#even though my dumbass thought this was a war siren at first

[maryeve-the-bitch]

I am 99% sure that the Canadian emergency alert give people panic or anxiety attack and frankly, I am extremely surprised that there's no petition to change the sound or MAKE IT LESS LOUD FOR GOOD SAKE. I hate it.

#i actually experienced the American emergency alert a few time before the Canadian government implanted theirs #and it is oddly softer and less loud #even though my dumbass thought this was a war siren at first #im not sure if i had an anxiety attack because of it or it was that and the fact there was a tornado warning and we NEVER have tornado #rant

[rosie-with-knives]

I am asking you about deretima! it sounds very interesting! what's it about? I've only seen Rae talking about it occasionally and that's about the extent of what I know.

first off, congratulations on being the first person on tumblr to actually ask me about it. I may have freaked out for a bit. It's very exciting for me

Short answer, I'm working on A Book and Deretima is the world it is set on. Rae (as well as a handful of others) know a lot about it because I bounce ideas off of them in our discord server. I create best with people to soundboard for me. Occasionally they come up with cooler things than I would have ever thought of and they're so nice to let me take those ideas and run. Shout out to @raeofsunshin for the art in particular. They make that of their own free will and choice and it quite nearly makes me cry every time.

Very very long answer under the cut.

I'm going to organize this the best I can but I do get very excited and tend to ramble a bit. Apologies in advance.

A Brief History Of Deretima

The world of Deretima was created by four gods, a family, who came to this universe and shaped it to their whims. The Father, The Mother, The Son, and The Daughter willed it into existence by sheer belief and consequently, belief is a quantifiable thing in this world that can, and has, changed reality. After The Daughter created humans, the Old Gods (as they became known) went to war. This event is later known as the Great Breaking and left The Daughter as the sole ruler of this world. I've posted a short story of this here.

Unfortunately, full godhood responsibilities are really too much for one person. Too much for 4, even. So The Daughter, now known as The Bloody One, sought to create more gods to help her out. The first one she created was The Spider (front and center in Rae's art here. They have more, too, though I'm not sure if it's been posted.) I love the Spider. She's the god of manipulation and lies and truth and death and the bonds between everything and also she holds reality together. There's a full pantheon of about 15 gods, known in different cultures by different names and with varying sets of powers and strength. The ones most believed in are the ones most powerful. Also featured in Rae's art are The Friend (top right), The Bloody One (top left), The Siren (bottom left), and the Pirate (bottom right). This art by @mrs-brightside00 features The Keeper (red) and The Dancer (blue) and links to a different short story I wrote based on a tumblr prompt. I hope to finish it someday.

A list of the gods and a short description of their domains: -The Spider (truth and lies, manipulation, death, bonds. By far the most powerful god) -The Engineer (life and creation, creativity, the patron god of the Sunborn and inheritor of the Son's powers) -The Keeper/Living Hearth/Protector (god of protection, and of hearth and home. Known mainly as The Keeper to the Mer and as The Living Hearth among land dwelling races, short story here) -The Archivist/Knowledgeable/Lost (god of teaching and learning and knowledge, also of wanderers and loss of memory, patron to many nomadic tribes and also has the most extensive church system. It makes sense with the story I promise) -The Blacksmith (god of fire and stone, patron of the Forged and inheritor of the Mother's powers. See short story here) -The Dancer (god of sailing and navigation, also music and dance, primarily known among the Forged of the island of Levk) -The Siren (god of the sea, betrayal, and romantic love, patron of the Mer and inheritor of the Father's powers) -The Pirate Queen (another god of sea and sailing and war, fairly limited powers as she is not well known but not a force to be reckoned with) -The Warmonger (god of war) -The Spirit (god of revolution, alcohol, and parties) -The Friend (god of friendship and platonic love and the bonds between people specifically) -The Doctor (god of medicine) -The Devourer (god of destruction and needless violence) -The Grower (god of farming and harvests and feasts) -The Betrayed (god of revenge, anger, and spite)

The Races on Deretima

In the Great Breaking, some groups of humans turned away from the Daughter, their creator, and sought the protection of the other Old Gods in order to survive. There are still humans on Deretima, but there are 3 other races as well.

The Forged -Most simply put, they're a weird mix of tolkien-esque dwarves and elves -This race pleaded with the stones of the mountains to save their lives and turned themselves into living statues. See the short story linked under the Blacksmith in the list of gods. -They have skin of literal stone, hair that is metal, and eyes and fingernails of real gemstones -Forged tend to live for 500 years or so. A 'baby' Forged is carved by a master craftsman in an adult body (they do not grow) and brought to life by ritual. They mature more slowly than humans, taking about twice as long to develop, which isn't much but due to their culture are not really considered adults until about age 100 -Rae's art that drew you here has a Stoneborn named Lazuli in the middle left panel

The Sunborn -Simple explanation, dryads or Ents. Literal plant people -A baby Sunborn is created when a parent (can be any race) picks a plant they love and carries it around for a year and a day, loving it and caring for it and believing in it until it becomes a child -Sunborn can be any variety of plant. Sedentary village communities tend to be composed of 1-3 varieties. The nomadic tribes are a different story -Lifespan tends to be comparative to humans but there are a few outliers due to choice of plants. Things like specific kinds of trees can live as a Sunborn up to 200 years, but come with their own drawbacks and are rarely chosen for children.

The Mer -fairly standard mermaids/mermen -Mer come in many water creature species, with not much pattern or rhyme to it. The belief is that each person is born with the form that most suits their personality. The most common ones are reef-fish and other shallow ocean varieties, though both freshwater and deep sea varieties pop up on occasion -lifespan is usually equivalent to a standard human with the exception of the deep sea Mer, which can live 200-300 years

The Book

I haven't titled my current book yet, but it follows a young man named Kesil on his journey to figure out why an angry god slaughtered his town, leaving only him behind. It's a journey of self discovery and overcoming biases and becoming a better person. It's also a story of a dude who is a bit of a dumbass becoming a champion of the god of Knowledge unwittingly. It's also a romance between said dumbass and a wonderful capable woman named Kahani who is a badass in her own right and I love her (the romantic sub plot is really just a sub plot, and may take multiple books to complete, but I love their relationship a lot). I really thought I had posted more about them on here but I can't find any of it. Here's some short answers about Kesil, Kahani, and another character named Tasma.

I'm really hoping to have finished writing this book by the end of this year, but life is nuts and I can't promise any timeline. I'm not sure if I'll be able to get it published traditionally or if I'll need to self-publish but I WILL have books about Deretima in my hands. Someday.

Thank you so much for asking!! I've probably overwhelmed you a bit and I apologize but if you're curious about anything or want to know more just hit me up!!! I love to talk about my world

#rosie speaks #tales of deretima #rosie answers #wow this was long #i do not apologize #this is very much the condensed version. you can ask any of the Pests lmao #you can probably ask Rae for more art if you're curious too #I won't post it without permission and she may have already posted it though i cant find it at the moment

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Another Dream to Ashes

A/N: ... So here’s the thing: These Play the Hand You’re Dealt hands really threw me a loop on Billy giving me not one but TWO fluff prompts. And, well, as much as I want to give Billy pure love, I just can’t seem to give him pure fluff. So please accept this twist on the request and try not to be too upset with me. This can be read at any point in the I See You timeline, because...well...you’ll see.

Word Count: 1,800 

Request from: Anon- Billy Russo, Fluff, Secrets & Lies, Fight or Conflict

After hanging his towel on the hook behind the door, Billy raked his hands haphazardly through his wet hair. It looked jet black in his reflection, the longer strands dripping onto his shoulders, the shorter ones sticking out at odd angles. He swiped his other hand through the condensation on the mirror to get a better look at himself, turning his face to catch the angles of his jawline. He ran his fingertips down each side over the neatly groomed beard that covered his chin, removing any excess water. He wanted to wipe the dumbass smile from his face, too, but it would be harder to get rid of than a few stray droplets, the afternoon taking a surprising turn towards what he’d previously thought impossible. He shook his head at himself as he pulled on a loose fitting pair of bulky gray sweatpants and a dark, slate blue tee. Not impossible. Not if it’s her. He hit the light switch and left the bathroom to see where you’d gone.   

“Hey, Marine,” you called from the kitchen, rifling through the few cabinets, moving pots and dishes aside. 

Billy emerged from the hallway in time to catch you elevating on your toes to get a better look at the contents of the top shelf. He grinned to himself, eyes drawn to the thin strip of skin visible between the hem of your shirt and the waistband of your sweatpants. My sweatpants. The thought only sent that grin inward, spiraling down into his chest and wrapping around his heart. She’s wearin’ my sweatpants, she’s in my kitchen, she’s...He came to lean against the doorframe as your bare feet flattened back out on the orange peel and stick linoleum.  

“Where do you keep your…” you trailed off as you pulled a metal bowl out of your way, and Billy caught your reflection in it- your tongue poking into your cheek and a curious, determined look in your eye that sharpened as you smiled. “Nevermind, found it!” Shoving the bowl back inside, you closed the cabinet and swiveled around to face him, a plastic strainer in your hand. Huh, didn’t even know I had one of those. “You don’t do a lot of cooking, do you Billy?” 

Billy shrugged, pushing away from the door. “Nah, you know me.” She does. He gestured to a pile of takeout menus on the small dinette table in the corner, but his focus was on you and the way that your damp hair was soaking into the collar and sleeve of your shirt. My shirt. “You sure you don’t wanna just-”

You cut him off with a laugh and a shake of your head. “Yes, Russo,” he watched the way that your mouth quirked to the side when you said his name, like a signature smirk just for him. “I’m sure I don’t wanna just order something.” You set the strainer down on the cracked countertop, empty aside from a tired looking toaster oven, and leaned back against it. Billy’s eyes flicked to your hands, watching as you curled your fingers to grip the edge. “I told you I’d make you dinner, and that’s what I’m doing.” You laughed again and the sound drew his gaze back up to your face. “It’s the least I can do, I mean,” you let go of the counter and stepped closer to him, dropping your arms to your sides. “You came out in the rain and picked me up at the airport,” You took another step, ticking his good deeds off as you spoke, two fingers extended. “Let me use your shower,” you extended a third, followed by another laugh as you held up four fingers, wiggling them in the air. “And I’m wearing all of your clothes.”    

  Billy’s fingers twitched, wanting to reach out and slide over the black screened USMC logo printed on the soft, olive cotton, wanting to slip between the elastic and your skin. They were an old pair, washed and worn well too many times to count, one of the first he’d been issued after enlisting. As such, they didn’t come close to fitting him anymore; he was still lean, but he no longer resembled the scrawny eighteen year old he was when those pants were new. He couldn’t bring himself to get rid of them though, so they stayed tucked away in his closet, with the few other things he’d never part with- the framed scorecard you’d given him, a photo of him and Frank from one of the first tours they did together, his birth certificate.  Billy had intentionally chosen them for you when he realized you’d need a change of clothes, knowing how comfortable they were, knowing that no one but him had ever worn them before. He swallowed, crossing his arms over his chest to resist the urge to touch you. 

“Well,” he cleared his throat “when you put it like that.” He lifted one eyebrow to a well-practiced angle. “You sure dinner’s gonna cut it? That’s a big debt you owe and- hey!” 

You yanked the dish towel off of your shoulder, balled it up and threw it at him, muttering under your breath. “Jackass.” With the same grin he’d heard over the phone so many times, you turned back to the pot of pasta boiling on his stove, picking up a spoon to give it a stir. His chuckle faded beneath the sound of the cold rain lashing at the windows and the soft hiss of the steaming pot, and Billy watched the movement of your elbow as you tapped the utensil against the rim, your other hand perched on your hip. One bulb in the overhead fixture was out, the kitchen only bathed in half of it’s normally harsh light, casting shadows along one side of your face, down the curve of your back. Fuckin’ perfect. He let out a quiet breath as you looked over your shoulder, one cheek still pulled up into your eye. “Hey, hand me that towel back?” 

Billy blinked and looked down at the red checked towel in his hand, then at your empty one extended behind you, and made a decision. Fuck this pasta. “Yeah, sure.” He held it out for you and felt your fingers wrap around the cloth, heard you thank him, but he didn’t let go.

You tried to take it from his grasp, but turned around when you were unsuccessful, confusion cutting through your laugh. “Billy? What are you-” 

He yanked the towel, using it to pull you closer, pulling a gasp from your lips as he did. You didn’t let go. “C’mere,” he tilted his head to the side, dropping his voice as a strand of hair tumbled haphazardly into his eyes and you obliged. Why was I fightin’ this? His free hand found your hip and yours fell to his chest.

“Billy…” your voice was little more than a whisper and you let out a ragged breath that he felt on his lips. You swallowed in an attempt to regain control, but he felt your fingers tighten under his own around the towel, saw the shine in your eyes. “What about the-”

“M’not hungry.” He practically growled the words as he gave another pull both on the dish towel and the waistband of your sweatpants. My sweatpants. He licked his top lip, his eyes flicking down to yours, only inches away. “You hungry?” She’d stop me if she didn’t want this… she’s not stoppin’ me. He groaned your name under his breath, his thumb rubbing over the cracked, peeling screenprint before sliding under the soft cotton and over your soft skin. You shook your head, your nose bumping his as he leaned even closer. He reached behind you and turned the knob to extinguish the burner, the towel falling to the floor. “Didn’t think so.” His lips met yours and stole the breath from your lungs in a kiss that he couldn’t deny one minute longer, one he’d been wanting for so long. He filled his hands with you as you melted into him. 

Why the fuck were we fightin’ this?

He felt something on his shoulder, but he chose to ignore it, diving deeper into the kiss as your fingers delved into his hair. 

“Russo! Why are you fightin’ me damnit?” 

Huh? He felt another shake of his shoulder, felt your lips falling away. No… what the-

“Wake up, damnit, let’s go.” Frank’s gruff voice cut through to chase you from his mind. The fuck? He rolled his shoulder and opened his eyes, finding himself in his cot, tent flaps blowing in the cold desert breeze. What the… shit.

“Frankie?” He blinked, taking in his surroundings. This ain’t my kitchen. In the distance the sounds of gunfire, rockets and general conflict could be heard, the war zone equivalent to the city symphony of horns and sirens back in New York. She’s never been to my place. He blinked again, reaching for his watch on the overturned crate next to him. It’s the middle of the goddamn night. She never… Billy felt a cold disappointment drop into his stomach. It was a dream. We never... I never kissed her.  

“You good, Bill?” Frank sat back down on his own cot with a shake of his head. “Never known you to talk in your sleep but,” he shrugged. “Well you were talkin’.” I was? “Everythin’ good?” 

“Yeah,” Billy cleared his throat and readjusted his position  “Yeah, Frankie, all good.” 

“Alright well keep your mumblin’ to yourself, Bill.” 

Billy lobbed a string of profanity in Frank’s direction, the older man laughing to himself as he rolled over and immediately fell back to sleep. 

But Billy didn’t find sleep again that night, contemplating the lie he’d just told. All good? Bullshit, Russo. A far off boom followed by the repeating rat-tat-tat of heavy artillery and some shouts barely audible over the snores of his unit provided the cover sound he needed to reach over and find the book he’d been reading. Fingers moving on their own, he found the photo that he’d tucked into every tome you’d sent him. Pulling it from between the pages, he forced his eyes to focus in the dark until he saw every detail of your face as clear as it had just been in his dream. The warmth that had curled around his heart in his imagination settled there again, and it terrified him. Shit. 

He thought about the deal he’d all but signed in his own blood, and what it would mean to anyone close to him. I can’t. It’s… He looked at the picture again before slipping it back into the book. She’s just a dream… and I’m a fucking nightmare.

.

.

.

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @malionnes @thesumofmychoices @gollyderek @pheedraws @beautifuldesastre​ @lexxierave​ @songforhema​ @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes​ @lysawayne​ @roses-in-your-country-house @ymariejp​ @belladonnarey​ @audreychaz​ @songtoyou​ @stories-you-wont-hear​ @traeumerinwitzhelden​ @luminex3​ @drinix​ @jigsawlover10​ @with1love1anu​ @dearmarii​ @fific7

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the tags, and thank you for reading! :)

#play the hand you’re dealt #card game prompts #another dream to ashes #ISY #I See You #Billy Russo #fluff #(kind of) #secrets & lies #conflict or fight #Billy Russo x reader #billy russo x you fic #billy russo x you #billy russo fanfiction #the punisher alternate ending #sorry these are taking so long #sorry i can't give billy fluff without making him pay #i don't make the rules #well i guess i do #but i don't break them #well not this one anyway

[superlockatrocity]

ep2! we open on a Spooky Forest. is. is that the dude who plays finn in glee??????? i— huh???

well that dude’s dead so much for maybe-finn’s-actor’s moment of victory

sam your fashion sense is atrocious who wears khakis with a black su — NO COMPOOPER DONT LAG ON ME

pfft nice to dean’s got his priorities worked out

OH THANK GOD THE DRAFT SAVED TUMBLR QUIT ON ME

ooh damn that’s one smart grizzly. oh my them’s scars

dean immediately latching onto one smartypants word in order to throw it back in sam’s face is glorious older-sibling behavior

goddamn they are really working for that Manpain on sam’s end

oh cave! hi tommy how’s it hanging

alright bye other dude you will — well. uh. bye dude.

it’s kind of interesting that they’ve only come across one bear trap so far — i don’t know much about bear hunting but i do think it’s interesting.

dean. dean, peanut m&ms — on top of being an affront to chocolate — are not provisions.

hoh dat camp site got carnaged huh

aren’t sk*nw*lkers part of first nations’ mythology? just. thought i’d mention that.

:o IT BE A THIEF!!!!

ahh! w*nd*go . . . . nice to see spn’s first offense in its long history of snitching other cultures’ stories and misusing them just for a Monster Of The Week shtick :)

why are you writing symbols on the ground in the dark? you’re not worried no one’s gonna walk over them and/or mess them up?

“i don’t think dad’s ever even been to lost creek.” then why’d he send you there??????????????

yeah i agree with sam here; what’s the logic behind sending the two of them on a wild goose chase to find him — oh Manpain interruption — if he could just give one or both of ‘em a call?

i like this dean moment; yeah, hunting is exhausting and unrewarding and painful, but helping people? protecting them? in the end . . . that makes the hunting worth it.

ROY YOU PRIDEFUL FUCKING DUMBASS

i really wish they’d chosen a different beastie for this episode . . . like, i’d say do better research but i have seen multiple first nations people saying to just Not fuck around with any group’s myths. like, i mean — if they wanted a hunter thing they could’ve just made something up. they certainly do plenty of that in later seasons

“dark, hidden, and safe” like a fridge!

oh dat’s a bloody handprint. o dat’s a lotta bloody handprints. o dat’s a dead roy!

could we. could we maybe actually see the thing. like i get that it’s freaky but — oh! the m&ms! . . . . dean you fuckin litterer

jesus sam how shaky are your hands

if this thing is “the perfect hunter” wouldn’t it be able to scent sam and ben? wouldn’t it be able to hear them veRY LOUDLY CRASHING THROUGH THE FLOOR?? oh. okay why is it gone though

hi tommy! how’s it hangin x2

all y’alls need a shower

SLFJCJEBD “I TASTE GOOD!”

get RUNNING DUMBASSES I KNOW YOURE INJURED BUT NOT RUNNING WILL LEAD TO SIGNIFICANTLY WORSE THINGS

well that is an. Interesting death sequence. why did it sound like cheetor from beast wars??

i wonder if hailey and her brothers are gonna become hunters. that’d be a fun spinoff to think about

fjdjrjxbsj FUCKIN — i thought the ambulance siren in the show was going down my road

and thus ends episode two here come my overall thoughts

#livewatch #mod mouse #‘dude look at the size a’ that friggin bear!’ #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester

[antiquechampagne]

Beastly Kingdom - CH13 - Line’em Up

A shaft of orange light cut across Liz’s face, waking her up just as she had fallen asleep. She was tempted to grumble, but silently slid out of bed, careful not to disturb Oswald on the other side. After she freshened up as much as she could, Liz poked her head in Louis’s room. He still lay on his threadbare and stained mattress. The rusted bedframe creaking lightly as he shifted in his sleep. She took this rare peaceful moment and drank it in silently.

A hand lightly touched her shoulder. Her body tensed to attack, but she realized it was just Oswald. She wasn’t sure how he had snuck up on her so silently, then she remembered he had a few special tricks up his sleeve. He gave a little squeeze.

“That’s not the smartest idea, sneaking up on me like that.” She chided as she turned to face him. She smiled, noticing he had only clothed his lower half. “Unless you want to lose a few more teeth.”

Oswald smiled carelessly before a more serious expression darkened his glowing features. “He’ll be fine.”

“I know.” Liz couldn’t help but glance back. “But I should go before he wakes up. If he sees me, he might get upset. I don’t want him to be a handful for you.”

“He’s a sweet kid, but he’s not the one I worry about. Are you going to be able to leave if he won’t let you go?”

That rang a bit too true for Liz. She dramatically put her hand over her heart. “You wound me, sir!” Oswald shook his head. Before he could clap back, Liz gave him a quick and passionate kiss.

“And that is a thank you for last night… well, I guess another thank you. I’m off to war. I’ll bring you back something fun!” With that, Liz slipped off to join in the last-minute preparations before their forces started filtering out into the wasteland.

They had been sending small plainclothes groups to set up camps and safehouses in the nearby city for nearly a week, hiding the build up around the airport. Stealthily moving a giant glowing deathclaw and her blazing white and gold power armor was not an option. Liz was shipping out with the last remnants of her forces, including the gang leaders and their heavy guns just before the big offensive. Gage was slated to stay behind with a skeleton crew to keep Nuka-World running in their absence.

“Fuck’em up, Boss.” Gage nodded to Liz as she scanned over the nearly silent Nuka-World one last time.

“Don’t raise too much hell while I’m gone! Those townies can’t hold their liquor like a raider!”

“Shit, ain’t that the truth!”

They traveled slower that Liz would have liked. The arrived later than planned at the temporary command center in an abandoned school. Liz was tempted to send Mama to the nearby racetrack. It would be easier to hide her behind the stands, but she decided against it. Even though it was now full of her forces, some might spook and bolt being so close to such a threatening creature. Instead, she told Mama to stay behind the building and guard her power armor.

Heading inside, she was greeted by a scene of a bustling headquarters packed to the gills with people running here and there. Nearly all of them were wearing some version of a stupid tricorn hat. It nearly made her chuckle.

Liz and her entourage were quickly spotted and directed to a courtyard. The General was directing a few underlings with last minute orders.

“Glad you could make it. I thought I was going to have to start the party without you.” Nate arched his eyebrow. He was wearing a dark blue overcoat with stars sewn on the collars. He grabbed his own tricorn hat and put it on.

“Yeah, well, Mama needed a break… you try telling a deathclaw to hold it until we get there.” Nate almost smiled. “But now that we’re here, is everything progressing like we planned?”

Nate bent back down over the table with a crude map in the middle of the courtyard. “Everyone is in place; the artillery is awaiting my signal. What about your people?”

“This last group has the big guns… a little more than a dozen missile launchers and the bastards that love’em. The rest are chomping at the bit to get a piece of Brotherhood flesh, all we have to do is release the hounds.” Liz made a bit of a show of looking around. “And here I thought I would finally get to meet that Preston Garvey I’ve heard so much about. So, where is your second in command?”

Nate’s eyebrows knit ever so slightly. “He’s back at the Castle, keeping things running.” He glared back at her. “I don’t see Gage riding your coattails.”

“Touché,” Liz conceded. “But I will be insisting my underbosses work with your crew to coordinate and focus our strikes. They will be in charge of my people during the assault.”

“What are you going to be doing, then?”

“I didn’t wax my armor this morning for nothing. If I don’t get a few new scars from this little war you have staged, how can I call myself a proper Overboss?”

Nate shook his head. “Of course, you are suicidal…”

Liz punched her fist on the table with enough force to topple a few coffee mugs. The room went suddenly cold. More than one hand went to unclip a sidearm.

“I don’t send my guys into any place where I won’t go myself. What coward stays behind while sending others to die?”

The General and Overboss locked eyes. Nate broke away first.

“We don’t have time for this.” He huffed. “There’ll be enough of a blood bath for everyone, especially if we delay even more.”

“Agreed.” Liz turned to leave. “Rain hellfire down on the bastards and cover our asses. We’ll have them shitting their pants in no time.”

Mason followed her back to her armor, leaving Mags to coordinate placing the final assets among the entrenched Minutemen and Nuka-World troops. The plan was to get the missile launchers in place before the artillery landed to add an additional punch to their opening number. After that, she and Mama would lead the shock troop in and try and punch a hole in the wall. The first goal was to bring down the Brotherhood airship, everything apart from that was just frosting on the cake, as far as she was concerned.

After getting in her armor, the silent minutes stretched on for what felt like hours. Mama perked up and snorted, her head cocked to the side moments before Liz heard the telltale whoosh of an incoming projectile. For a split second, the Liz thought she heard the blare of an air raid siren before she pushed the ghost of a memory out of her head. She didn’t have time rehash a 200-year-old flashback right now.

The first dozen shells hit a mix of the perimeter wall guarding the airport, as well as the building proper. A few even managed to hit the Prydwen itself, one taking off a front observation deck and another damaging the support struts holding the tail in place. As the alarm was raised, a hail of missiles from the surrounding landscape exploded in of burst orange fire.

Liz slapped Mama on a meaty leg, then let out an adrenaline-fueled howl as she launched into a run down the barren space between her and the wall topped with Brotherhood knights. Roused by her cry, Mason’s Pack followed suit, popping up from behind every crumbling wall and rock to rush alongside their Overboss. Mama bellowed out her own deafening roar, the shockwave knocking out several nearby school windows before she sprinted to keep up.

The well-trained soldiers of the Brotherhood quickly recovered, scrambling to cover the advancing forces with return fire while extracting those unlucky enough to be in the blast radius of the first attack. Liz smiled as dozens of laser beams bounced ineffectively off her armor.

Come and shoot at the big bad bouncing raider, she thought as she raised her twin miniguns, keep wasting your ammo on me, dumbasses. Started firing as she ran, getting ever closer to the wall. She laughed, peppering bullets in wide swaths, causing the knights and scribes to duck for cover. The air around her rang with ballistics from both Pack semiautomatics and the slow thrum of Minutemen laser muskets.

A few yards down the wall, a dull gray power armor landed with a thud, its immense weight sending stone and debris flying in every direction. Liz turned, her eyes alight with a devilish fire. Pull themselves up, Liz saw the armored knight brandishing a powered super sledge, rockets blazing.

“Bring it, you rusty metal twat!” Her attacker sprinted, hurtling towards her with the deadly sledge raised. The knight was hit with a full barrage of 5mm rounds, but it barely slowed. However, it was enough for Liz to follow the super sledge’s trajectory. As the knight brought the sledge down, she sidestepped, the head catching nothing but empty air. The knight quickly recovered, pivoted and tried to use their moment to get out of arms reach. It wasn’t fast enough to avoid a blast from Liz’s trusty flamethrowers that were still mounted on her wrists aimed at the knight’s head. Liz snickered as she heard the voice inside roar in frustration.

Unfortunately, with her attention focused on the threat in front of her, Liz missed the telltale sound of an incoming vertibird. She soon found herself the target of a hail of machine gun fire as they strafed by in a close arch.  Her HUD started to blink and squawk annoyingly as the bullets started to break through her armor. Frustrated, Liz turned and returned concentrated fire, forcing the aircraft to break off and retreat momentarily, one it’s rotary engines beginning to smoke.

The knight, recovered, took advantage of the distraction, leaping and smashing the rocket powered lead into Liz’s turned back. Many more indicators turned red and blinked anxiously.

“EAT SHIT!” Liz raged and leapt onto the knight’s power armor, knocking them prone. Her armored fingers digging under the heat-deformed helmet and pulled. The metal groaned and gave. As soon as she could see something soft inside, she stuck the barrel of her flamethrower in and released enough hellfire to smell melting rubber and bubbling flesh inside her enclosed helmet.

Panting, she stood up, her hands still warm even with the internal heat shielding taking the brunt of the blowback from the flamethrowers. What worried her more was a single message that blinked angrily in her peripheral vision.

FUSION CORE BREACH IMMINENT The flashing was growing more urgent as she watched.

God damn it! She swore to herself. She just got this armor just how she wanted it. Fucking vertibird.

With a few seconds to decide, she knew what she was going to do. She sprinted to the closed gate. The reinforced metal and concrete were just barely scratched by the artillery and missiles that had missed their marks. Liz was betting a little nuclear fueled explosion could help crack that nut. She parked her armor right in the middle of the gate and pushed the button to open the back hatch… but all she heard was the grinding of gears and the pinging of shots hitting her armor.

“Fuck it!” she growled as she slammed the button again, the flashing warning so fast it was nearly solid. The hatch hitched and twitched. Using all her strength, Liz shoved her shoulders against the misbehaving mechanism. With a metallic pop, it gave all at once. Liz spilled awkwardly onto the crumbling pavement. Without any though, she righted herself and ran for the first cover just as the fusion core erupted. A wall of heat, radiation and shrapnel blasted her. Even though her ears rang, Liz thanked her stars that not only was she impervious to the radiation, but that she had reinforced her grease monkey suit with ballistic weave. Peeking over the pile of rubble, she cursed. While the gate had been breached, there was only enough of a clearance for their forces to file in single file.

Guess those Brotherhood bastards knew how to build shit. Liz grabbed a smoke grenade from a pouch and pulled the pin. One more hit should do it, of those Minutemen bastards can actually hit it this time. She threw it at the ground in front of the smoldering wreckage of her armor. A flash of color next to her caught her attention. It was a Pack member. They returned fire, covering her as she sat. She was disappointed it wasn’t Mason, but it gave her a moment to catch her breath.

Liz still couldn’t hear anything, but she tried as best she could to impress upon her underling that artillery was incoming before putting her fingers in the corners in her mouth and attempting to whistling as loud as she could.  Mama answered her call, appearing like a giant bloody glowing angel out of the chaos.

With one swift move, Liz grabbed onto Mama’s armor and hauled herself onto her back. She fit perfectly into the saddle slipped in between Mama’s jutting dorsal spikes. Liz spurred her mount away from the front. The handful of few small arms she had stashed strategically among Mama’s armor wasn’t going to cut it. She needed something with a bigger punch. A helmet might be nice, too. No need for some pimply scribe to get lucky with a headshot. She was looking for some nearby peon she could pull rank on when she heard something that took her by complete surprise.

“I AM LIBERTY PRIME. I AM… AMERICA.”

#beastly kingdom #fan fiction #fanfic #fallout #liz rosa #ao3 #Ghoul #nuka world #brotherhood of steel #battle

[meetthetank]

Peccatum Chapter 9: March

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454675/chapters/33391545

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationships: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata), A2/A4 (NieR: Automata), Jackass/The Commander (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), A2 (NieR: Automata), A4 (NieR: Automata), 6O (NieR: Automata), 21O, Jackass (NieR: Automata), The Commander (NieR: Automata) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe, genre typical violence, long fic, Slow Burn, War

“So you shat your pants?” 11S asks.

The other scouts at the table can’t help but laugh at 9S, who buries his face in his arms in an attempt to make himself as small as possible.

“No! I keep telling you I didn’t shit my pants!” he yells just loud enough for the whole mess tent to hear him. He catches a glimpse of 2B giving him an odd look before he sinks into himself more, “She just...We were sparring and she won and I got embarrassed. That’s it!”

“Oooh no, that’s not it,” 801S, an older scout, says with a sly grin, “You were all sweaty, squirming, acting all hot and bothered.”

“I was not!!”

“Yes, you were!” 801S’ singsong voice makes 9S groan, “Did getting your ass kicked by a lovely lady...excite you? Is our Nines a little deviant?”

9S feels his face flush beet red, prompting a round of laughter from the table, “I’m gonna kick your ass if you don’t stop!!”

“What a story this will be!” shouts 42S, an aspiring bard, “9S, the young scout with a troubled past, returns from his northern excursion with an exotic and mysterious Coatyl woman! Her beauty only matched by her ferocity! A simple sparring match goes awry when things become deliciously heated and they-”

“That is if 6O doesn’t snatch her up first.” mutters 32S.

The table erupts into laughter once again. Fed up with their antics, 9S abruptly stands up and tries to make a hasty exit from the mess tent.

“Attention!!”

The bellowing voice of Commander White stops him in his tracks and silences the tent of hungry soldiers in an instant. Her steely gaze scans the tent to make certain she has everyone’s full attention.

“Tomorrow at dawn,” she begins, “We will be beginning our march towards Vigo.”

Murmurs ripple through the mess tent.

“I realize this is a month earlier than when we had planned originally, but we have received word that an aquatic demon of unknown size has been sighted in the bay. All ship traffic has been halted until the demon is either destroyed or moves on.”

Again, she waits until the muttering amongst the soldiers comes to a stop.

“Our task remains the same, however. We will assist Vigo in the evacuation of civilians, defending refugee camps, and transportation of supplies. The only thing that’s changed as of now is when we’re expected. Dismissed.”

The moment Commander White turns to exit the tent, conversation erupts from all the tables. All except the scouts, who share concerned looks with each other. Even 9S returns to his seat, his annoyance with the others quickly abandoned.

“A demon in the bay? What do you think it could be?” 32S mutters.

“Maybe a siren type?”

“I thought those were smaller…”

“They can get big, I’ve read reports of one that was the size of a mammoth.”

“That wouldn’t be enough to shut down a whole trade city.”

“Maybe it’s just a whale?”

“Whale’s don’t come into bays, dumbass.”

“What if…” 9S says, staring through his friends, “What if it’s something new?”

The others give him odd looks, “What do you mean, new?” 11S asks.

“I mean what if this is something we haven’t seen before? An aquatic siege engine type? Transport type? Or maybe some weird whale hybrid they’re trying to roll out.”

“...If it’s that, how in the world would we get rid of it?” 801S rubs his chin in thought.

9S shrugs, “Dunno, but that’s not really our job, is it?”

“No, but I’m gonna guess you’re gonna try and find out what the plan is,” he says with a grin.

“I won’t be doing anything if you lot don’t keep your mouths shut.” he growls.

The scouts ease back into their normal conversations, mainly complaints about the early start tomorrow. Before he gets drawn back into the group, he spots 2B on her way out and gives her a small wave. She returns his gesture, and he can’t help the wide smile that spreads across his face.

“Have you ever been to Vigo, 2B?” 6O asks as they exit the mess tent.

“-M made a point t’ stay away fr-...m human settlements.” she responds with a mouthful of potatoes, “There were too many stories we were told as cubs of Coatyls being hunted for sport or paraded around circuses.”

“Right…” 6O sighs, “so, does that mean you’re not gonna stick around when we get to Vigo?”

“I...I’m not sure yet. I still don’t have a good lead on where A2 is. Maybe this city will have something.”

“You think they might be hiding out in Vigo?”

“Or someone that may have seen something.”

“You’re not seriously going to ask every person in the city if they’ve seen them, are you?” There’s a hint of genuine concern in 6O’s voice that makes 2B huff, “Well when you say it out loud…”

6O giggles and playfully jabs her in the side. “I’m just teasing you. I’ll help you ask around when I’m off duty.”

2B mutters a quick thanks, then quickly looks over her shoulder as the laughter of the scouts' echoes through the tent. For such small men, they could certainly be quite loud.

“Well, we’d be glad to have you stick around with us, 2B. I know there would be some of us that would be sad to see you go.”

“Hm...Perhaps.”

  True to her word, Commander White’s wake up call came before the sun had begun to rise. Or rather, Lieutenant Jackass’ wake up call. She parades around the camp, slamming two iron cooking pans together and shouting as loud as her lungs will allow. One by one, annoyed soldiers emerge from the tents, only to be immediately assigned a task to break down the camp. Within minutes, activity surges through the encampment and it begins to disappear, packed into crates and carriages, piece by piece. The sun is just cresting over the horizon by the time there’s nothing left but a worn down patch of dirt.

9S and the other scouts are assigned to helping the stablehands with the horses. They hitch up the temperamental beasts with little resistance. Despite being bred for war, they seem to sense that something is about to change and need to be calmed down with pats and bribery treats every so often. 9S isn’t too bothered, however. He’s been around horses as long as he can remember; their bizarre behaviors comes as no surprise to him. In fact, they seem to be fairly comfortable around him, one of the large chestnut geldings even nibbles at his hair to get a laugh out of him.

2B, on the other hand, does not mix well with horses.

With her dragonic strength, she volunteered herself to lift some of the heavier crates. Things that would take two or three full-grown men to lift, she would carry like it was nothing. Occasionally, 9S will stop in his tracks as he watches her heft box after box into a carriage, with 6O standing close by cheering her on.

Other times he watches her try to pat the dappled mare that’s hitched to the carriage she’s loading, only for the agitated beast to try and bite off her fingers. She squawks and leaps back, yelling profanities and jumping between common and a strange language 9S presumes to be dragonic. The mare, of course, doesn’t yell back. She just snorts and shakes her head at nothing in particular while 2B hisses at her.

It’s...much less impressive than watching her feats of strength.

Still, he can’t help but laugh. It makes her seem far less intimidating. Endearing, even. It’s nice to see she’s not always so dour and serious, or at least not the point that she isn’t above arguing with a horse.

She really is something...

He snorts as 6O eventually steps between the huffy Coatyl and the horse as if she’s separating two brawlers. They’re too far away for him to hear the conversation fully, but he swears he hears 6O telling 2B that she would lose that fight. 9S makes a mental note to tease her about this later. For now, though, he has a list of tasks to deal with, including helping his mother load fifteen cages of ornery ravens into carts.

Being the unofficial assistant to a healer means 2B is volunteered to help sick and injured soldiers into a cramped carriage set to be in the middle of the march. Her strength makes lifting full grown men easy, but 6O and the other healers have to guide her into not jostling broken limbs and tender stitching too much.

By the time the army would normally be settling in for breakfast, they begin the march towards Vigo. By 21O’s rough estimation they would reach the city within the week, but they would have to keep a quick pace. Traveling alone is one thing, but traveling with the entire company is another. No falling behind or rushing ahead. Everything must be in time with each other, otherwise, the whole caravan would fall apart. Commander White rides at the front, flanked by Jackass and several high ranking officers. Behind them, most of the army keeps pace with supply carriages dotted within the ranks. A troop of the best performing soldiers brings up the rear as a precaution against surprise attacks.

However, a solid mile ahead of the main army, the scouts travel in a loose and unsuspecting band, with one addition. 2B circles above them, flying ahead for a mile or so and then doubling back to circle a few times, then repeating the process. She insisted on staying with the scouts despite the protests of 9S. He did not take too kindly to her pointing out that they were small and easily targeted by anything larger than a house cat. She was right, but she didn’t have to say it so harshly…If a fight did break out, having a dragon overhead would be an incredible boon.

He could do without the teasing, though.

“You’re a lucky little bastard, you know that?” 11S says as 2B circles their group.

9S looks up at his friend and sighs, “What?”

“You know what people would give to have a godsdamned dragon be interested in them?”

He feels his cheeks heat up, “She’s not interested in me.”

“Why is she literally hovering above you, though?”

“Cause we’re easy targets!”

“Getting a bit defensive there, aren’t ya, Nines?” 801S says with a sly smile.

“Yeah, you’re not subtle there, buddy.” adds 11S. “It’s pretty obvious what’s going on.”

“And what exactly is ‘going on’?” 9S huffs.

“You fancy her.”

9S sputters and stops in his tracks, “I d-...Bu-....Y-...Shut up! She can probably hear you!”

801S cackles and 9S swears he sees 2B’s head tilt downward before she soars on ahead once more.

“So you do!”

“Well it’s obvious isn’t it?!” 9S growls. “I mean, you’ve seen her, she’s gorgeous and strong and-!”

He feels a roiling in his stomach at the admission of his feelings coming to light. It’s nonsensical though! It’s not like he’s about to propose to her, he’s just admitting to finding her attractive. So why does it feel like he’s about to vomit?!

“Tell her then,” 32S mumbles bluntly.

“Are you mad?! No! She’d eat me alive!”

“She didn’t eat you alive when you got a hard-on from her kicking your ass, that means she likes you, right?” 42S says to himself mostly.

“I did not-!!” 9S takes a deep breath and tries to calm his embarrassment before he ends up shouting loud enough for the Commander to hear, “...Look, so what if I do...fancy her, there’s no way she’d ever give a moment of her time to someone like me.”

801S gives him a sideways glare, “What the hell are you talking about, 9S?”

“2B’s the kind of person who’d end up with a legendary hero or something, not some scrawny half-breed.”

“You might not be entirely wrong, but there’s plenty of self-made heroes in this army,” 801S says with nothing but sincerity in his voice. “Yet she’s spending her time with you.”

“And 6O,” 42S adds quickly.

“And 6O but, let's face it, Nines. 6O is more likely to be your new step-mom than she is to snatch up 2B.”

“Hey, wait a second, what the hell does that mean?!”

Their conversation switches in the blink of an eye and as 9S gets drawn into another round of teasing, he sees 2B flying a bit closer to the ground than before. Their eyes meet for a brief moment, and in an instant, she’s soaring ahead of the group once more.

9S feels his stomach drop and flutter at the same time.

#nier automata #nier fanfiction #fanfiction #fantasy au #2B #9S #6O #801S #2B9S

[notquitedickens]

Teacher (Isaac Lahey x reader)

This was written on my phone so please excuse any grammatical errors.

(Not my gif)

”Jesus fucking Christ, Hale.” I glared. ”Start telling your pack about things rather than throwing them like soldiers in world war one. They are teenagers if you haven't forgotten. You haven't told them about anything other than the full moon and their abilities so every time trouble comes along they'll be lost and confused. You know what that makes them? Weak.”

Derek glared at me, squaring me up as Peter chuckled. ”She is right, you know.” He took a step closer to the two of us. ”Part of being an alpha is teaching your betas. You can't just chain them up every full moon.”

”Why did I have to befriend the siren.” Derek rolled his eyes and backed away.

“Because you love me.” I grinned, watching Isaac turn away from the symbol and look at me in shock. ”You didn't even tell him I was a siren? Wow.”

“I don’t know about the first part.” He jokes pushing me gently, moving to go into the house.

“I was expecting that.” I sighed, following him.

”Just explain to Isaac what's going on if in so damn terrible at being an alpha.” He called back to me, pushing Isaac back down the stairs.

”Leaving me to do your jobs again, Hale? That's low.”

”But you love me.” He mocked, slamming the door.

I turned to look at the boy in question - who was now glaring at the shut door from his spot on the ground at the base of the stairs - and rolled my eyes. He groaned as he collapsed back onto the leaves, the sound similar to the crunch his body made when coming in contact with the ground. It was odd, the sound soothed his anger in a way, a smile lighting up his previously scrunched face. It was nice to see him smile, genuinely smile. Half the time it was sarcastic and the other half it was forced. He thought he was good at hiding it, and to be fair, he was. It's just hard to hide your emotions from someone who was trained to read between the lines to manipulate the person. Raised a siren. Raised with the ability to read people. I looked at the boy one last time before looking through the window of the old Hale house.

I could see Derek smirking at me as I put my middle finger up at him while heading over to pick up Isaac. I held my hand out to the boy, kicking him slightly when he ignored it. He glared at me before taking my hand. I pulled him up with one hand despite his efforts to yank me down to join him on the ground as revenge. I rolled my eyes at his childishness when he ended up picking me up bridal style. I wondered what had gotten into him. He was acting so much more childish than normal, his anxiety gone, making the most of the time where he could act like a child, the times that he missed when he was a child. That's why I let him pick me up. He wouldn't have the time to mess around for a long time and he hadn't had it anyway. I hooked my arms around his neck, enjoying the method of transport while I could.

”So, are you going to tell me what's going on?” He asked, setting me down beside my car at the end of the forest.

”When a new alpha comes to town, so does the alpha pack.”

”A pack of alphas?” He cut in.

”No, a pack of omegas. Yes, a pack of alphas dumbass. They are here for the alpha. Presumably. You never know with them but you can be sure that they'll start hell within the supernatural community in Beacon Hills. More specifically, the werewolf community.” I ran my hand through my hair. ”Just be careful. Stay out of trouble and stay out of the hospital.”

“I can heal why would I be in the hospital?”

“Lahey, what the fuck did you do?” I snapped as I entered the loft.

I could see Derek smirk out of the corner of my eye. Isaac and I had gotten close over the last few months ever since Derek made it my responsibility to explain things because he didn't want to. I knew that he did this on purpose, thinking it would irritate me to the point of leaving him alone but it did the opposite. I was at his loft every night hanging out with Isaac. It started as a way to get him back but then I actually bonded with Isaac. He was sweet and nice and a sarcastic piece of shit. The two of us would stay up and study until late at night while playing ridiculously loud music. Derek couldn't say anything because he knew that it was his fault. Although, he did know that Isaac had a friend, a new friend now that his pack members were missing.

”Lahey… I'm not going to kill you I promise.” I sighed listening out for his heartbeat that was rising rapidly, slowly following it up the stairs to where Isaac was.

I entered the room to see him curled up on the bed in a right ball, sobs shaking his body every few seconds. I quickly pulled him into my arms, whispering soft words. He calmed down slightly, nails retracting away from his palms again and gripping onto my jacket once he had healed. He knew, even then that I would murder him if he got blood on my jacket. I kissed his forehead and pulled him closer until he could breathe properly. I brushed the hair out of his face as he opened his eyes.

”Thanks.” He mumbled untangling himself from my grip. ”Panic attack.”

”Caused by what put you in the hospital?” He nodded in response. ”Do you want to talk about it? I'm not mad at you I promise.”

”I… I don't know… It was the alpha pack.” He mumbled, letting me move closer to him again.

”Anything we can do to take your mind off of things?” I asked, holding his hand and eyeing the controllers in the corner of the room.

He didn't respond with words but he kissed me. His lips were barely touching mine but they were. He was scared and tentative. His heartbeat was racing but slowed a little when I kissed him back. His hand came up to the back of my neck, leading the kiss so both of us fall back into the bed. I pulled away and chuckled.

”Why are you laughing?”

”We are acting like those couples in teen movies.” I grinned. ”I'm not opposed to it though.”

He grinned, pulling me back in for a kiss.

#teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf x reader #derek hale x reader #isaac lahey #derek hale #isaac lahey x reader #peter hale #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #allison argent

[andreaphobia]

fic: love is just another game for two. (SHINO & YAMAGI)

Characters: Shino/Yamagi, Eugene, Mikazuki, Akihiro, Orga

Fandom: Mobile Suit Gundam IRON-BLOODED ORPHANS

Wordcount: ~4500

Summary: Shino gets hooked on an MMO, and one day he meets a mage who may or may not be the cute guy from the dining hall.

Notes:

For @skyfireflies, who got me to watch this show in the first place. Also, my first Gundams ever! Hooray!

Also on AO3, if you prefer.

*

So when Shino comes slouching into class on Monday morning, puffy-eyed and bleary, Eugene doesn't even need to ask why—but that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it, either.

“I'm gonna give Orga a piece of my mind,” he mutters, as Shino collapses heavily into the seat next to him.

“Ah?” Shino yawns, scratching an unkempt chin. “Why’s that?”

“Because he got you into that damn game, that’s why! And now you’re up all night playing it, you fall asleep in lecture and then you beg for my notes, and I’m telling you now, if you want me to be your private tutor, you better start coughing up cold hard cash for the privilege, 'cause it don’t come free.”

“Oh, come on,” Shino says, grinning apologetically. “You’re being dramatic. I don’t play half as much as Mika, anyway.” Which was true; Mika had hit level cap weeks ago, and God only knew what he kept himself busy with to while he was waiting for everyone else to catch up.

(To be fair, Eugene knew this because he was also playing Art of War Online—but at least he had some self control.)

“Besides, I wasn’t up late last night just playing. I was talking to someone.”

Suspicious, Eugene narrows his eyes. “In game, you mean?”

“Well... yeah.” Shino grins again. “They were nice. Real friendly-like.”

To this, Eugene can only put his face in his hands. “I can’t believe you’re even trying to pick up girls in a video game.”

“Hey, I don’t appreciate that! I think we had a real connection, you know?” Shino seems to reflect on this for a moment. “Besides, I don’t even know if it was a girl. Their character was a guy, at least.”

“Dude, they’re probably more likely to be a guy if they have a female avatar,” Eugene scoffs. “Do you know anything about online games?”

“Guess not,” Shino says cheerfully, “but at least I'm making friends!”

Eugene is about to retort when the professor comes bumbling into the room, hitting the pause button on their conversation, and soon Shino is out like a light, snoring gently with his head lolling on his seat back. He rouses himself occasionally, just long enough to jot down a couple of formulas or a tidbit of knowledge, before passing out again, and proceeds in this fashion until the bell rings at the end of the period.

As Eugene tucks his books and notes away, Shino stretches, smacking his lips noisily and giving his head a little shake. He crams his stuff unceremoniously into his backpack, and beams at Eugene.

“Up for lunch?”

Eugene grins at him. “Yeah, if it’s on you.”

“Tightass,” Shino grumbles. He pulls out his wallet and peers into it as if that proves something, but Eugene only rolls his eyes; since meals at the dormitory dining hall are paid for on a point system, he’s not feeling much sympathy.

“Nah,” he says, as he follows Shino out of the lecture hall. “I’m just resourceful, that’s all.”

*

At the dining hall, Shino picks up a plate of three eggs, four sausages, and a steaming great heap of baked beans. Eugene, sensible as usual, has a complete meal from the Chinese food stall; rice, chicken, some wilted vegetables on the side. Healthy, Shino thinks—unless you’re trying to bulk up, in which case he’d consider it anemic, plain and simple.

“You sure you don’t want some more protein with that meal?” Eugene says mildly, glancing at Shino’s breakfast-themed abomination as they pay for their food. (In exchange for access to Eugene’s notes, Shino is bankrolling the entire meal with his point card.)

“Eh.” Immune to sarcasm, Shino glances down at his overloaded plate. “I think this’ll tide me over till dinner.”

They pass through the checkout line together, heading out into the hall proper. Scanning over the crowd of heads parked at various tables, Eugene spots who he’s looking for.

“Hey, Orga and the others are over there.”

Unfortunately for him, Shino’s not listening. Halfway through trying to figure out where the group Eugene mentioned is sitting, he gets distracted by the sight of something that’s very high on the short list of things that he finds interesting at the moment.

“Ohhh, is that Art of War Online?”

The blonde boy Shino’s addressing stops dead, fork halfway to his mouth. He’s wearing a look reminiscent of a caged animal. In front of him is a tablet, resting on a stand and playing what looks like someone’s live stream of a game.

“It is, isn’t it?” Shino says proudly. (He knows something about that now, after all.) “It’s fun, huh?”

“Um,” the boy says, immediately going red. He looks vaguely familiar; Shino thinks he must have seen him around the dorms, once or twice. The most striking thing about him is the length of his bangs. Shino wonders how he can see through that curtain of hair. (Nice eyes, though.)

He’s just on the verge of following that interesting chain of thought wherever it may lead when Eugene pops up, having finally noticed that he’s wandered astray. “You’re bugging strangers about that damn game now? Give it a rest.” He nods to the boy. “Sorry. Don’t mind my friend, he’s a frickin’ dumbass.“

“We should play together sometime,” Shino says brightly, as Eugene starts dragging him away. The boy does not respond; he’s staring intently at his hands resting in his lap, bright red all the way to the backs of his ears. Kinda cute, actually.

Once they’re out of earshot of the kid, Eugene finally releases his arm and lets him walk on his own.

“‘samatter with you? Don’t bother people when they’re eating.”

Shino beams. “I’m just making friends!”

“You didn’t even ask for his name.”

“Oh, you’re right!” He’s about to turn back and ask when Eugene seizes his arm again, with an exasperated grin.

“I don’t think so.” He steers Shino firmly over to the table where Orga, Mika, and Akihiro are already seated, and strong-arms him into a chair. “Give the poor guy a break.”

“Okay, okay.” Shino laughs, putting his hands up in surrender.

Akihiro’s looking between the two of them with interest. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, you know...” Eugene mutters, plopping down into his own chair. “Just Shino things.”

Mika, who barely seemed to have noticed they’d arrived, finally looks up from his plate. Mouth full of food and still chewing, he asks, “So, when are you guys getting to 60? It’s boring being the only one.”

*

At the end of the day, after class and several abortive attempts to do homework, Shino gives in to the siren call and logs on to the game. (Another good thing: Eugene is out doing honor society crap, so he’s not around to give Shino any grief about this.)

It’s gratifying to hear the loading screen music, but it still takes way too long for him to get into the game; he’s got to look into getting something better than a potato to play it on.

The first thing he does when he finally loads in is check his friends list to see who’s around. Akihiro’s online, but currently in a dungeon, according to his status; Shino kindly decides not to bother him. Mika, surprisingly, is not—then again, it’s almost dinner time, so maybe not that surprising after all. The only thing that boy loves as much as dominating everyone at video games is eating.

And then there’s—Shino’s stomach does a weird little flip when he sees this—his new friend, in an area pretty near him. Which makes sense, since they were just playing together the night before, but is also really convenient.

He’s just wondering how desperate it would seem to message the guy when the problem is solved for him. A whisper appears in his chat box, followed by a party invitation.

<Newt> Want to party up? <shinon> yeah!

There’s a little bit of logistical back-and-forth after he accepts the invite, but eventually they decide to meet up at Goldshire, and venture out from there. Even though they’d had a time of it last night, Shino’s still surprised by how easy the conversation flows; this guy—or girl—is really easy to get along with. (Let’s say guy for now, Shino decides, going by the avatar; if only to make his internal monologue less confusing to himself.)

It shouldn’t surprise him they get along, though, considering the circumstances of their meeting. He’d been neck-deep in kobolds at the bottom of Fargodeep mine and was mentally steeling himself for his demise when this mage just appeared out of nowhere, saving his ass with a couple of well-timed fireballs. But then all the heat was on the mage, and just as he was about to be overwhelmed, Shino got ‘em back with some good ol’ healing holy light. And you know, maybe this is just Shino being sentimental, but personally he thinks it’s hard to save each other’s butts at the bottom of a cave and not become friends. That kind of thing is a real bonding experience!

So anyway, they get to questing together, and everything’s going smoothly—as much as it can, anyway, considering he’s only been playing for a few weeks and is still learning the ropes, leading to occasional disasters like pulling way too many monsters at the same time, then proceeding to fall off a cliff in the process of trying to escape them. But Newt’s real patient with him; in fact—and Shino hopes he can be forgiven for thinking this, but—he's acting kind of... cute. Lots of jumping around, throwing up a little music note emote every time they kill something. Even through a video game, the cheer is infectious.

<shinon> u seem like ur in a good mood :)

The mage stops prancing around long enough to reply,

<Newt> yeah, kinda, actually! Something awesome happened to me today!

Shino smiles at his screen, and then, quite laboriously, types back.

<shinon> wanna tell me abt it?

Art of War doesn’t have a particularly good emote system, yet Shino is amazed by the expressiveness of what happens next. The mage turns abruptly to look at his character, and then steps back and forth a few times, making movements that Shino can only describe as fidgeting.

<Newt> OK, but... promise you won’t laugh? <shinon> dont worry, i can barely type ‘lol’ <Newt> ;) <Newt> OK, so... I know this is gonna sound really silly, but... the guy I like talked to me today!!

Shino’s eyes immediately fixate on that line.

“The guy you like, huh...?” he muses. (It’s too bad Eugene isn’t there, ‘cause he’d be interested to know how this affects the odds on Newt’s true identity.)

Oblivious to whatever Shino might be thinking, Newt is standing stock still, busy typing up a storm.

<Newt> I was just sitting by myself watching someone’s stream when he came up and started talking to me about Art of War! And OK, I think I must have looked really dumb because I couldn’t say anything back to him, but ahhh he’s just so nice!! <Newt> He probably doesn’t even remember this but there was this one time some guys were bothering me in the street outside my dorm and he and his friends scared them off, and he just looked SO COOL!

Shino reads through this small wall of text, and actually his first thought is, well, sounds like a friendly chap!

His second thought is, Hmmm.

Come to think of it, he had thought the boy at the dining hall looked familiar. And yes, he vaguely recalls now a time when Mika and Akihiro and him were coming back from the gym late at night, found some kid getting pushed around by jerks and scared ‘em off... but... could it be?

While he’s busy digesting all of this, Newt appears to take his silence the wrong way.

<Newt> Omg, I’m sorry, I’m just babbling on and on, this is probably boring you... <shinon> na, i was just thinking that sounds rly sweet <shinon> so, r u going to ask him out?

Newt, the character, starts fidgeting again. So cute, Shino thinks.

<Newt> No, I couldn’t possibly... I’m too shy... <Newt> But maybe someday <shinon> u know what they say <shinon> u miss 100 % of the shots u dont take <Newt> Thanks ;) <Newt> crap, my roommate wants to get dinner, I g2g. Can you get back to town by yourself? <shinon> no sweat buddy <shinon> cu l8r <Newt> See you!

With Newt gone, Shino leans back in his chair and stares at the ceiling.

Well... shit.

*

Whatever Eugene had been expecting on his return to their shared dorm room, it certainly wasn’t this.

“So,” he says, once Shino has finished talking and gesticulating wildly. “Let me get this straight. You think that that kid you were accosting in the dining hall the other day, and your new virtual-reality best friend, are the same person?”

He’s skeptical, and who can blame him? Not that this puts a damper on Shino's enthusiasm; if anything it only seems to encourage him.

“Yeah, pretty much,” he says brightly. “Why?”

Eugene squints at him.

“This is just an excuse for you to bother that kid more, isn’t it?”

“No!” Shino pauses. “But now that you mention it, actually—”

“Look, I know you’re not a math genius, but what do you think the odds of that are? Like, one in a thousand? One in a million? Even if he does play, what makes you think you guys are on the same server?”

“Man, I dunno!” Clearly frustrated by Eugene’s superior logic, Shino throws himself back onto his bed. “Why’d Orga make Tekkadan on this server, anyway?”

“It—” Eugene sputters. “Well, it’s—okay, fine, I forgot that it’s the official server for people from our school until a second ago, but—still! That makes the odds, like, one in a hundred at best.”

“One in a hundred, huh?” Shino appears to be giving this some serious thought; from his expression, Eugene can tell that that doesn’t sound half bad to him. “I’d take those odds.”

Eugene throws his hands up in disgust. “Remind me never to put you in charge of my bank account.”

“Hey, it’s your loss,” says Shino, waggling his eyebrows. (Eugene ignores this entirely.)

“Anyway, so let’s say you’re right and it really is the same guy. So what?”

Once again, Shino has to give this thought, but this answer seems to come easier than the last one.

“I just wanna get to know him, man. That’s not a bad thing, is it?”

“No, but—” Eugene wavers; he’s not sure if Shino’s potential love life is something he ought to be commenting on, but... “Didn’t he say he likes you...?” he ventures.

This makes no discernible impression on Shino. “Yeah, and?”

“And... I mean...” For a few more moments, Eugene falters, and then decides that maybe the best course of action is to just let it go. There’s no changing Shino’s mind once it’s made up, after all. “Look, just... be nice to him, okay?”

“I’m nice!” Shino insists. “I’m a nice guy, you don’t even have to worry about that. Like, what could go wrong?”

Probably best not to answer that, Eugene thinks. Well, at least Shino won’t be able to complain he didn’t warn him.

*

It takes Shino a while to find the kid, elusive as he is, but he happens to be passing by the library one day when he spots a certain mop of blonde hair, bent over a textbook that’s thick enough to kill a man with. When he lifts it up to turn a page, Shino can just barely make out the title on the cover: Fundamentals of Fluid Mechanics, it says.

Jesus. Well, as long as the guy doesn’t expect him to know any of that as a prerequisite, Shino figures he’s golden. So he rolls right up, barely mindful of the fact that it’s a library, stops by the table the kid’s sitting at, and when he looks up, gives him a big ol’ ear-to-ear grin.

“Hi! We met the other day—well, kinda—but I wanted to introduce myself properly.” He sticks out a hand. “I’m Norba Shino, but you can just call me Shino. Everyone does.”

“I know,” says the boy in a small voice.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.” To Shino’s great surprise and gratitude, the boy only hesitates a moment before shaking his hand. “Yamagi Gilmerton.”

“Yamagi, huh...?” Shino nods, quite seriously; names are a serious business, after all. “Sorry about the other day, I’m just really excited about this game. Started playing a couple weeks ago and I’m totally hooked!”

Yamagi is watching him with an inscrutable expression, all the more so because Shino can only see one of his eyes. As far as Shino can tell, though, Yamagi doesn’t look annoyed or bored, so in his opinion, things are going just swell.

“...It’s okay.”

There, he said it’s okay! How you like that, Eugene? Shino says in his head, triumphantly. He doesn’t gloat for too long, though, since Yamagi is looking at him expectantly.

“So, are you on—what’s it called—Dark Iron? That’s the server everyone from our school is at, right?”

“...Yeah.”

Shino grins. “Great! So we could play together sometime, right?” At this point he also takes care to turn on what one ex-girlfriend called a ‘killer set of puppy-dog eyes’, making Yamagi go beet red again. Totally adorable.

“...Sure.”

“Awesome. Lend me a pen, I’ll give you my character name.”

From inside a backpack bulging with books and notes, Yamagi locates a pen which he holds out hesitantly. Shino takes it, and also seizes Yamagi’s hand—ignoring the little gasp of surprise that this causes—and writes his screen name across Yamagi’s palm, in big block letters. Then he pushes both hand and the pen back to Yamagi.

“OK, so you can use this to find me, right?”

However, Yamagi isn’t listening, and Shino realizes that something’s not right. Instead of—say—nodding, which would probably have been Shino’s preferred response, Yamagi is staring at the letters reading SHINON scrawled across his palm, shock and horror written all over his face.

“Uh... Yamagi?” Shino tries.

The next moment is a blur. Yamagi seizes his bag and his book and promptly legs it out of there, very nearly overturning his chair as he does so.

“Hey—wait!”

Shino attempts to go after him, but then actually overturns a chair in the process, which trips someone else holding a stack of books in their arms, all of which go flying. By the time he’s disentangled himself from this mess, picked up all the books, and apologized to everyone (including the incensed librarian), Yamagi is long gone.

Later, as the sun is setting and he’s standing outside the library alone, Shino says a couple of choice swear words, loud enough to startle a few nearby pigeons. He doesn’t really have a clue what the hell’s going on, but looking at it logically, chances are that it has to do with... whatever Eugene was waffling on about earlier.

Damn it. He hates it when Eugene is right. Well, maybe he can just apologize for whatever it is he did later, in game. Surely Yamagi doesn’t hold grudges forever, right?

*

However, Yamagi doesn’t show up in Art of War that night, nor the next. A couple of days go by, and though Shino tries to play on his own, he finds that it isn’t half as fun without his questing partner. This leads us into the present: Eugene bent over homework at his desk and trying to block Shino out, until finally, he snaps.

“Stop moaning,” he scolds, as Shino’s rolling around in his bed whining. “You’re driving me nuts.”

“Can’t help it,” Shino mutters. “Sooooo bored. Wanna play Art of War.”

“So play already.”

“I don’t wanna play if Yamagi’s not there!”

“Yamagi?” Something clicks into place. “Oh, you mean that kid from the other day?” Shino doesn’t answer, which he takes to mean ‘yes’. “Isn’t he still playing?”

“I’unno.” Shino sounds sullen; from long experience, Eugene knows this is never a good sign.

“Did you scare him off?”

“No!” A pause. “Maybe. Not intentionally, though!”

Eugene puts down his pencil, sighing. Relationship advice is not his forte, and yet, here they are. “I told you to be nice, man.”

“I was nice!” Then, more doubtful, he adds, “At least, I think I was.”

Eugene can’t help himself; he sighs out loud. It’s hard to believe he needs to walk Shino through every step of this.

“Yeah,” he says, patiently, “but he likes you, right? And you rejected him.”

“I didn’t reject him! I said we should totally play together, and then I gave him my character’s name, and then he freaked the fuck out and ran off! Look...” Shino trails off, sounding dejected. “I don’t even know, man.”

“Dude, of course he freaked out. He spent like an hour gushing about his crush, TO his crush. Can you not see how embarrassing that might be?”

This all seems like it’s coming as news to Shino, but he at least gives it some thought. Finally: “I guess,” he says, in a reluctant tone of voice. “But I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I think it’s cute.”

If Eugene rolls his eyes any harder, they’re gonna fall right out of their sockets. “OK, then go ask him out already so I don’t have to listen to your whining. I have stuff to do.”

“Maybe I will!” Shino rolls himself out of bed in a huff, going to the door.

Well, Eugene thinks, as it slams shut behind him, either way, at least I’ll get some peace and quiet for a while.

*

If he’d thought it was hard locating Yamagi the first time around, the second nearly kills him. OK, that’s melodramatic, but even though he likes exercise it’s still a pain in the ass to be running all over campus trying to spot him in the crowd. After a few fruitless days of this, Eugene takes pity on him and gives him some advice—try looking in common areas or at the dining hall, he says, places he has to pass through no matter what. And it’s good advice, but all the same, nearly a week goes by with neither hide nor hair of Yamagi, by which time Shino is basically dying from Art of War withdrawal.

And just when he thinks he can’t take anymore—when he’s honest-to-God starting to think he should quit the game because it just ain’t worth it anymore—that’s when a knock comes at the door to his room.

“Nnngh,” Shino moans half-heartedly, face down in his pillow on his bed. “Go ‘way.”

The knock comes again, more insistent. Grumbling, Shino gets up, and goes to open it.

When he does, Yamagi is there.

Shino stares at him for a moment. The relief he’s feeling is almost palpable; it washes all the tension out of once, and he feels himself smiling the first real smile he’s had on his face for days.

Still, it won’t do to be scaring him off again, so he tries to sound casual when he says, “Hey, man, I’ve been looking all over for you! Are you okay? You haven’t logged on in a week, I was worried!”

Yamagi only shrugs, refusing to meet Shino’s eyes. There’s a strange, closed-off look on his face. He’s quiet for a moment, and then sucks in a deep breath and starts speaking, maybe a little too loud for how close they are.

“I’m sorry about—about everything. I know you’re probably weirded out by the things I said, and... I’m... sorry... about them.”

He stops there, as though in the middle of a thought, and his eyes are half-shut, almost like he’s expecting Shino to lash out. Which is such a crazy idea that Shino doesn’t even know what to do about it, except try and change his mind.

“Nah, not really,” he says, easily. “I mean—it’s cool, right?”

Yamagi blinks once, very slowly.

“What do you mean... ‘it’s cool’?”

“Just what it sounds like. It’s cool, man! I don’t mind.”

“But...” Yamagi looks slightly bewildered. “Don’t you? I mean... that was you the whole time, right?”

“Yeah, that was me.” Shino chuckles. “How come you didn’t realize that, huh? I even named my character after myself!”

Yamagi goes red. “Well, who—who puts their real name in their screen name these days? What about stranger danger, huh?!”

“Strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet!” Shino beams. “Besides, I couldn’t think of a good name. It’s hard, okay?”

For a moment Yamagi looks like he wants to laugh, but also like he’s simultaneously on the verge of tears.

“But I typed all that stupid crap about you!”

Shino holds up his hands disarmingly. “No, it was cute! Seriously, it’s fine.”

“But—” By now, he’s almost shouting. “But I like you, Shino!”

“Yeah, I like you too!”

In sheer frustration, Yamagi runs his hands back through his own hair, mussing it up until it looks quite wild.

“No—listen to me! I mean—like like. I don’t just—”  

“I know what you meant,” Shino says.

This simple sentence is apparently enough to leave Yamagi speechless, and given that he’s not shouting anymore, Shino seizes the chance to speak.

“I’m—what’s that you call it? Oh yeah! I swing both ways, man. I mean, people are just people, right? So it’s all good. Let’s just keep playing, okay?”

“But—”

“No buts!” Shino scratches his chin, thoughtful for a moment. Then he reaches out, brushing Yamagi’s hair back out of his eyes so they can really see each other. “And let’s get dinner sometime too, okay?” He grins. “Just you and me.”

Yamagi just stands there, closing and opening his mouth without a word as he tries to process all of this. Then, as though he barely dares to believe it, he asks, “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Well, that’s the idea!” Sheepish, Shino grins. “But I’ve never asked a dude out before, so... maybe I’m doing it wrong?”

“...No.”

And Yamagi’s eyes are watery, but he starts to laugh, which is such a relief for Shino. Laughing Yamagi beats crying Yamagi any day. Smiling, he ruffles Yamagi’s hair.

“So, dinner? Yay, nay...?”

Suddenly embarrassed by his own tears, Yamagi scrubs his eyes dry, and then turns his face up to Shino. “Yes, I accept,” he says firmly.

“Oh, that was fast,” Shino teases.

“You miss all of the shots you don’t take,” Yamagi says, and smiles a little. “Someone who sucks at typing told me that, once.” Then he thrusts his chin out, almost impertinently, like he’s daring Shino to do something about it. “Well?” he demands. “Aren’t you going to take responsibility for all this?”

Shino swallows, but grins, too. “Oh yeah,” he says, with feeling. “You bet.”

After all, he’s always liked a challenge.

#iron blooded orphans #ibo #shinoyama #gundam ibo #norba shino #yamagi gilmerton #fic

[semisweetfics]

With My Last Breath

Basically Pete almost dies, and Patrick comes to see him in the hospital. Slight angst and a whooollee lotta fluff

Thank you once more to @rosecolouredgorl for helping me a TON with this one. 

TW: violence, death m (he doesn’t die i promise), food m, needles, hospitals, ask to tag

AN: I’m posting this on AO3 as well :)

Pete gasped, holding his hand up to the knife wound in his side. His attacker had run off down the alley, pushing past a woman that was now calling the police. He glanced at her before falling back, his head hitting the pavement hard. Through the throbbing in his head, he faintly remembered something about leaving knives in you rather than pulling them out; something to do with bleeding to death faster? Pete didn't really remember, but he couldn't care; it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

 Pete groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to ignore the pain. He’d worked so hard today, staying in the studio until dark, and now he was lying on the ground in an alley.  Their album was almost finished; Pete really hoped he would have got  to see it completed.

  With shaking hands Pete reached into his pocket and fished out his phone, dialing Patrick's number immediately. He wasn’t really sure why at first; if anything he should call his mom, or his brother, or maybe a damn ambulance. As soon as it started to ring, though, he felt instantly calmer. Patrick made him feel safe, he always had, and, if nothing else right now, Pete needed something comforting.

 Pete breathed deeply, trying to sound normal.

 "Hello?" Patrick's voice was so beautiful on the other end of the line; he sounded sleepy, like he always was after recording.

 "Hey Tricky, what are you up to?"

 "I made tea before bed, why? What's up Wentz?"

 Pete stared up at the sky, watching the clouds slowly move away to reveal the stars. It was gorgeous, and helped to soothe him even more. “Just wanted to hear your voice, I guess,” he said, softer than before.

 Patrick laughed, and Pete felt his heart stutter, but that could have been the fact that he was slowly bleeding to death. "Pete, you listened to my voice all day man. Are you sure you're okay?"

 "Yeah, I'm fine Rick, don't worry," Pete hesitated, before speaking quietly. "Patrick, you know I love you, right? Like.. You're my best friend in the entire world." He could feel Patrick's frown through the phone, and hoped he wasn't worrying him too much.

  "Yeah, and I love you too, dumbass. Pete.. Is something wrong? Do you need me to come get you..?"

 Pete shook his head despite the fact that his friend couldn't see him. "Nah, it's okay, really. Just.. Wanted to remind you."

 Patrick hummed, and Pete shivered. His vision was getting weird, and he knew he had to hurry before he ran out of time. "Patrick.. I-I love you a lot, okay? Like.. Just always know that, okay? I'm not making much sense, I know, but when do I ever right? Just.. Yeah,” he chuckled breathlessly, wincing at how his laughter made the pain in his side so much worse.

 "I love you too Pete. You're okay, really. Just.. Tell me if something's wrong, okay?"

 Pete smiled. Patrick cared about him, he always had honestly. Patrick was there with him through everything, and even if he didn’t realize it, he was helping him now, too. Patrick loved him, in his own way, and even though Pete longed for him to feel the same love he did, for now, the thought that he mattered to Patrick Stump at all was enough.

 "I gotta go, Trick. I hope you have a good night," he said softly, tilting away from the phone to gasp and spit out blood.

 "Goodnight Petey, talk to you later."

 Pete dropped the phone, his breaths coming out harder. He faintly heard the sound of a siren, but he doubt they would make it in time. He closed his eyes, trying to pull up a memory to make this hurt less.

 As Pete felt his fingers start to numb, he thought back to one of their first hotel nights that Patrick and him had shared a bed. Patrick was shy at first, of course, bitching whenever Pete made a stupid joke. By the third Star Wars movie, however, he was sitting right beside Pete, their knees touching. Pete coughed again, groaning as his chest started to go numb as well, and desperately clung on to that memory. Patrick went to bed first, watching anxiously as Pete got ready for bed. He knew it would make him uncomfortable if he took his shirt off, so that’s exactly what Pete did before turning off the bedside lamp and crawling in beside Patrick. He kept his distance, at first, but little by little Patrick scooted closer, until his arms slowly started to wrap against Pete’s torso. He felt Patrick press his nose against his shoulder blade, and had to bite his lip to stop smiling.  As Pete slowly started to fall asleep, both then and now, he could feel Patrick’s warm breath when he whispered, “Goodnight, Pete.”

Pete didn’t know when he started to be able to feel things again. It started slowly, with his toes suddenly coming back into existence. Pete tried to wiggle them, to regain feeling in his legs, but it was like a fog was pressing him down, keeping his whole body in the dark. The next time he felt something, it was a hand against his arm. The fingers were cold and unknown, and then suddenly there was a stabbing sensation. Vaguely, he registered it as a needle. Pete tried to move, to get the attention of whoever was prodding him, but he didn’t seem to be able to. After a moment, the fingers disappeared, and took the touch with it.

 The final time Pete started to feel something, it was his head. It started throbbing, a strange ache just behind his eyes. He tried to move them, to turn his head to make the pain go away, and then suddenly his body was back. Pete’s eyes flew open, and he gasped as he suddenly was able to take in his surroundings.

 The hospital room was the stereotypical bright white and green, with a few chairs in the corners. There were flowers on every table he could see, and a few on the floor underneath the T.V.  The floor itself was tile, and smelled faintly of bleach even from here. The bed Pete was currently occupying was stiff and uncomfortable,  similar to how he felt.

 Pete strained to turn his head, his eyes raking over the tubes attached to his arm. A needle was taped to his arm, and he tried to lift it once before giving up. He felt tired, his throat was dry, and everything ached in a peculiar way. The door opened suddenly, and Pete slowly turned his head to watch a nurse walked in, followed by someone familiar.

 He vaguely registered the nurse changing IV bags, telling him that the doctor would be in soon to check on him. Patrick was staring at him, wide eyed, not moving from his spot by the door. Pete's stomach twisted at the few tears that fell down his cheeks. The nurse left quickly, shutting the door behind her, and Patrick slowly walked forward. His eyes never left Pete’s as he carefully sat down in the chair beside his bed.

 Pete stared at him, thinking that he looked so much like an angel. He was without his hat but was wearing his glasses, his hoodie zipped up tight. There were a few rain drops in his hair, and Pete wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through it.

 Instead, he shakily reached for Patrick's hand, attempting to smile at him. "Y'know, they should've given you a sexy nurse costume whenever you came in. I might get better faster."

 Patrick laughed, more tears falling from his eyes. "You almost fucking died, and you still... Fuck, Wentz, what am I gonna do with you?"

 Pete laughed, trying to cover his anxiousness. He almost died? ...Everyone must have been so worried, especially Patrick. “I have some ideas, Rickster.” Joking seemed the best way to go, he thought. Making Patrick laugh seemed like the point of his entire existence, anyway. Well, aside from pissing him off too, but that wasn’t relevant at the time.

 Patrick shook his head, but scooted closer, running his cold fingers through Pete's hair. "Petey.. You almost died," he said softly, blue eyes staring into Pete's brown ones.

 Pete nodded," Yeah.. How long have I been here?"

 "Almost four days man.. You scared the hell out of us, Pete."

 The bassist nodded, lacing his fingers through Patrick's. "Sorry," he whispered. Pete was stupid, so fucking stupid. If he’d just called the ambulance instead, had gotten it there sooner...

 Patrick shook his head, leaning forward to wrap his arms loosely around Peter's shoulders. Pete could feel tears soaking through his hospital gown, and Patrick's warm breath on his neck.

 "Don't.. Don't you dare apologize. You're alive, Pete.. Oh god, you're okay.."

 Pete wrapped his arms around Patrick's middle, pressing his lips to his hair. "It's okay, Tricky it's alright. I'm right here, Trick."  He silently willed the fear to leave Patrick’s mind, as if that would help. Pete had caused him enough worrying for a lifetime, no doubt, and he wanted that worry to end as soon as humanly possible.

 The singer nodded, pulling back to take a shaky breath. He met Pete's eyes with a watery smile. "That's.. That's why you called me, huh?"

 Pete nodded, smiling sheepishly. "I.. I didn't want to worry you," Patrick laughed, cupping Pete's face with his hand, "but.. I had to tell you.. I.. I needed you to know, Trick. I didn't.." Pete huffed in frustration, looking down. "I couldn't.. Patrick, I had to make sure you knew that you mean the world to me.. I was so sure I was gonna die, man, and I didn't..." Pete shook his head, feeling tears form in his own eyes. He almost died and scared the fuck out of Patrick, he couldn’t just drop his stupid 14-year-long crush on the poor guy too.

 "Pete," Patrick breathed, warm breath washing over Pete's face. The bassist looked up, heart melting at the gorgeous blue eyes staring at him.

 "I never," he swallowed, choking up, " Pete I never ever doubted that.. You.." Patrick shook his head, running his thumb over Pete's cheekbone.

 Before either of them could speak, the door opened, and a man walked in. He was in a long white coat, looking down at the chart in his hands. Patrick hurried to move out of the way, standing awkwardly in the corner. His cheeks were a lighter shade of pink, making Pete smile slightly as he turned back to the doctor. He was an older black man, with kind dark eyes. He smiled at Pete, and spoke with a deep and warm voice. " Hello Mr.Wentz, I'm Doctor Peterson. It's good to see you with your eyes open, son. Do you remember what happened to you?"

 Pete nodded, "I was walking home, and was jumped by some kid.. He pushed me into the alley, holding the knife to my neck, and asked for my wallet. After I gave it to him, along with my watch and necklace, he stabbed me." Pete frowned, glancing over at Patrick.

 "Did they catch him?" he asked, watching as Patrick shook his head.

 The doctor sighed, "Well, you weren't awake to give a statement. The girl that called the ambulance didn't see much of the kid, so if you feel up to it, I'm sure the police would like to hear from you."

 Pete nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek. "I.. Can I talk to them tomorrow?"

 The doctor nodded, smiling kindly at him. "You don't have to speak to anyone until you feel up to it, Peter. Now," he looked down at his chart again, "You suffered a pretty deep stab wound to your side, and it almost completely went through your liver, and caused a bit of internal bleeding. There was also a fairly deep gash on the back of your head, I figure that happened when you fell?. ” He said, smiling when Pete nodded.

 “You should be discharged in a few days, as long as your improvement remains constant. However, " the doctor looked over at Patrick, his face changing from friendly to serious in seconds, "He can only have four visitors in the room at the time, and only one person after visiting hours are over. If you bring him food, then it needs to be somewhat light on his stomach."

 Patrick nodded, eyes wide as he focused on every word the man said. Pete knew Patrick would be following every instruction as carefully as he could, bitching at anyone that tried to do something else.

 The doctor turned back to Pete, warm smile present once more. "I'm sure you'll want some time to rest, so I'll let you be. I'll be back in a few hours to check on your monitors, but if you need me before then, press the call button." Doctor Peterson smiled at them both before leaving, closing the door quietly behind himself.

 Pete leaned back and rested his head against the pillows, closing his eyes. He heard Patrick shuffle closer, taking his place in the chair beside the bed. "Your mom is in town. She stayed in the hospital for almost an entire week, but me and Andy managed to convince her to get a hotel. I left her a message, so she should be here first thing in the morning."

 Pete nodded, opening his eyes to look up at Patrick. "Do you need to go home?"

 The singer shook his head." I'm not leaving you, Petey." The bassist knew from experience that there was really no point in arguing with the younger boy. He nodded, smiling sheepishly up at him.

 Patrick smiled at him, fingers lightly touching his face again. "Do you need anything?"

 Pete shook his head, and Patrick nodded. For a moment, they sat in silence, staring at one another. It wasn’t uncomfortable, the way Patrick’s blue eyes seemed to scan Pete’s entire body before returning to his eyes. It gave Pete time to look at him anyway, and admiring Patrick was always a favorite pastime of his. He had just started counting the freckles on Patrick’s nose when the singer finally broke into a grin.

 "Sleeping in that chair can't be comfortable," Pete said,  watching as Patrick stood and shrugged off his hoodie. He was wearing one of Pete's Metallica t-shirts underneath, and Pete almost melted. He must have stolen that while they were on tour, he thought, warmth spreading slowly from his heart into the rest of his body.

 "It's whatever. I am not getting a hotel, Pete."

 Pete raised his hands in defense, smiling at Patrick. "I'm just saying, man, I'm not exactly a big guy. You could share the bed with me; it's not like we haven't slept together before."

 Patrick rolled his eyes, "Of course you had to say it like that."

 Grinning, Pete shifted closer to his monitors, making enough room for Patrick to slide into the bed beside him. The younger man took off his shoes and climbed into the bed. He carefully wrapped one arm around Pete's chest, resting his head on the other.

 "Hey," Pete said quietly, his nose almost touching Patrick's.

 "Hi," Patrick whispered.

 As cliche as it was, the world slowed down. Pete wasn't focusing on anything but Patrick; the feel of the younger man against him, how warm and soft he was, how safe Pete felt with him.

 Patrick carefully brushed his fingers over Pete's collarbone, exposed by the hospital gown. Pete shivered, brushing his fingers down the younger man's spine. He felt him shiver against his side, and Pete blushed when he heard the heart rate monitor speed up. Patrick smirked, his own cheeks turning pink despite it. "Pete... When... When you called me... Did.."

 Patrick couldn't finish his sentence; he bit his lip, looking down at his hand on Pete's chest. The bassist grabbed his hand, squeezing his fingers.

 "If.. If you're asking what I think you are, then... Yeah. Yeah, Patrick, yes."

 The singer bit his lip, looking up at Pete. He let go of Pete's hand and cupped Pete's face, shifting closer slightly. "Can I?" He breathed, so close that Pete could practically taste him.

 The bassist didn't reply, only shifted forward, pressing his lips against Patrick's softly. For a moment, they stayed motionless, until Patrick opened his mouth the slightest bit. Pete pressed his tongue against his soft bottom lip, and both of them gasped as their kiss deepened. Patrick shivered and groaned, his lips wrapping around Pete's tongue.

 The bassist shivered, breathing hard as he pulled away. Patrick stared at him, blue eyes glancing at the monitor behind him for a moment. He smiled sheepishly, shaking his head. "We should, um... We should probably save that for later, Pete, since your heart rate thingy is kind of losing its shit."

 Pete laughed and nodded, shifting so that Patrick was pressed more tightly against his side. “You should sleep, Trick,” he said softly, kissing his nose. The singer hummed, curling closer to Pete. Patrick’s fingers gripped the fabric of his hospital gown loosely, tracing small circles over Pete’s heart with his fingertips.  

 “Love you,” Patrick whispered, sounding so sleepy already. Pete figured he’d stayed at the hospital for a while, refusing to leave. With a soft smile, he pressed his forehead against Patrick’s, and closed his eyes.

 “Love you too, Rick.”

#fluff #angst and fluff #hurt and comfort #peterick #patrick stump #pete wentz #fob fanfic #fob #fall out boy #fanfics #ask to tag

[singingintothevoid]

Memory Prompts:  Siren (Pt. 2)

🐥- A memory about their children (past, present, or future)

“Kid, take a good, long look at this ship, and the fuckin’ jackasses running ‘round on it, and ask me that shit again with a straight face.  Don’t have time, or energy, for my own kids, even if I did like ‘em.  I helped raise Peter, and that’s good enough for me.  Right now, I gotta remind people to put their laundry away, have to keep dumbasses from killin’ each other over stupid shit, make sure people don’t eat junk every meal...”  Her eye twitched.  “Literally no time.  Theoric’s old owner was nose deaf, and the idiot needs to be reminded that showers exist.  Though it’s fuckin’ hard to find somewhere to wash ‘round here that doesn’t have somethin’ weird hidin’ in it.  Yes I know there’s a snake in the guest bath.  His name is Inchworm, yes it’s stupid, but I don’t argue with Lash anymore.”

👘- A memory associated with an article of clothing they have

“Why the hell were ya goin’ through my things?”  Her cheeks purpled as she yanked the lacy dress out of the boys hands.  “By gods child, yes it’s see through, because it’s an overdress, you wear a bodysuit or some shit underneath it, jackass.  Stop laughing Peter, I swear to god I will punch you in your fuckin’ face.  Yes, even when I danced, I wore shit under it, it tried to be “classy”, which I could usually pull off as long as I didn’t open my fuckin’ mouth.”  She held it up to her chest and smiled fondly, any embarrassment seemingly gone.  It was white and sheer, covered in elegant lace, with wide armed sleeves.  Reaching mid-thigh, it looked far more risque then most would imagine the captain wearing.  “Fortunately, I wasn’t hired to talk much.” “I’m still amazed you weren’t hired to punch people in the face, with all those scars on ya.”  Spackle had wandered in to find out what the yelling as about.   “You wear enough foundation up there to wall a house, scars or no scars.”  Siren shrugged, balling the dress up.  “And I did snap a few fingers, remember?”  She tossed the dress on the bed, and grabbed Tyr by the ear.  “Now don’t go diggin’ through my shit anymore, ya brat.  There’s much less innocent things, not to mention dangerous stuff, in those drawers.” 

⚔️- A memory about war

A long pause stretched after the question was asked.  “You pry too much.”  Her voice had gone harsh.  “I lead a rebellion on my home planet to try to keep other kids like me from getting burned alive.  It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t honorable, and I got the fuck out of there once I got paid.”  Siren stormed out of the room, the spine along her back raised and pulsing red. “It’s a bit of a sore point.”  Lash said quietly, watching her leave.  “She felt important, and is actually quite the hero on her homeworld now, but she’ll never go back.  Too many remains of murdered children, and the ghosts of her, ah, spawners, as she calls them, will always haunt her there.  She also knows she was just a tool, just a plot point to add to the fight of one group against another.  They offered to let her stay, give her power, a new name...  She left as soon as credits got transferred.  I wouldn’t bring it up again.” “What Lash dodging around sayin’ is that she killed her parents there.”  Tossing a ball absentmindedly, Spackle stared at the ceiling.  “They were lining up parents who had killed their children, basically those who had kids at one point, and then mysteriously didn’t.  Some could prove they hadn’t killed their kids, and those they couldn’t prove if they did or not got secluded elsewhere, and those who had...  Well, there’s some new mass graves on a nearby planet.  Her parents tried to use her to be kept out of it, said she was proof they hadn’t killed her.  Wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t acknowledge her presence, didn’t say ‘sorry for dumpin you’...   “She killed them herself, and you could see it fuckin’ hurt to do.  Couldn’t get a word out of her for days, weeks before she smiled again.”  The two lieutenants looked uncomfortable.  “She really doesn’t like it being brought up.  Just know she always wanted a family, and have that thrown at her...  Yeah, don’t talk to her about this, and be grateful you got two parents that care about you, okay?”

🌅- A memory associated with a certain location

“Best memory of this place?”  She said slowly, frowning.  “The ship itself?  Pro’lly walkin’ into it the first time.  Such a surreal experience that was.  She wasn’t new, no way I coulda afforded that, but she was clean, and ready to fuckin’ go...  Just so exciting.  Lash ‘n Spackle at my back, ready to take on the whole damn galaxy...  Didn’t know the fuck I was doin’, but I was doin’ something.” A snort came from behind her.  “You spent almost an hour running through the place screaming like a little kid.”  Lash was smirking.  “Literally just, ‘mine mine mine mine!’ for almost an hour.” “Oh shut up.”

🌠- A time they wished upon a falling star

“Jeez, you’re sappy.  Um, okay, I didn’t really wish on that shit, but uh, when I first left the orphanage, first time on the Ravager ship, there was a meteor shower goin’ on.  Too dangerous to fly in that, so we stayed in orbit until it cleared up.  Freakin’ beautiful man.  I was seventeen, it was my first time off planet where, ya know, I wasn’t freakin’ the fuck out at the idea I was about to get brutally murdered.  The city my orphanage was in was too damn bright to have notice from the ground, but man, I must have spent the whole thing plastered against the windows.  I thought I didn’t need to wish, right?  I was already gettin’ all I had hoped for.  I just wanted off and away from that whole damn mess.  But it was second only to the time we flew through a space storm for gorgeous shit I’ve seen...  Well, while on the Ravager ship at least.”

🐕-A memory of teamwork

“I give my people shit, but they’re good people.  You gotta trust everyone to have your back ‘round here.  One person stops...  The group’s just too small for that.  Everyone’s gotta job, and it gotta get done in order to have everything work, both in ship and on the field.  Yeah, my people are fuckin’ great.  Wouldn’t trade any of ‘em away for anythin’.” “You’re being so sentimental tonight, Boss Lady.”  Jackie grinned, and there were a few chuckles around the circle.   “Oh, y’all can go suck it.  ‘M drunk, I have an excuse.  ‘Sides, y’all know I’d die for any of ya, no need to make somethin’ stupid outta it.” “Same to you, Boss.”  Jet raised his bottle, drunk sincerity making his voice quiver.  Siren beamed. “Anyway, there’s no specific memory ‘bout it.  The whole ship is teamwork.  Every job we’re hired on, e’ry day flyin’...  Ya need everyone.”  She threw her arm around Cinder, who was settled in next to her.  He looked like he was about to argue, but perhaps her words had managed to make an impact, and he merely looked away.  “Everyone is important on here.”  Siren threw back the rest of her drink.  “Every last one of ‘em.”

🐺- A memory about being alone

“There’s something about flyin’ alone that gets to me.  I spent almost a full week, when I first left the Ravagers just...  Flying.  Literally just spent all that time just bein’ happy at shit bein’ quiet.  Never was, even when people were sleepin’, no matter where you were.  People would be snorin’, stoppin’ around drunk off their asses...  Quiet was just so...  Wonderful.”  

#askmeme #sonofthefrosthearted #Siren