and Karli right now. Both of them have convinced themselves that they are 100% in the right, and everything they do is completely justified. Which naturally makes them both very dangerous. However, I’m mostly concerned by this mysterious woman. Contessa, or whatever it was she called herself. She approached Walker after his trial to tell him that he didn’t do anything wrong before giving him what appears to be a blank business card. (I’m guessing there’s some sort of secret decoded message on this business card that Walker will decipher later on.) I have no idea who this woman is supposed to be or what her goal is. I’m guessing she’s someone comic book experts would recognize, but my boyfriend/viewing partner, who is familiar with the comics, didn’t seem to recognize her name, either. So it’s a big mystery at this point.

Before I wrap up my thoughts for this week’s episode, there is something partially unrelated I should mention. For those of you who haven’t heard, Sebastian Stan’s latest movie, Monday, recently came out. And it seems that this movie includes Sebastian and his female co-star in a full-frontal nudity scene. From what I’ve heard, there have been some select individuals who have seen fit to criticize Sebastian’s appearance in this scene, because he wasn’t in perfect shape or something like that. If you were one of those select individuals who decided to body shame Sebastian after watching this movie? Grow up! Bodies come in all shapes and sizes. And to expect a male actor to have a completely chiseled physique at all times is extremely unrealistic, particularly when they’re portraying an ordinary person. The fact that people were acting like this is even more disgusting when you consider the fact that Sebastian Stan apparently already has some body issues. The fact that he was still willing to film this full-frontal scene despite those issues just illustrates his passion and dedication to his skill as an actor and the message this movie was meant to convey. He did not deserve to have his body objectified the way it was. Nobody does. So once again, this is me condemning the behavior of those select ‘fans.’

#falcon and winter soldier #falcon and winter solider series

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dearophelia · 4 years

Text

gonna set your flag on fire - chapter 9

chapter 09: the house don’t fall when the bones are good

operational security [read on AO3]

it’s been a hot minute with this one, whoops. eternal and forever thanks to @tarysande and @nightingaleseeking for their cheerleading through this.

“Olivia?” Garrus calls. The audible panic in his subvocals makes him wince.

“Bedroom!” comes the answer.

Garrus takes a moment to breathe. The Normandy won’t be here for hours yet and packing won’t take long. He can spend these thirty seconds to breathe now, before walking upstairs and seeing Olivia. He might not have them later.

Good air in, bad air out.

He allows himself to take a full minute in the silence of their home for a moment of calm and quiet. The hour since Olivia called him has been pure chaos: reschedule his week, call the Primarch, don’t forget the dinner party tonight for the new quarian economic delegation or tomorrow's breakfast with the forensic auditors from Irune Galactic, find suitably-important people to replace him at both events (and everything else this week), have someone pick up his gear, avoid looking panicked while doing any of this.

The silence is overwhelming and welcome. He closes his eyes and takes another breath before going upstairs.

He finds Olivia kneeling on the floor of their bedroom, packing.

Thirty years ago, chasing Saren across the galaxy, he’d watched in awe as his commanding officer stood firm and stoic in the face of utter mayhem. Nothing rattled her, nothing shook her steady posture. He’d never had a CO before who was that calm.

He knows her better now. The calm is how she gets through things. The calm is how she’s made through to the other side of trauma and crisis in one piece over and over again. Her voice doesn’t shake and neither does her resolve, but there’s a certain fragile steel in her spine that betrays the façade.

She may look calm to anyone else, but Garrus knows that Olivia is fucking terrified.

She’s thrown a sheet on the floor and laid her armor out on top of it. Shiny black and purple, with a scratch she never bothered to buff out on the left thigh. Her Black Widow and Avenger lay next to it.

“Vega’s letting you on the ground team?” It’s not the first thing he anticipated saying to her. He’d planned to say something idiotic, like are you okay. Of course she isn’t. He’s so far from okay that it doesn’t sound like a real word. Olivia can’t be closer.

She pauses, hand on her visor. “I’d like to see him try to stop me,” she says, slow and low and even.

Garrus would too, but Vega’s not that stupid. Olivia may not have seen any action outside the Arena in twenty years, but she has standing platinum matches three times a week; if he’s available or any of their friends are on the station and willing, she’ll pull them into it – otherwise, she goes solo. Last he checked, her stats were 7:1 extracting.

His are 6:1 and his assistant picked up his armor this afternoon. “He’ll have to go through both of us.”

She finally looks up at him.

He swallows. The expression on her face is identical to the one she wore while staring down a reaper. “I’m going.” Olivia isn't the only unstoppable force in their family. There are a million reasons he shouldn’t even be on the ship, let alone groundside, but not one of them stands up against Cerberus having control of his daughter. This mission is too important to leave solely in the hands of other people.

Olivia sits back on her heels and sighs. “Wasn’t gonna stop you, Garrus,” she says softly. “Vega's meeting us at Soyuz-Janiri tomorrow with whatever resources he can scrounge up.”

Garrus steps around her, letting his hand briefly brush against her shoulder. He ducks into the closet to change out of his robes. “Good.” That was the last part of the plan, the only piece she didn't have locked into stone when she called. He exchanges his council robes for a pair of comfortable loose pants and a tunic. “When does the Normandy arrive?” he asks, stepping out of the closet. She told him the rest of the specifics this afternoon, but everything is a dull roar after Cerberus has Nora, Garrus: they activated the chip. Some part of him thinks he should be upset that she waited to tell him last. Another part of him knows that he'd call her last, too.

“4:45 in the morning.” She closes and locks her armor trunk and then stands, gathering the sheet. She balls it up and drops it in their laundry basket. “So we have,” she checks the clock, “ten hours to kill.”

Garrus takes a step forward and draws Olivia close into the hug he’s needed to give her – and needed to get from her – since she called. He wraps his arms tight around her, flattening his hands across her back as she tucks herself against him. He feels her breath shake and her arms circle around him just as tight.

After a few moments, he bows his head and kisses the top of her head. “We’ll get her back,” he whispers into her hair. They have to. They’ll rescue Nora and her team from that facility. And then they’ll turn the chip off again, this time for good. There is no alternative.

“I know,” she says quietly.

Tugging her closer, Garrus hums softly, a low, gentle, calming rumble he knows she likes. He ghosts his hands over her, slowly rubbing her back in soothing circles.

After a few moments, Olivia briefly tightens her hug and then takes half a step back. Garrus looks at his wife, keeping his arms still loosely wrapped around her. His heart twists in his chest. The lines on Olivia’s face, earned from decades of smiles and laughter, now look hollow and haunted.

He remembers the night in their quarters after Thessia, when the light hit just right and he thought for the briefest of moments that she was becoming a ghost before his eyes. She’d shattered in his arms, wild and feral and desperate, in a way he’s so grateful he hasn’t seen since. But as Olivia looks up at him tonight, twenty-five years of motherhood in her spine, Garrus knows that the night after Thessia fell will pale in comparison to how both of them will shatter if this doesn’t work.

So it's going to work.

Leaning down to bump his forehead against hers, he lets his subvocals shift a little deeper into a tone that will settle them both. “Let’s get some food.” Ten hours is a long time to have nothing to do. Neither of them will spend any of it sleeping.

As if on cue, her stomach growls. She laughs softly at herself and steps away.

“Have you eaten since breakfast?” Garrus asks as they walk downstairs to the kitchen. Food is the first thing Olivia always forgets during a crisis, followed very quickly by sleep. He can’t change that about her, but he can encourage her to get both.

“I had coffee?” she says, half a question, as if the whipped cream on her afternoon frozen coffee might qualify as food.

“Coffee hasn’t counted as food in the thirty years I’ve known you, Liv,” he gently chides. “It’s not suddenly going to start counting now.”

Olivia ignores him and opens the refrigerator, only to stare blankly at the levo side. "Takeout," she decides. Neither of them are in the right headspace to make anything. She sits down on the middle stool at the counter and opens the delivery app on her omnitool. He sits beside her and does the same.

“Oh,” she says after a moment. “You should order for two.”

Garrus raises a brow plate.

“Nico’s coming.”

The plate rises higher. Nico’s been working at the bakery for the past eight years. He officially took over from Hannah two years ago when she and Zaeed moved to Earth. Out of their two sons, he is not who Garrus would guess if asked who was coming on this mission.

She sends her order off. “We need a decryption specialist and he’s the best one I know.”

Garrus can’t fault that logic; Nico’s knee kept him from an active combat position and his entire deployment was spent in intelligence programs so classified Garrus didn’t even know they existed until he became councilor. He quickly orders for himself and his youngest son and then looks back at Olivia. “He’s staying on the ship though, right?” While their other two children took to combat like it was in their blood, Nico counted down the days until basic was over and he could get away from gunfire.

Olivia nods with a smile. “That’s the first thing he asked me, too. Yes.”

“Good.” Worrying about one kid is enough; he’d rather not have to worry about two. Or three. He wonders if Quentus has somehow found out and is currently badgering Solana to divert their current mission to Zorya.

***

James blinks as the airlock door opens to reveal not only Liara, Miranda, and Wrex, but also Deck and her entire team. “Thought you were on the other side of the galaxy,” he says, stepping aside to let everyone past him.

“I cashed in a favor,” Deck says. “Incidentally, the Blue Suns have some pretty wicked experimental quantum drives.”

He holds up his hand before she can continue. “I don’t want to know,” he says. “Find a bunk downstairs. Briefing’s in thirty. We’ll debrief on your thing once this is over.”

“Roger,” she says and gestures for the other three to follow her through the CIC to the elevator.

Wrex nods as he passes, revealing Jack and Tali standing in the space behind him. James looks over at his wife. Liara shrugs and gives him a small smile. He’s not sure whether the extra reinforcements are a good thing, but he’ll never turn down help. Tali hugs him, Jack gives a curt nod, and then he’s finally alone with Liara.

“Hi,” he says, drawing her into a hug. He wraps his strong arms around her shoulders and kisses her forehead. Nora’s family to him, but so are the other five trapped in that base. He’s had to mount rescues before, but this keeps getting worse the more he learns about it.

Liara hugs him back, just as tight. “Hello,” she says, giving him a gentle squeeze before pulling away. “I thought you might need the extra backup; I did not realize you’d have Anubis back.”

“Neither did I,” he says, walking side-by-side with her through the CIC to the war room. “The more the merrier.” He nods at the crew they pass. Everyone looks so young. He supposes he’s gotten old.

James feels the Normandy shudder as the docking clamps release, followed by a brief wobbly moment before the inertial dampeners kick in. He gestures for Liara to go through the war room security checkpoint first. Three days. He takes a deep breath. He needs his guys to hang on for three more days.

“You’re the reason I have children,” Wrex is saying when James enters the room. “You think I’m not gonna come help you get your kid back?”

Shepard looks like she’s about to cry.

Jack crosses her arms and shifts her weight; the red holographic display casts angry shadows across her face. “Cerberus doesn’t get to fuck with kids as long as I’m alive.”

“You’re my friend,” Tali says. And then she shrugs. “Plus, I was already on the station.”

At that, Shepard laughs. “I’m glad you’re all here, thank you.” And then her eyes settle on Liara.

James doesn’t know what it is that Liara sees, but she lets out a soft, sad sigh before making her way down the stairs and over to Shepard.

Liara hugs Shepard tightly and doesn’t let go. Everyone talks around them, letting the two of them fade into the background and share their quiet little hug in the corner alone.

Out of the corner of his eye, James sees Garrus step into the room and stand beside him. He turns. Garrus is watching Shepard and Liara in much the same way he was.

“How’s she doing?” James asks. He wishes he could just ask as her friend. But Shepard's on the ground team and he needs to know.

“Not good,” Garrus says.

The understatement in Garrus’ voice is crystal clear and James looks up at him. “How are you doing?”

Garrus slowly turns and looks at him. “Not good,” he repeats, with the same clipped tone.

Exhaling, James nods. If their positions were reversed, not good would be an understatement for him, too.

***

“Why do I always have to be the one to do this?” Rachel asks with a sigh. It’s almost time for them to come collect the empty lunch trays. She’d actually enjoyed lunch today; there was an apple.

“Always?” Micah asks. “You mean this is not the first time you’ve done this?”

She shakes her head.

“It always has to be you because you look the least intimidating,” Jonah says.

“People underestimating me is largely how I've gotten this far,” Rachel says cheerily. The door opens and a single guard enters while another stands at the door. “I hate this part,” she murmurs to herself.

Rachel waits until he’s deactivating her forceshield and then bends over, her hair hiding her face from them. She dry heaves a few times and then makes herself throw up the remnants of lunch. She stands up straight, stumbles a little and pushes her hair back out of her face. “I don’t feel good,” she tells the guard.

“Sorry,” he says.

She gags again, making sure to aim in his direction. She wipes the back of her hand over her mouth when he looks up at her in disgust. “Told you.”

The other guard sighs. “We should take her in to medical. Turner says we need these guys alive for the time being.”

“Fine,” he says, gesturing for her to come out of the cell.

Keeping her hands up, showing that she has no intentions, Rachel follows the guards out.

“Hey!” Carlos shouts after them. “Send someone to clean this up! It’s gonna smell!”

Rachel counts guards and doorways and turns, making a mental map of the immediate area around the cells. They pass a stairway marked roof access, and there’s noise coming from the closet next to the stairs. It’s quiet, but definitely music. She listens as hard as she can without revealing herself.

Love beyond moons, love beyond stars!

They walk past the closet and take another turn to the left, but Rachel bites back a smile as the song fades. She’s found their gear.

***

Her caffeine load inevitably crashes and Olivia stumbles into bed beside Garrus. Though she’s exhausted, and even took a sleeping pill, sleep eludes her. Olivia rolls onto her side, then her stomach, then her back. She waits twenty minutes and then tries the whole cycle again. After three attempts, she gives up and stares at the ceiling while Garrus snores softly beside her. He's always been able to sleep anywhere, anytime, as long as he knows someone's keeping watch.

She could lie here in bed and get increasingly more annoyed about being awake, or she could do something useful. She brushes a kiss to Garrus’ forehead and then noiselessly slips out of bed.

Tugging a blue Alliance-branded sweatshirt over her head, Olivia stuffs her feet into her boots. Her black pajama pants get stuck in the cuffs and she pulls them out, wishing she’d had the foresight to bring sneakers. She really ought to change into BDUs since she’s going to be out of quarters, but she’s a civilian now and it’s the middle of the night.

She and Garrus are in a two-bunk officer’s quarters, sharing only with James and Liara. It’s small, but it isn’t sleeper pods and it isn’t the barracks-like atmosphere downstairs: with fifteen extra passengers, there aren't enough bunks for everyone and they've thrown every spare couch and chair and pillow into the lounges for impromptu sleeping space. Olivia tiptoes around the other bed, noting that James is the only one in it, and grabs her tablet before slipping out.

Yawning, Olivia steps onto the elevator and presses the control panel for Deck Four. If she’s not going to sleep, she’s going to need coffee. They still have two days; she’ll properly crash later. She runs her fingers through her hair and yawns again before the elevator doors open. The Normandy’s nighttime lights are dim and soft, and she’s in the galley with her hand on the coffeemaker before she notices the figure sitting at the table, hunched over a glowing tablet.

She starts a fresh pot and then walks over to him. “What are you still doing up?” she asks quietly, softly rubbing her son’s back.

Nico sighs and looks up at her. “Trying to break this. I think I’m close to the second decryption level.” He blinks. “Didn’t you and Dad go to bed?”

Olivia slides into a chair opposite him. “He did,” she sighs. “I gave up.”

He looks at her, then over at the coffeemaker burbling happily as it drips into a mug. “Going the Nora route of staying up until your body can’t take it anymore?” He lifts a browplate.

She shrugs and curls a little into her sweatshirt; she’s not proud to say Nora didn’t develop that habit in a vacuum. “Works every time." She reaches across the table and clasps his hand. “I’m sorry I pulled you away for this.” Nico chose a non-military life and it was for a reason. Desperately needing his decryption skills doesn’t change that she feels guilty pulling him away from his own life and back into one he left.

He smiles as she stands to get her coffee. “She’s my sister,” he says simply. “I have people who can handle the bakery for a few days and Lucien can feed my fish.”

Smiling, Olivia returns to her seat, steaming mug in hand. She takes a sip; Alliance coffee hasn't gotten much better in the years since she left, but it’s still tolerable. “Have you two found a place yet?”

“We have a few in mind,” Nico says. “But trying to find something that’s close to the bakery and his precinct and in our price range is harder than we thought.”

Olivia nods. “Apartment hunting sucks,” she commiserates. She does not miss it; designing their home from scratch was one of the best decisions she and Garrus ever made. “What are you going to do with the one above the bakery?”

His tablet beeps with a sad noise and he sighs. He types a few thing and then looks up at her. “I’m thinking about keeping it for when my brother needs to drink himself silly again.”

Olivia winces. “How’s he doing?” She’s had a few emails from Quentus since he left the Citadel. He’s excited about his new assignment, but rejection has always stung strong for her eldest.

Nico shrugs and pushes his tablet aside while the program runs. “He’s upset. But the new assignment’s helping. Solana has him leading a ground team and they have some crazy new tech he can’t tell me about.”

“It’s stealth,” Liara says around a wide yawn. She drops into the chair next to Olivia. “The Hierarchy’s working on no-discharge zero-emission stealth drives.” She picks up Olivia’s mug and takes a sip.

“Get your own,” Olivia says, sliding the mug out of Liara’s reach once she’s set it down. “What are you doing up?”

Liara yawns again. “Talking to vorcha.”

Olivia silently slides her mug back toward Liara. She gets up to pour herself another. “Anything useful?”

“Updated topographical maps, a weather report, and a headache.”

Nico’s tablet beeps, happy and successful this time. “Finally.” He looks up to find both his mother and Liara looking at him expectantly. “Updated base schematics, guard rotations, rolling door codes.”

“Nicely done,” Olivia says, leaning against the counter.

"The base is definitely central ops for Project Damocles, but I'm also finding something about a Project Gemini. No assets on base, just some bio metadata in cached email."

Olivia glances at Liara. "What are the chances that's not what I think it is?" Under normal circumstances, hearing about a Cerberus Project Gemini would cause her stomach to drop all the way through the ship and out into space. As it is, she's not sure her stomach has been inside her body since she got the call from Vega.

"Slim," her friend confirms.

Sighing, Olivia shakes her head at Nico's raised browplate. "Way above your clearance level," she tells him. "Forward all of it to Alliance Central Intelligence." Leave it to Cerberus to keep that particular project going. She never thought she'd label her clone a Tomorrow Problem, but a lot of things she never thought would happen have happened in the last 48 hours.

"And me," Liara says.

"And her."

The observation bay door opens, and loud, excitable indistinct conversation filters out before being silenced again as the door closes. Ashley walks into the mess and straight for the coffee. “We’ve officially given up on stealth,” she says, pouring herself some coffee and setting it to brew more. “Just rush the gates.”

“Blowing the door down has always worked well for us,” Olivia muses.

“That’s what I thought,” Ashley says, sitting down beside Liara. “They’re still working on a way past the AA guns that doesn’t involve a two-day hike through the jungle, though.” She looks at the clock and then back in the direction of the observation bay. “Were we ever that young?"

"No," Olivia says.

“Speak for yourselves, please,” Liara says with a grin.

Laughing, Ashley lightly shoves Liara’s shoulder.

“Uh, Captain?” Joker’s voice crackles over the comm.

Ashley sighs with a distinct tone of I don’t want to hear it. "Yeah?"

“We’ve got a ship on intercept course. Unknown configuration.”

“Keep us quiet,” she says. “I’m on my way.” She gestures for Olivia to follow her.

Olivia stands and takes one last sip of coffee. "Keep working on the AA guns," she tells Nico before following Ashley.

“What’s the likelihood this is just a coincidence?” Ashley asks once they’re both in the elevator and rising.

There’s math she could do to figure out the exact probability, but Olivia knows a rhetorical question when she hears it. “First time for everything,” she says.

“They’re hailing us,” Joker says when they walk into the cockpit. “Unknown frequency.” He turns in his seat and looks at Ashley. “What do you want me to do?”

"They shouldn't even be able to see us," Ashley says.

"And yet." Joker gestures to the communication panel and its blinking light.

Ashley waits a moment, shares a long look with Olivia, and then shrugs. “Here’s hoping no one’s dumb enough to fire on us,” she says. “And here’s hoping today isn’t the day that logic runs out. Answer it.”

The viewscreen flickers on. Olivia smiles.

“Heard you were on a rescue mission,” Solana says, Quentus standing behind her. “Anything we can do to help?”

#oh lord on high how was i tagging this #s:set your flag #i know that much???#anyway it's been a hot minute since this got updated so whoops here we are

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