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#i'm insane for making this but hopefully y'all enjoy it
mikachacha · 6 months
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𝙲𝚛𝚞𝚎𝚕 𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛 (𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)
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Synopsis: You and Bada are in a situationship. You're both fine with that, at least you thought you're okay with it. The more time you spent with each other, the deeper you fell for her to the point where you couldn't help but think, what if you just straight up tell her that you love her?
(A/N: So yeah.. I'm just writing stories based on songs now 🤦‍♀️ Also, please excuse the grammar and spelling mistakes because English isn't my first language 🥹 Hope y'all enjoyyyyy!)
Warning: cursing, angst (well a bit), drunk shiz.. I think that's all??
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Being in a situationship with Bada is both the greatest thing you've ever done and the worst torture. Bada's the perfect girlfriend one could ask for. Aside from the looks, she's caring, fun and just overall loveable. Seems like a perfect situation, right? Well that's where the problem arose. The more time you spent together, the more you realize that you're falling deeper for her and it sucks. Yeah, you may be sweet with each other, maybe kiss here and there but at the end of the day, she isn't yours. It's just something to pass the time or the boredom of being single. One day when she finds the person she truly wants, you'll be left in the ruins.
"You good? You've been spaced out?" Bada asked as she gently nudged your shoulder. You're just hanging out at the park late at night, enjoying the summer breeze together. You smiled at her and nodded your head, convincing her and mostly convincing yourself that you're okay. That you're all okay with this, which is a big, fat lie.
"Yeah I'm good, just thinking about something." You assured her before leaning your head on her shoulder. She hums and brushes your hair with her fingers before kissing your hair. As much as it pains you, you couldn't help but feel butterflies even at the smallest amount of affection she showers you.
"Are you free tomorrow evening?" she asked and you contemplated a bit if you should say yes or make up an excuse just to distance yourself a bit because you're falling dangerously hard for Bada and it's not good for you.
"Not really.. My friends and I planned to hang out at the bar tomorrow evening." you lied and she pouts a bit before sighing. As much as she wants to tell you to hang out with her instead, she had to remind herself that you're not her girlfriend and you're free to hang out with whoever you want.
"Well that sucks.. If you ever need a ride home since you're way too drunk, just give me a call yeah?" She says and you nodded your head, just snuggling against her side a little bit more. This might be the last time as you planned to distance yourself from Bada. Just enough for you to hopefully lose feelings and go back to the way it used to be. No strings attached.
"Will do.. Anywayssss, let's head back now? I know you need to be early tomorrow." you slowly got up and stretched and Bada couldn't help but wrap her arms around your waist, just holding you close to her. She's slowly coming in to terms that she may be falling for you though she needs to make sure that you feel the same way, too.
The moment you closed your apartment door after she walked you home was the last time you allowed yourself to be with her. As much as you wanted to keep doing whatever you had with her, it was best to let go rather than keep yourself from falling without any assurance that she'll be there to catch you.
"Thank you, Bada.. But I don't think my heart could handle this anymore.." you sighed and headed to bed with your heart heavy. You didn't even bother texting Bada anything before you slept. You were way too lost in your own misery that night.
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Bada hasn't been herself the past few days. She felt like she was going insane because she hasn't seen you or heard from you since that night. It was like you're avoiding her or actively hiding from her. You wouldn't reply to her texts, when she tried to call your phone it was unavailable. It's driving her nuts and her friends are genuinely concerned for her.
"Unnie, what's wrong? We noticed that you're not yourself the past few days.. We're worried about you.." Lusher asked, finally building the courage to ask Bada about what's going on. Their other team members are getting concerned as well. Bada rarely smiled, is always on her phone and would rush out every single day which is not like her at all.
"I don't know, Lusher.. Y/N isn't talking to me anymore. I haven't seen or heard from her for days now. It's like she's avoiding me completely. It hurts.." Bada sighed and just stared at her phone that was on the table, hoping, wishing, praying that you would respond to her messages or even call but nothing happened which made her more upset.
"Heard she's hanging out with some of our old friends from uni days at this newly opened bar tonight. Wanna go so you guys can finally talk?" Tatter asked, having overheard Bada's dilemma. Without any thoughts , Bada immediately agreed. She just wants to see you, talk to you and apologize for whatever she did wrong just so you would talk to her again. She misses you so bad.
When they got there, Bada began looking around in search of you and there you were sitting with friends and drinking. You were never the drinker type but because you wanted to forget the feelings you had for Bada, you agreed to hang out with your old friends from uni. You're willing to do anything just to ease the pain you felt. It wasn't supposed to be this way and you blame yourself for believing yours and Bada's play pretend.
As the night grew deeper, the more you drank and when you felt you've had enough, you stumbled out of the bar to get some fresh air and maybe call a cab not to go home but to hang out at the park where you last hang out with Bada. It became a routine now for you, tipsy or sober, you always find yourself at the park just to cry your sorrows and heartbreak away.
Meanwhile, Bada excused herself to her friends. She saw you get up and get out of the bar so she followed you. She knows that she's coming off as creepy and stalker-like but all she wants is to talk to you and maybe hold you in her arms one last time if you decide to walk out from whatever you had with Bada. She followed the cab that you rode with her motorbike until it stopped at the park where you last hung out with her. She could feel her heart break a little as she watched you stumble out, your soft sniffles can be heard as it was already quiet out. She doesn't even have to look closely to know that you have been crying before you even got out of that cab.
Bada parked her motorbike safely before following you and what she saw broke her even more. You were sitting at the spot where she would usually take you since it has a clear view of the night skies after you once told her that you loved star gazing. You were crying and she sat beside you, pulling you to her chest which startled you a bit and making you cry even more.
"Y/N, what's going on? Please tell me.. I've been so worried about you the past few days. Did I do something wrong?" she asked softly and you tried to calm yourself down, even just a little bit but you couldn't stop the tears from falling down your cheeks.
"Nothing's wrong, Bada. Everything's good, you didn't do anything wrong." you told her and she sighed as she rubbed your back to help you calm down.
"Then why are you avoiding me?" She asked and you took a shaky breath before looking at her in the eyes. It's now or never for you. You're not only torturing yourself but also her at the process and she doesn't deserve it so you muster all the courage you can get to tell her the truth.
"I'm not okay, Bada! I've been lying to myself, I've been lying to you whenever I tell you that I'm okay with whatever we have between us.. But it's not okay! It hurts so much, it hurts so bad so here, I'll tell you the truth.. I don't want to keep secrets just to keep you with me.." you finally bursted and Bada just looked at you in complete shock. She didn't know that you were hurting from the situation and it broke her heart to pieces hearing the truth from you. Before Bada could start talking and apologizing, you stopped her as you continued your outburst.
"I love you, Bada. I'm so damn in love with you and I don't know what the fuck to do with myself or these feelings because there's no assurance that you'll ever feel the same way as me.." you confessed and Bada just pulled you in for a kiss. A kiss filled with all the bottled up feelings she had for you.
"Fuck, Y/N.. I love you too.." She says when both of you pulled away. A smile made its way on your lips hearing those words from her. Maybe it wasn't a cruel summer with her after all.
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tripleyeeet · 9 months
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IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE, MAYBE (2)
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SUMMARY: It's always been hard being the sibling of a superhero. Lately though, it feels next to impossible.
PAIRING: Miguel O'Hara & Female Reader
WORD COUNT: 5,136
WARNINGS: Angst, enemies-to-lovers adjacent, descriptions of a panic attack/dissociate behaviours, inappropriate use of medication/alcohol consumption.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, first of all, the amount of love I've received from this fic has been insane??? Like, y'all really knocked it out of the park, both here and on AO3 and I'm absolutely astounded? Thank you so much! You guys have literally motivated me so much so hopefully this chapter lives up to the hype of the first? :)
CHAPTER LIST / LAST CHAPTER / MASTERLIST
-
“God, I am never drinking again.” 
You stumble into the living room with your hands against your eyes, palming the sockets roughly. It’s morning, maybe even early afternoon, and already the sun is pushing through the blinds, coating the apartment in enough light that it makes you squint. On the couch Miguel grumbles under the covers as you walk by, pulling the fabric over his head as he readjusts his position, directing himself away. 
You’re surprised to see him there but say nothing, opting to wander into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water, noticing a fresh sticky note on the fridge: Call me when you’re up —Pete!
Hm, he must’ve gone over to MJ’s for the night.
Peeling the note away, you continue your trek for hydration, grabbing a glass that you fill and chug down twice before feeling satisfied enough to continue. Or at least, enough to survive considering just how sore you are. From your knees down you can feel the leftover aches from walking home; the many miles you’d managed to travel in your drunken state now heavy on your mind. There are at least one or two blisters on each foot thanks to your poor choice of footwear while the muscles surrounding your shins feel like they might actually be burning through your flesh.  
As you walk back through the living room you try not to groan at the pain, turning your attention to Miguel who’s now reluctantly awake. 
“Morning, grandpa.” 
You walk over and press the sticky note to his forehead, ignoring the way he swears under his breath and looks at you with narrowed eyes. 
“It’s not nice to assault people with sticky notes before they’ve had coffee.”
Shrugging in response, you walk back to your bedroom to grab your phone, listening to the creak of your couch as Miguel shifts out of place. 
It’s weird that he’s still here. After everything that happened last month, you were certain you’d never have to see him again. Being Peter’s boss and not much else, he’d become nothing more than a disdainful memory as time went on. A poor impression from the past that Peter never talked about. If you were honest, you weren’t expecting to hear about him so soon, much less see him, especially without his mask. 
So seeing him here, sitting so nonchalantly on your couch is a bit strange. Off-putting in a way that leaves you emotionally winded as you sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your notifications. 
There’s about half a dozen apologies from Peter alone, each variation more extreme than the last. Mixed between there’s a few memes and a picture of him pretending to cry on MJ’s floor with the caption sorry for being the worst brother, which you immediately save for future use. There’s also one from Harry asking you to send him a work email that you ignore and another from Gwen once again asking you to come for brunch. 
You glance at the time, noticing that it’s nearing eleven. She and Harry are probably already at their usual spot, munching away on overpriced, organic eggs and inhaling mimosas. (Something you'd normally enjoy but can’t quite fathom doing thanks to the pain currently rippling through your body.) 
Groaning, you curl further into the bed, feeling your head shift like an ocean wave that sends you flying across the room. In response, you shut your eyes as tight as possible, hoping that if you roll with the movements you’ll get used to them faster. 
Immunity through the power of will and all that. 
“I see you’re still alive.” 
You refuse to open your eyes. You need to focus on getting better —on pushing through the swirling motions that attack your brain because if you don’t you’ll be stuck here all day, helpless and in pain and way too dizzy. No longer will you be a person, but instead a shell. A fragile casing of sensitive flesh stretched over bruising bone that will slowly but surely deteriorate over time. 
“Are you always this dramatic?” 
The urge to argue persists, flowing through you just quick enough that you find yourself opening one eye, noticing his stance. 
He’s standing nonchalantly in the centre of your room; hands placed neatly on his hips. On his face, the tiniest of smirks pokes out of the corner of his mouth, prompting you to lift your head, blinking at what feels like a rare sight.
“Are you always this hostile?”
“Only in the morning.”
“Even towards complete strangers?”
“Especially to strangers.”
“Makes sense why you don’t have many friends.” 
“And how would you know that, stranger?”
He’s got that teasing tone that Harry always has. The one that sounds so condescending that it borders flirtation. Immediately it makes you roll your eyes and direct your attention back to your phone, realizing just how little you want to continue this conversation. You’re too hungover. Too sick and tired to do this whole back-and-forth thing, so instead you call Peter, putting the call on speakerphone with a sigh.
It rings twice before the other end clicks to life, a very joyful and awake Peter greeting the both of you. “Good morning friends, how are we doing on this beautiful morning?”
Almost in unison both of you grumble out a quiet fine that makes Peter laugh, prompting you to look at each other with shared disgust. 
“Are you hungover?”
“What do you think?”
“Gwen called me this morning,” he says, changing the subject. “She wants to go for brunch.”
“That’s nice, but I will not be attending on the account of the fact that I’d rather die.” 
“So dramatic,” Miguel chimes in.
Ignoring him, you place your phone onto the pillow next to you and tighten the covers around your throat.
Your head is still spinning but less so, the waves feeling more like lakeside tides than oceanic swells, leaving you thankful. There’s nothing worse than the spins after a night out. You can handle the stomach aches and even the vomiting but the second you can feel that mental drift you’re a goner. 
“Okay well, MJ and I are going to go if you change your mind. Miguel, you're welcome to come too.”
“No thanks,” he says, unsurprisingly. 
There’s a pause after that. One that lasts a solid five seconds but feels like a lifetime longer thanks to the way Miguel continues to stand there, staring at your pathetic frame tucked haphazardly beneath the covers. 
“You know staring is rude, right?”
“Is it?”
“Yeah, and weird too considering I barely know you.”
“You saying it’s weird for strangers to stare at strangers?” 
“A little, yeah, so knock it off.” 
He gives in, his eyes diverting towards the window before they move to the door, motivating his body to leave the room without another word. Once he’s gone you let out a sigh of relief and listen to his footsteps, hearing the way they move through the living room and into the kitchen. 
It makes you wonder why he’s even still here, taking up space in a home he isn’t really welcome in. You figured it was obvious from the beginning that he was nothing more than an overnight guest. A protective stand-in meant to slip away in the dead of night with no word or note. He was never meant to linger the way he is now and a part of you wonders if he already knows. If instead of picking up and applying said social cues, he’s opting to ignore them for some higher purpose. 
It wouldn’t make much sense but then again, you don’t really know Miguel so maybe he’s just a lingerer. Maybe he’s socially awkward and doesn’t understand that when you’re being mean to him it means you want him to leave your house so you can vomit in peace. 
“I see you guys are getting along.”
“Swimmingly.”
“Did you two have a good night?”
“Yes, oh my god it was amazing!”
“Really?”
You offer a fake laugh that Miguel walks in on, raising his brow in confusion. “No, we had a terrible time. Your boss is mean, Peter.” 
Offended, Miguel opens his mouth to speak but quickly closes it, watching the way you smirk beneath the covers, watching his brows knit together.
“How am I mean? I walked you home didn’t I?”
“Sure, begrudgingly.” 
He scoffs, his palms moving to encompass his hips again. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to enjoy walking you home. I’ll remember that next time.”
Next time?
You narrow your eyes and stare directly at him, noticing the way he mirrors your expression. It’s subtle at first, the way the crinkles of his eyes sort of deepen to match the lines across his forehead. His skin is rough —aged looking most likely due to the fact he probably slept terribly— and the bags beneath his eyes are the heaviest you’ve ever seen, even rivalling Peter’s on some of his rougher days. Like you, he looks more like a corpse than a person, his face devoid of anything other than the sickened frustration of having to deal with your attitude.
“I’m gonna be honest if you’re ever running late again, please call someone else.”
It’s obvious you’re talking to Peter but as you speak you continue staring at the man in front of you, glaring at the way his weight shifts beneath your gaze.
You hope he’s uncomfortable. You hope he’s embarrassed or at least feeling a little self-conscious for acting like such a child in a space that he hopefully never feels welcome in. If you were him you’d certainly be.
“Yeah, so, anyway, is that still a no to breakfast or…?”
-
You’re beginning to regret ever wanting to get involved in Peter’s double life. Or at least, its most recent developments. Up until last month, everything was fine. Simple and controlled and not at all hectic like it is now. Back then, everything was smooth sailing when it came to helping. Your only responsibilities being lie to May and make sure the window was always unlocked before you went to bed. Two very mundane tasks you could practically do in your sleep. 
Nowadays, it feels like an endless loop of stress. Kind of like when you were eighteen and just finding out that your brother was a superhero for the first time. Everything is complicated again. The stakes feel higher than ever before knowing the truth that there’s a world out there just like yours, endlessly repeating. That instead of just one Spider-Man there’s probably a million variations doing the same thing Peter’s doing. 
You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you look at everything differently —intensively. With each new person you pass you wonder what their version is like somewhere else. Are they still male or female? Are they younger? Older?
As you walk into brunch alongside Peter and MJ, it’s all you can think about as you stare at Gwen, remembering her counterpart. How she looked so familiar but you couldn’t quite place it. 
You realize now that it’s because she’s your Gwen, but not. A direct copy but a good decade younger. They have the same hair colour and eyes and that little gap between their front teeth and upon seeing her it makes you wearily shift into your seat, putting on your fakest smile. 
She’s already a bit tipsy when you arrive, you can tell. Her eyes are half closed and the grin plastered across her face is hazardously wide. 
“Oh, my god, hi! I’m so glad you came!”
If it weren’t for the table between you she’d be pulling you in for a hug, tightening her grip around your shoulders until the air inside you was gone. You inhale nervously at the thought, wondering if other Gwen would do the same. 
It’s hard to tell what traits transfer over. Considering she’s a spider person in her universe it’s more than likely she’s completely different, right? Perhaps relating more to Peter. It’d make sense that all spider people kind of have the same vibe. Perhaps like your brother, they’re nerdy and into photography and have partners with nicknames that double as their initials. Like him they'd live double lives, trying their best to find the balance between being crime-fighting arachnids and regular civilians with the help of their sisters. 
Or brothers. You figure in other universes you’re probably a guy too. Hell, maybe even in some you're the spider person having to navigate through life with the help of your brother. 
“Sorry we’re late,” Pete grins, pulling out the chair beside you so that MJ can sit down. “Somebody had a bit too much to drink.”
You shoot him a look as he sits at the head of the table, sticking out his tongue for good measure. 
You hope in the universe where you have superpowers you give him a hard time. 
“It’s fine, we overdid it too,” Gwen says, looking at Harry who rolls his eyes and looks at Peter, the two of them sharing a knowing glance. 
“Hope you wore a condom,” you say, at which MJ and Gwen gasp, both of their mouths curling into cheeky grins that you can’t help but share. 
Its always been obvious that the two of them are together, even though neither of them would ever admit it. It’s weird but Gwen says it’s a part of the intrigue, having this unlabeled relationship that she can just ride without the responsibility of making it a bit deal. 
Both you and MJ think it’s because she secretly likes the drama of it all, but knowing how she’d react to such a claim, neither of you says that out loud. 
“Did you make it home okay?” Gwen changes the subject before anyone can even join in, making you sort of sad because you love to tease. 
“Relatively. Threw up on the walk home but that’s New York, baby.” 
“Walk home?” Harry questions.
You freeze, remembering Miguel. He doesn’t exist in this world. At least, not to anyone other than you and Pete and maybe MJ. You’re not entirely sure what he’s told her but you figure she knows in some capacity because he wouldn’t have called you otherwise. 
“I mean drive, sorry, drive home. I’m still hungover.” You try to laugh it off but Harry and Gwen share that look. The familiar one where they think you’re lying but know better than to actually bring it up. It’s the same look they give you sometimes when you’re covering for Peter and you hate it, feeling your chest tighten every time it’s shared right in front of your face. 
It reminds you of how you felt having Miguel around. Something about the way he looks at you every time you talk fills you with that familiar twang of insignificance. Like whatever you say isn’t good enough. 
With your friends you know it’s because you’re insecure about your lying capabilities. With Miguel though, it’s different. Yes, it feels the same physically but emotionally it’s an entirely new set of feelings. Ones that have you second-guessing their origins, remembering the way your stomach would twist each time he’d insult you. Each time he’d look at you with those dark eyes and pouting mouth. 
Thinking about it now, he reminds you very little of Peter. Aside from the moniker of Spider-Man the only similarities (so far) you can confidently say that they share is the art of sarcasm and deflection. The way their voices can become so monotonous at the drop of a hat is unparalleled, even with all the tension, and it’s frustrating. 
It makes you wish you didn’t wear your emotions on your sleeve. Like Peter and Miguel, you wish you could box it all up in the form of calm words so that nobody even got the chance to look at you the way Harry and Gwen still are. 
Secretly, you wish you were the spider person of this universe. Not because you want to save lives, selfishly. No, you mostly just wish you were stronger like them. Less like yourself and more like your brother who sits at the head of the table holding MJ’s hand with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. 
And not so secretly, you want what he has. You want to be confident and to have people look at you in a way that’s filled with adoration. To have them survey you and conclude that you’re decent rather than picking out your flaws. You want May to look at you with fondness. You want her to be proud of you in the same way she’s proud of Peter and to affirm your belief that you’re doing alright for yourself even without filling her desires for grandkids. 
You want Harry to look at you with respect. To stop looking through you just because you’re Parker’s sister who just so happens to be smart too. You want him to take him as seriously as he takes Gwen without the sex. Without the implication that to be valued, you need to provide him with something worthwhile. 
You want Gwen to appreciate everything you do for her. To stop taking advantage of you at work and in life —to provide you with the comfort of an actual friend. 
You want value, you decide. Whether that’s through the gain of superpowers or not. All you want is a little bit more than you’re given and you wish you could express that as you sit at the table, watching everyone talk and laugh as if you’re not really there.
Beside you, MJ leans into Peter as he talks, resting her chin on her hand in longing silence while the two across the table sit, completely engrossed. You try your best to listen in too, picking up that the story involves his boss over at the Bugle. Something about how his last few pictures of Spider-Man were so good he nearly fell off his chair. 
You fight the urge to roll your eyes and pull out your phone, scanning the screen mindlessly, clicking on apps and profiles over and over again until the waitress shows up and asks for your order. You get a mimosa regardless of your hangover and a bagel breakfast sandwich with all the extra fixings, knowing you need it. Then you wait. Wordlessly exhausted, wishing that instead of deciding to tag along you’d stayed at home under the comfort of your covers.
-
Once you step over the threshold of your apartment you let out a sigh of relief and sink into the couch alongside Peter who rubs his face. By now your social battery is running at a negative ten, making your mind fill with nervous thoughts that have you frowning as you curl into yourself, clutching your knees to your chest.
You shouldn’t have gone, you decide then. Regardless of the extended invitation, it was obvious you were only invited because Gwen was drunk and felt bad. That’s usually how it went nowadays. 
“They’re a lot, aren’t they?”
Peter’s always known how much you struggle with people —how you overthink every interaction after it’s happened. It’s how it’s always been and he’s used to it. 
As you nod, you feel his hand against your shoulder, tightening. It’s a gesture of understanding but at the moment it feels like pity so you brush him off, frowning even harder. 
“You okay?”
You aren’t. You’re overstimulated from the amount of interacting you’ve done in the last twenty-four hours. From Harry and Gwen to Miguel and back you haven’t had a break all day and you can feel your mask slipping. Physically, your chest is aching for a breath you can’t quite get, the realization of your interactions pushing you over the edge and all you want to do is scream.
You were such an asshole today. Sure, you’re always kind of mean but this morning specifically felt like a step above the rest with the way you argued with Miguel as if you knew him. As if last night was just another night between you, adding to countless others. You were brash and unwelcoming and rude, and despite how you feel about him sometimes, you still feel pretty shit about it.
“Do you need anything?”
“No.” 
Your tone is stubborn, dripping with an arrogance that has Pete sighing because he knows he can’t do much. When you’re in these moods all he can really do is let you live through your anger —to explore the hate you feel inside in private. It’s how you’ve always done things. So when Peter looks at you with sympathy you can know that’s it. He won’t press the matter further. He’ll just get up and leave and go to MJ’s for the night. Check-in in the morning like he usually does.
As he stands you’re met with feelings of both relief and regret, watching the way he carefully pats your head and steps over your legs. Inside, your stomach drops as he wanders to the doorway, slipping on his shoes and coat without saying a word, knowing that it never solves anything —just makes it all messy. 
Again, like always, you wish you were like him in these instances. Because maybe then you could have a normal relationship that doesn’t rely on boundaries you wish didn’t exist. Instead of pushing everyone away you could sit with them —talk to them. Express instead of repress. Prove to them that the love you want is the love you deserve. 
If you were in any other universe you’re certain you could do it. In this one though? 
You’re too scared. 
-
When you’re alone, it happens, the calm before the storm. 
As the hours move and you lay exhausted on the couch staring at your phone, you find yourself scrolling. Distracting yourself from the inevitable breaking point by watching YouTube video after YouTube video. First, you start with your usual poison, simple documentaries about things like haunted houses or murder cases that remained unsolved. Lazily, you click thumbnail and thumbnail, half absorbing all the names and dates and details as you lie prone, trying not to think about it. 
It takes hours for you to fully accept your emotions and when you do it’s a mess. Now lying in bed, it’s nearing eight and your deep dive on unsolved mysteries has turned into videos discussing the topics of the multiverse. You’re not sure why you decided to delve into all that but regardless, as you do you’re in your head again, clutching a pillow tightly against your cheek as you try to steady your thoughts. 
You bet Miguel’s world has a version of you that’s nicer. One that treats him with respect. They’re probably a spider person too which is why he looks at you with such disdain every time you argue. You’re a lesser version of them —no comparison. They’re better and it drives you insane, thinking that the approval of a man you hardly know is important. 
Aside from Peter, there’s absolutely nothing connecting you. You’re from different worlds both literally and figuratively, so it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.
Except that it does, doesn’t it? Deep down, regardless of how well you know one another, this man has managed to find his way inside your skin. You’re not sure when or how or why but somehow he’s always there, lingering at the back of your mind like a memory. Like he’s absent until he’s not —until something reminds you that he exists and that he thinks you’re too inexperienced to understand that he doesn’t like you. 
You figure he doesn’t like you because you’re stubborn. You’re sure there are other reasons but that’s the only one that really jumps out. The way he speaks to you is a direct example of that. Changing subjects often, he doesn’t like when you push his pull. Doesn’t like when you defy his authority or pry. He wants complete and total control and when you’re around he knows he doesn’t have that. You don’t trust him enough to give it.
His version of you probably gives him whatever he wants. Probably spoils him by following him around like some lost fucking puppy. They’re probably older than you —experienced— and have the backbone of an earthworm. 
He probably loves it. 
Shoving your face into your pillow you let out a loud groan, letting the tears well and overflow against the fabric of your pillowcase.
It’s sudden, the storm. Erupting out of nowhere over something that shouldn’t matter. Quickly, there’s a rage that fills inside you, quietly creeping from the depths of your soul in the form of breathless gasps and shaky hands. 
You turn upwards to face the ceiling, the tears coating your eyes in a layer of disarray. You can’t see anything but the blurred beige above you. Everything moves like brushstrokes across the canvas, thick and liquidy and not quite good-looking. It makes you blink in annoyance and throw your forearms over your head, trying to stop the world from letting you see or shake or feel anything other than regret. 
It’s painful, the storm. It feels like a deep wound being opened back up again. All the build-up of scar tissue is there, shoved amongst the perfectly good parts. Usually, they linger there together but as the wound is peeled open by your own hand, you can feel the worst of it start to push. 
As it surfaces, you can feel the catalyst begin to wake. The rate at which the chemicals in your brain begin to increase, pushing you over the edge.
It fucking hurts. 
By now your wound is gaping, ripping at the base of your chest. It’s hard to breathe under all the pressure of the damaged flesh. Under all the memories of a life you once thought was good. Decent 
In another universe, you hope to god you feel just like this. Like the world is caving in and you’re the last survivor. At least then you wouldn’t feel so alone —so beside yourself while everyone else so carelessly continues moving. 
It helps calm the storm. Thinking of you —another you. Regardless of if they’re better or worse or completely equal to you, the thought of this feeling extending across the expanse of a place you don’t quite understand fills you with ease.
It closes the hole in your chest —pushes all the tainted flesh back inside for safekeeping. Slowly, it settles into something you can handle again, sewing up the edges that’ll inevitably leave a new scar. 
As you sit up from your bed, brushing past the tears to clear your vision, you feel your breath begin to steady. A slow one-through-five inhale, followed by another one-through-five exhale, each one becoming stronger than the last as you look towards the window, noticing the familiar blue and red spandex standing silently on your fire escape. 
He doesn’t move when you notice him. Doesn’t fly through the air or duck out of sight. Standing there, it’s as if instead of flesh he’s made of stone, unwavering in his attempts to watch you carefully through the window. It’s scary if you’re honest. The way he looks so detached from the world. Even without seeing his face, it’s as if there’s nothing behind the angered design that adorns his features below. His emotions feel completely blank underneath the fabric, making you wonder. 
What’s he thinking about?
As you inch toward the edge of the bed, you see him twitch. It’s subtle. The fingers of his right hand sort of jolt lightly in the air, and it’s over before you can even think about it, so you don’t. Instead choosing to forget as you move towards the window. 
Surprisingly, he still doesn’t move. All he does is breathe, letting the rise and fall of his chest ruin the image of his fixed stance. He’s nervous, like you, you determine. Scared, like you.
It motivates your movements, pushing you through the room until you’re standing in front of the window, reaching for it with shaky hands.
Why hasn’t he left yet?
You push open the window, slowly, watching his body begin to move towards it, his leg pushing through the moment you step away.
“What are you doing here?”
He doesn’t respond. At first, you assume it’s because he’s embarrassed and doesn’t know what to say but then he moves. Lifelessly, he brushes past you and wanders into the living room, forcing you to follow as he drops onto the couch with a groan. 
Seriously, why is he here?
You open your mouth to repeat your previous question but are interrupted by his mask. Almost instantly, it disintegrates before your very eyes, revealing fresh injuries that have you holding your tongue because laying there, he looks like Peter after a rough night. Maybe even worse thanks to the shiner that takes a good portion of his left eye. 
“Do you have any painkillers?” 
You don’t even respond before you leave the room, wandering into your bathroom to grab the usual meds you give Peter. They’re prescription, originally given to you for period cramps, but they do wonders on a battered body.
When you reenter, Miguel’s face is scrunched in pain, struggling to find comfort. Because of this, you practically run to the kitchen, grabbing all the usual items: water, ice packs, scotch, carrying it all in one go. 
“What’s the scotch for?”
You untuck a glass from the crook of your elbow and settle on the floor beside the couch, pouring it halfway to the top before downing it.
“None for me?”
You pour another one. “You’re not meant to take it with pills but Peter always says it makes him sleep better.”
“Okay.” 
You’re no doctor, but you’ve experienced this same formula countless times. If he takes one pill with one full glass of water then drinks the scotch, followed by another water he’ll be out like a light in no time.
“Pill, water, scotch, water,” you instruct, watching him closely as he follows suit, chugging back everything in under a minute.
After it’s done he settles into the couch again, tucking ice packs against his face and chest before glancing your way with a grin. “Stuff’s nice. Goes down good.”
He sounds like he’s been hit by a bus, his voice rubbed raw, scratching your brain in a way that makes you squint as you pour yourself another glass.
“Good cause it cost a pretty penny.” 
“Yeah?”
You nod, opting to sip this one, still feeling the burn of the other radiating throughout your chest. “Ben bought it for me. A graduation present or something.” 
“Wasn’t that ages ago?”
“Your point?”
All he does is grin and close his eyes.
-
TAGGING: @fandxmslxt69 @buckysblondie @leucoratia @avatricu @rexxesgirl @hoe4fiction @erissco @dil3mma @ashjbu @mfrnchsk @sanjisluvbot @deputy-videogamer (if you'd like to be added fill out this form)
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bettyfrommars · 9 months
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I saw a post yesterday or the day before where someone was saying that this side of fic world was quiet and there was not much to read. It made me sadddd because there are so many talented writers still blogging away, and so I decided to make a list of recs with recent stuff I've enjoyed. I have a very small page and not much reach, but hopefully a few of you can find a couple new ones here to sink your teeth into.
If you are a friend of mine and I missed you on this list, pls know that I'm a fan of edibles and I forget things. But I will probably do a couple of these.
I'm not going to organize them into groups, because these are all good regardless of the main.
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(in no particular order)
Pick up, will you? - @somnambulic-thing
rockstar!Eddie in this one and Somna is such a creative genius, you will thank me if you are able to go through their Masterlist. One of the more underrated creatives on this app, everything they put out is gold.
As Above, So Below -@jo-harrington
Kas!Eddie for the vampire/monsterfuckers out there. This story is so rich, Jo is one of those fic writers that make me say out loud: Wait, we get this for FREE?? Highly recommend.
Wasted Years - @neonghostlights
rockstar!Eddie and 90's au! Bee is one of those fic writers that make you want to consume everything they put out so fast because they are all SO good. Plus, she's just genuinely an amazing person and deserves to be supported/protected at all costs.
Exile in Guyville - @chestylarouxx
90s au Eddie, and let me tell you that I am not one of those who waits around for a fic to warm up or get good---this story will grab you right from the start and literally transport you to the 90's. Plus, Eddie is soooo hot in this. Please, you will love it.
WAIT HOLD ON LET ME TALK ABOUT GATOR TILLMAN FOR A SECOND
Joe Keery is about to be in the next season of Fargo as Gator Tillman and @courtingchaos did their own breathtaking spin on him. The creativity is out the roof, y'all. @usedtobecooler also gifted us with some Gator content that had me on my knees the other day. These are the only two I know of, but let me know if there are others so I can check them out!
S.J. - @lesservillain
Less just decided to drop the most beautiful story on us last night as I was about to go to sleep 😭 Based on the most wonderful Black Mirror episode ever, the way she made this her own is just breathtaking and sad in the best way.
Saccahrine - @pepsimunson
The rockstar!Eddie smut that you've been dreaming of, for real. This is one of those fics with a lot of parts already published, so you can really sink in an enjoy.
all of Drac's Sapphic Summer - @dr-aculaaa
really tho, the creativity and work she has put into these beautiful fics is insane. The Robin Buckley Y2K one is my favorite so far...it will give you the best nostalgia tingles. Seriously, you will fall in love with these.
Sea Stars and Sunshine - @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint
Steve Harrington Summer Love🫠 Another win for this writer, I love everything they create. This story will taste like summer and sand on your tongue as you read it, for real. All the beach vacation vibes...it honestly feels like a warm hug from Steve, chest hair and all.
There are also a handful of popular creators on here writing their hearts out for us all on literally a daily basis, and if you ever have any fic recs, please send them to me!
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yarrystyleeza · 3 months
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Art vs Artist (2023)
This year was insane y'all, it was definitely centered around Matt and Madilyn, but I did enjoy every drawing I made, they're all so dear to me. Some of them—unfortunately and sadly didn't have a chance to get posted.
(I'm planning on doing another 2023 recap but "from the vault" edition since I have a couple that I never posted here before)
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Thanks to everyone who made it through this year with me, it was really fun and to get all this support from you guys is really the best thing ever happened this year, hopefully I can make more and more art next year for all of you to see, love you all! 🥰💗✨
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spikedsoul · 9 months
Note
Can I please request a sequel to the small Drabble you wrote on Bowser meeting his future children, the Koopalings and Junior? Only this time they accidentally brought one more person on their mission, their baby sister. Who somehow snuck on the back of one of their shells, and she can’t even WALK yet. Quick no one tell Queen Mama! 🤣
((I'm super sorry this is so late😭hopefully this makes up for it......................................))
Bowser rubbed his face as he listened to those crazy koopa kids bickering outside his room. This was the second time they'd found him, once again claiming to be his kids from the future... yet there was still zero indication Peach would give it up... wait.
Didn't they tell him last time that he needed to give up on Peach? He would never! But it probably isn't a bad idea to just... y'know, keep looking, right? Not put all his eggs in one basket?
"I'm tellin' you the more we come back to this time, the more we risk actually fucking things up!" he heard Roy tell his siblings. Roy was the pushiest, the one most against these apparent missions, but Ludwig was the one in control of these little escapades.
"Ludwig is positive it'll eventually work," one of the twins replied. He wasn't sure if it was Lemmy or Iggy.
"What, just so the oaf is happier earlier in his life?" Roy muttered. "What if he doubles down on Peach? I'm tellin' you, any more than this will fuck things up!"
Bowser groaned quietly to himself; how the fuck was this happening? Randomass kids worrying about his happiness, telling him Princess Peach, the love of his life, is not actually the love of his life and to forget her instead... are they insane?! Maybe if he lies and says he'll lay off of this Peach thing, they'll go away...
A light touch to the top of his foot made him nearly jump out of his skin from the unexpectedness, but he froze the moment he looked down.
A tiny, redheaded human infant looked up at him from the floor, her little hands resting on his scaly foot.
"Papa!" she chirped happily, holding her arms up to be picked up.
Silence immediately fell on the other side of the door. He bent down, gingerly picking up the baby girl, and held her close; she wasted no time tucking against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. His mind reeled as he gazed down at her, utterly stunned that this fragile, tiny thing was... was his.
There was no denying that her hair was the same color as his, even the texture as he gently ran a finger over her soft head.
"Spitfire?" Wendy called.
The little baby made an affirmative sound and instantly Bowser knew how big the kids fucked up - there was copious swearing suddenly coming from the other side of the door.
...They accidentally let their baby sister join them. Were they dumb? What were they thinking?!
Bowser scowled and finally turned around, yanking his door open; the kids all wilted a little under his intense glare as he held Spitfire close to him.
"How irresponsible can ya get," he growled quietly at them; none of them could meet his gaze, even Roy who'd been against the idea from the start. "What if y'all left and this poor sweet girl in the wrong time, huh? Somethin' tells me you're gettin' lucky with these time shenanigans. Go home, and if y'all are tellin' me the gotdamn truth, expect some punishment!"
He was careful to keep his voice low so as not to upset the baby nestled happily against him. Despite the harsh warning, Junior boldly stepped forward and pointed at the bundle in Bowser's arms.
"Okay, but just know that her mother isn't Peach," the little look-a-like stated.
Bowser's gaze snapped down to the baby. Not from Peach, huh... okay, that was actually convincing. If giving Peach up meant he'd eventually get to meet this precious daughter of his, then absolutely he'd drop her like a fucking stone! A human daughter meant someone actually gave him the time of day... and enjoyed his company...
Spitfire sneezed softly into him, and he felt the unmistakable heat of fire singing his chest scales.
"Her mother will hear about this little escapade," he warned as he forced himself to hand her over to Wendy, who was hovering anxiously nearby.
"How?" Morton snorted, "You don't even know the woman yet!"
Bowser smirked dangerously at them as they gathered in the same area to go home. "Not yet... but you can bet I'll remember this little interaction later. So yes, I'll be tellin' her mother."
The last thing he saw before they disappeared was a bunch of pale, terrified faces, plus one happy baby making grabby hands at him.
They were so fucked when they got home with Little Red.
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bbygirl-obi · 5 months
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Asking purely out of curiosity here, but did you read the Revenge of Sith novelisation?
Maybe I’m seeing things because I’m obsessed with that book (to a frankly insane degree), but your Anakin POV is giving off the same vibes and I absolutely adore EV already
thank you!! the answer is partially? i haven't read the book in its entirety bc i think it would make me too sad (lmao) but i HAVE formed an obsession over passages that i've found posted here to tumblr dot com. from what i've seen i really enjoy matthew stover's characterization and his writing style. maybe that's a bit narcissistic because i also tend to write things that are very character-heavy and very dramatic and use lots of commas and italics, but still!
and i did take the idea of anakin having a dragon (?) inside him from one passage i saw. i thought it was fitting that anakin would try to externalize or otherize the parts of himself he's most ashamed of, rather than acknowledging they're just as much a part of him as everything else is. i plan on echoing the "there is no dragon" passage at some point.... but sideways and to the left in a way that will hopefully still be new and interesting for y'all.
i'm also now using this as an excuse to compile all of the passages from the novelization that i've read and remembered hehe. in no particular order:
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(via @obiwan-needs-a-hug)
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(via @lummox-exe)
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(via @currentlyonstandbi)
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(via @whumpspacesw)
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(via @goldendaffodilskenobi)
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(via @myasphodelmeadow)
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(via @dininginspace)
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(via @lummox-exe)
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(via @noweakergirl)
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Izzy Amnesia Fic Update Part 4?
This will hopefully be the final writing update I have to make for this fic because it really does look I'll be able to finish writing it tomorrow (thank god), but today we clocked in at 21k, making this officially 1/4th the length of a "season" of this series (I know it might be hard to believe for someone who doesn't aim for any particular word count, just writes until the story/chapter feels like it's been fleshed out/hit its stopping point as organically as possible, but somehow, with no effort to make them the same length, both Seasons 2 and 3 of this series ended up 78.1k and 78.3k words respectively, absolutely insane that they're that close) BEFORE I'M EVEN DONE WRITING IT. That's the level of brainrot I have right now on this concept- and can you believe that when I started writing this idea, I was worried that I had lost my Izzy/Lucius/Pete muse because I'd written so much for Jim/Archie/Olu and Izzy had just kind of hit the end of his natural character arc in the series as a whole? BOY did Season 1 Izzy bite me with a vengeance.
Hope I get this done tomorrow and that all of y'all enjoy this monster as much as I do!
@khruschevshoe @possumsmushroom @little-bloodied-angel @fool-for-luv
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danses-with-dogmeat · 2 years
Note
Not kissu anon. It's great knowing that you're doing alright, and your work is always top notch. If you haven't gotten this ask already, could I request FNV companions' first kiss? GN! Six preffered.
FONV Companions React to their First Kiss with Six (Part 1)
Yay! Love for the NV crew :3
Sorry this took so long, folks! Turns out, March decided to be one of the most ~insane~ months of my life, but hopefully (fingers crossed) I'm back at it for a bit! (At least until finals lol).
Anyway, thanks again for all of your responses to who I should include for this! Part two will include the rest, and then I may do one more if I have time to research some of the characters I'm less familiar with.
Included Below: Arcade, Boone, Cass, Colonel Hsu, The King, Ulysses, & Vulpes
I hope y'all enjoy this one! It was so incredible to write, and I think it turned out pretty darn special, even if it is long as hell 😅
Also, here is Part One and Part Two of this prompt with FO4 Companions and F!Sole.
Arcade:
Arcade huffed in annoyance, his grip on his glass tightening as if he were trying to squeeze the last drops of alcohol from it as he looked on towards the bar. His glasses judgmentally tipped down onto his nose at the sight before him and he fought the urge to slam his glass down against the table.
Alright, you’ve got your drink, and contrary to popular belief, you’re actually not obligated to chat with the bartender for a hundred years after the fact.
One hand came up to run through his hair, and Arcade cleared his throat loudly. The sound was lost under the din of the bar, but he hoped if his companion caught his eye, they’d be able to feel his annoyance percolating from his gaze. They never turned though, instead, Six laughed. Their smile brightened their eyes, and they threw their head back in mirth as the bartender looked on with a smirk. Arcade’s jaw clenched, and much as he had the urge to down the remainder of his drink, he couldn’t pull his eyes from the pair on the other side of the room.
Why does this bother me so much? Why should I care? Has Six even shown any interest in me at all? Do I really want to complicate everything more than it already is?
Arcade let out an audible groan at the thoughts rattling through his head as he watched Six come down from their breathlessness.
Relationships have always gone so well for me in the past. Always been such a breeze, just like everything in my life. What could possibly go wrong now?
The doctor wished he had the ability to tear to pieces the alphabetized list within his head of all the reasons he couldn’t date his companion. Even more than that, he desperately wanted to forget all of the excuses he’d thought of in order to completely ignore that very same list. The two contradicting considerations he was contemplating drove him to near madness. He’d thought the headaches had come from the sun– well, that, and the red hue that constantly rose to his cheeks when his companion was near, but he's always known that those explanations were barely believable at best. At worst, it was a shining beacon, declaring his insecurity towards his own feelings to the whole of the Mojave, Six included, should they pay him any mind at all.
I’m always just making excuses, aren't I?
Bonum est faceit. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I just be happy dying alone? There are plenty of people who do it. I’m not sure if they’re necessarily happy, but at least they don’t spend 86% of their internal monologue arguing with themselves.
You do have other priorities, brain. Strange as it may seem, I don’t just keep you around for the witty comebacks and self loathing you supply, nor for your (clearly) superior romantic ability, and overall faultlessness in discovering and wooing ideal life partners.
No, believe it or not, doctors occasionally require something more of their brains. Something more logical, with an affinity for efficient problem-solving, and life-saving accuracy.
But that’s fine. This is fine.
Arguing with myself is just as important as discovering a cure to an otherwise incurable disease. Or finding an effective way to grow certain plant life that can help aid the thousands that perish from dehydration every year. Any of that, really, would be useful.
But this is just as well.
Arcade blinked hard in disbelief at the sight of the bartender’s hand grazing over Six’s, the jarring action tearing him from his internal argument with himself. Before he knew what he was doing, Arcade’s grip tightened on his glass even further, popping it out from between his fingers and sending it plummeting to the hardwood floor below. He cringed as the glass shattered over the ground, drawing the attention of both the courier and their inexorabilis meretrix on the other side of the counter.
Arcade cursed under his breath as the pair readied to approach.
How am I going to explain this?
Oh wait… I suppose, it’s not completely out of character for me to be a clumsy mess…
“Had too much already, Arcade?” Six’s voice forced his eyes up from their place on the ground, where he was trying in vain to sweep the sharp bits of broken glass into a pile with his bare hands.
Why the hell am I doing this? Faex, I suppose it’s because I love becoming emotionally, physically and mentally inept at the mere thought of the person I spend 94% of my time with.
Arcade huffed as he rose again to his feet, fighting back a smirk as the bartender kneeled to clean the mess.
“So sorry about that, by the way. My companion here is right, I’m such a lightweight these days. Can’t even be trusted to sit on a stool alone. Really, it’s quite the inconvenience.”
“It’s not a problem, it happens a lot. Here, I’ll just take all this to the back.”
“Thank you,” Six pitched in, “I’ll see you around, alright? I’d better stick with him. You know, just in case he gets his hands on another glass.”
Arcade let out a humorless chuckle, folding his hands over his chest indifferently.
“Right, thanks… Six, was it?” The bartender threw them a sickening smile, and Arcade had to fight back a groan.
“Yeah. Good to meet you.”
The bartender nodded to Six one last time before turning away from them. Arcade only muttered a “good riddance” as they brushed past him on their way back to the counter.
“Is everything okay with you? You really haven’t had that much to drink, and you–”
“Oh, everything is fine. Just peachy. Never been better, really. Not in all my life.”
“Never been more sarcastic in all your life, you mean.”
Arcade snorted at that, unable to meet their gaze. He just knew his face was growing redder by the minute.
Maybe I can blame that on the alcohol as well. Seems to be working for me so far.
“Alright doctor, out with it. What’s bugging you?”
Their voice was firmer this time, and they side-stepped into his line of sight with their hands on their hips. Finally, Arcade turned his reluctant forest gaze to fixate on the courier, trying desperately to keep his crimson hue and flared nostrils to a relatively unnoticeable level.
“If you don’t know, you don’t know. I can’t just tell you.” His mouth spat out before he could rein the sass back in.
Why the hell does this all bother me so damn much? Is the courier really the end-all, be-all for me? Are they really it? I’ve thought that before about a few others, and that never quite seemed to work out. Why would now be any different? Why blow it with the only friend I’ve got out here? Is it really worth the trouble? The risk?
“You can, Arcade.” The doctor jolted from his thoughts as the courier’s hand fell to rest on one of his folded arms. “I want to know what’s wrong.”
He swallowed thickly, just feeling the pink spread up to his ears at this point as his companion took another step closer to him.
Pedicabo ego. Here we go.
Arcade took a breath, the hint of concern in Six’s eyes spurring him forward, hurtling towards a confession he sure as hell wasn’t ready to voice; but that he absolutely needed to let out.
If it really goes so badly now, at least I can walk away. Not sure that could be said in a month or two. They really do have me hooked, don't they?
“Alright Six, you want to know what’s wrong? Well, let me tell you. Let me just tell you everything.”
His gaze dropped to their dusty, worn shoes for a brief vacation from their inquiring stare. A moment of respite and contemplation before throwing himself into a tangle of thoughts and words and emotions once again.
“When I first met you, I’ve gotta admit, I wasn’t sure our partnership would amount to much. Frankly, I was bored, and you were a way out of that. But then�� Then you became so much– Man, don't I sound just like a romance cliché..." He shook his head, blond hair flopping wildly at the motion as he forced himself to carry on.
"But you became more than just, well, just that. More quickly than I ever would’ve thought, you became so import–”
“Oh! Yes, thank you. I didn’t even realize I was out.”
“--tant to me…” Arcade lifted his head at the sound of Six’s voice, at the interruption, at another instance where the bartender just had to butt their obnoxiously chiseled nose into the conversation. Their hand brushed over Six’s as they handed over a refill, and Arcade had to bite his tongue to keep from lashing out with fists and words.
It was all he could do to keep himself from tackling them to the ground, and he generally didn’t tend to consider himself as being a violent person. Something about this bartender though… Something about them just made him want to–
“Well, thank you again! But we are actually just going to head back for the night. My partner and I are all partied out, I think.”
Before Arcade could get another thought in, the courier had handed the drink back to the bartender, grabbed onto his hand, and hauled him through the crowd of bar goers, drifters and entertainers, pulling him along until they reached the exit. They only stopped when the meager lamplight and din of the bar was behind them, and they were encased in darkness, calming silence, and warm desert air. The moon shone boldly through Six’s eyes as they rounded to face him, an unreadable but undoubtedly intense expression upon their face.
How much of my speech did they actually listen to? … Honestly, hopefully none. He found himself hoping, probably in vain.
“I see now.”
“Hmm?” Arcade blinked, genuinely curious. They really could mean anything by that.
“I see what had you so irked.”
“Alright… Irking aside, what– or, how much of the other bit did you actually–”
Arcade blinked once more, and when his eyelids lifted, Six was all at once pressed up against him, a fist balled at the collar of his lab coat, while their gently textured lips joined them to him. His glasses got scrunched up against the bridge of his nose as Arcade leaned forward to meet their contact, eyes fluttering back shut as his hands moved to Six’s hips of their own accord. He shuddered as Six’s hand snaked up from his collar to tug lightly at the baby blond hairs at the nape of his neck, and he felt himself gasp, his breath pulling in the intoxicating taste of his partner to graze over his wanton tongue.
The doctor felt his fingers flex at Six's sides, pulling lightly at the fabric of their shirt, begging them to stay pressed to him just a moment longer.
This is easier, actually. No words, no thoughts, no bartender; just us. Just them.
Slowly, teasingly, Six parted from him, leaving their lower lip to linger against his as their eyes fell open and they pulled away completely.
“I was listening.” They told him softly.
The doctor huffed a sigh of relief, one hand coming up to his chest as the object of his foolish affections beamed at him in the soft moonlight.
“And you’re important to me too, Arcade. Much more important than some silly bartender could ever be.”
He released a pent up chuckle at that, one hand moving up to rub at the back of his neck as he felt heat wash over his face.
"Ah, yes," he said between partially gritted teeth, "noticed that, did you?"
"Oh, hon, I think the whole bar noticed that." One of Six's hands came up to fiddle with Arcade's collar again, and he felt himself shudder at their touch.
"But you know what?" Six's eyes locked with his as they spoke, pupils blown wide with affection, or just due to the low light, Arcade didn't know. He knew what he wanted it to be though. Sure as heat in a desert, his eyes were telling them the story of his own fondness.
"What?" He breathed.
"I thought it was cute." They leaned forward and pecked him quickly on the lips, barely allowing him time to react before pulling away again. He tried to keep his eyebrows from scrunching in disappointment as a little grin graced their evasive lips.
"Now, as you were saying back there, before we were so rudely interrupted?"
Arcade's eyes widened and he swallowed thickly.
Guess I'm not getting a pass on that confession of mine after all. Oh well. Now, knowing what I do, I suppose it might just be worth it.
Boone:
Boone removed his sunglasses with one hand, careful not to jar Six where they leaned against his shoulder, their lips releasing soft puffs of air over his chest as they fell deeply into sleep's embrace. He set the glasses on the bedside table as quietly as he could manage, shifting ever so slightly on Six's rickety Novac bed so their head would fall more comfortably into the crook of his shoulder.
Boone could feel sleep tugging at his own eyelids as he glanced down at his companion's own peaceful expression; exhausted as Boone was though, he didn’t understand how they could be sleeping already, after all that had happened today. His heart still felt like it was beating out of his chest; despite the comforting sense of closure that seemed to wash over him in the face of the pairs’ accomplishment.
Finally, Caesar was made to answer for the horrific things he’s done. And he had been the one lucky enough to put the bastard down for good. Truthfully, Boone hadn’t felt this content, this at peace, in ages. He’d damn near smiled at the corpse as the great leader fell to his knees in front of him, then down into his own puddle of crimson, and the dusty, sun-baked earth below.
Six shifted against him, pulling Boone from his thoughts as one of their hands fell into his lap, and their head tilted to face him, one cheek still pressing firmly against his shoulder. He felt a warmth spread across the sensitive skin of his neck as their breath ghosted over him, inciting a crop of goosebumps to grow and spread across the exposed skin. Despite himself, a small grin crept to his lips.
Before Six, Boone never would have dreamt of surviving such an ordeal as they'd been through today.
He wouldn’t have wanted to.
Boone wasn’t a genius, but he wasn’t a fool either, he knew what was coming to him, what he was due, what he deserved; after everything he's done. He’d always hoped that the courier wouldn’t have to be a part of that sentence, as Carla was, as his unborn child was… Even with this new source of sanity, this new reason to live by his side, tucked warmly against him, breathing life and color into a world he'd thought would never be anything but bleak and lifeless again; even now, he couldn’t forget what he'd done at Bitter Springs. What he'd done in all his time as a soldier, all the lives he was responsible for snuffing out, and he sure as hell could never forget how he’d paid for it all. But he earned his pat on the back from karma today. This was one kill he could never regret.
He was glad that he'd been spared today.
It surprised him. Even now, the thought confused him, his relief confused him. Boone always thought that this mission would've been the end for him, and he'd never minded that, but now... With Six, he was thankful to whatever god of fate it was that decided to spare him. If only because he didn't want this to be another tarnished victory, one that Six had to look back on with regret, or despondency.
What they'd done today was good, and they didn't need to regret a single thing about it.
Now though, now he owed Six an explanation. They helped him through everything, with their actions, their words, they even offered their life for him today, to help him get the closure they knew he needed to be able to move on… At least, move on as well as he possibly could.
They’d even told him that they cared for him.
Before the fight, before they'd made their way to the Fort, before it all began, they'd smiled, and had told him that no matter what happened that day, they wanted him to know, that they loved him.
And all he’d done was nod.
Boone hated himself for that. Hated his lack of a reaction, his inability to reciprocate, even when he knew the truth about his own feelings.
Six deserved better, and the way he knew he could care for them if he let himself... it scared the hell out of him. How could he let anyone get close to him again? After what had happened… He hasn’t yet paid what he's due, and anyone close to him was bound to be a part of that debt, but maybe, just maybe, what he’d done to Caesar, to the other red-feathered bastards, maybe that would buy him some time, some mercy from whatever it was that was forcing him to pay for his past actions.
Maybe now he could tell his companion the truth...
Boone's heartbeat renewed its vigor in his chest as he turned to face them. He wasn’t great with words, he never had been one to say much, or been one to say it well, but he had to tell Six something. He owed it to them, to tell them the truth. No matter how it scared him, how guilty he had felt when he realized the depth of his affection for them. It's still what they deserved, and he had no right to deny them that. Especially after learning of their feelings for him.
But he couldn’t wake them now, not after the day they’d had. Not when they looked so peaceful, when he felt so tranquil himself. No, he couldn't force them awake only to stutter out some half developed, too-short speech about his feelings that would no doubt consist of a single, unrefined sentence whispered too quietly for them to even decipher his words.
Boone's jaw clenched as he looked down at them, as he took in their calmed expression, and he reveled in the thought that they trusted him enough, that they felt safe and comfortable enough to sleep pressed beside him like this. There was only one other person he knew who'd been able to do the same, and she was gone. She always would be gone, no matter how he might wish for things to be different.
And he had, by God, he had wished for that all to be some horrific nightmare, he'd begged and pleaded for the circumstances to change, for time to reverse, to wake up from that dreadful reality and find himself far away, in a place where he and Carla were safe, or even where he'd never met her, never been able to put her in danger the way he had, where he'd made her pay for mistakes that should've been his alone.
Of course none of it had worked. She would always be gone. There was nothing he could do about that, and he knew it. But Six... Six was here.
All he had to do was hope he would never feel that same regret again, that overcoming his grief and guilt wouldn't inevitably lead to more, that he would never have to wish so hard for something to change, that he would never again hope for his own demise so wholeheartedly.
Six had changed that. He hadn't thought it would be possible, but when he was with them... He didn't want to stop existing.
His reason for living had shifted. It wasn't rage, and regret and his own need for revenge that kept him going, that kept him from throwing himself into a situation he could never hope to escape, a battle he couldn't dream of winning, until he knew he could snuff out the lives that were responsible for so much pain in his life, and in so many others'. That spite and hatred had been what he needed to keep going for so long, and he wasn't quite sure the exact moment it had all changed, if it was gradual or all at once, but he knew his reasons were different now, that it wasn't his rage, it wasn't his guilt that kept him from firing that one single bullet he'd kept in the barrel of his otherwise useless handgun.
No, it was Six.
Before Boone could even process the action, before his thoughts of gratitude, of appreciation, of awe, of surprise, of love could dissipate and uncloud his mind, he was reaching one calloused hand forward towards their face, brushing a thumb across their cheek as gently as he would caress the last delicate petal of a wilting desert flower.
Still though, Six shifted at his touch, their face was tilting up at him perfectly, inviting his next motion so wholeheartedly that he found himself leaning in before he could even make the conscious decision to do so. Slowly, his lips met theirs. They did so so easily, so softly, quietly; barely meeting and lingering for only a few heartbeats before he pulled away again, his fatigue washing over him all at once as the contact calmed his haggard nerves and quieted his troubled thoughts.
“Thank you.” Boone whispered to them as he laid his head back against the wall, finally allowing his strained eyes to fall shut.
Not a moment later, the sniper nearly choked as he felt Six shift. Their head left it’s place against his shoulder, and the spot beside him quickly grew cold as they vacated it, moving slowly away from him on the bed.
Shit.
Boone hoped they weren’t angry with him, he didn’t know how to explain what he’d just done, all he knew was that he’d been quiet and dismissive when they told him about their feelings, and now, without discussing it, without warning, while they were asleep, he’d kissed them.
What was I thinking?
The mattress creaked as Six moved, and Boone held his breath as he imagined them getting off the bed, as he thought of them leaving him for his foolishness, for his unprompted action, for his cowardice in the face of his own clear reciprocation of their feelings, and his refusal to admit what was obvious when they'd first expressed their own affection for him. He thought of opening his eyes briefly, prepared to choke something out in an effort to get them to stay, before he felt the air in front of him grow warmer, the space more claustrophobic.
In the next instant, Six's mouth was back on his, just as calm, and still as his had been on theirs. The movement was unrushed, undemanding, it was tranquil. His heart didn’t race, or leap in his chest, there was no fire in his veins, or sweat on his palms; Boone only felt at peace in the comfort of their soft touch, and he leaned forward just so to better meet it, to convey in touch what his voice couldn’t quite seem to reveal.
I love you too.
Cass:
“Two beers, please.” Six slid a few caps onto the counter as the bartender turned to the row of bottles behind them.
“Damn, thought I could beat ya here and buy you a drink myself.” A man with rough features and a rougher voice leaned over the bar, casting a long shadow over the pile of tin on the dull, wooden surface.
“Guess you missed your chance, sorry.” Six took the two beers that were placed on the counter in hand, and tried to turn away from the imposing figure, but a gruff hand grasped their arm before they could escape.
“Now, you seem to be in an awful big hurry.” He growled, lowering his face to the point that his long nose was shaded by the brim of Six’s hat.
“No, I-I just–” Six’s heart beat in their chest as the man continued to invade their space.
“Why? You here with someone else?” His breath reeked of strong whiskey and chewing tobacco, and the heat of it made Six’s eyes water as they struggled to answer his question.
“Yeah, they are. So why dontcha fuck off.” Cass’s arm wrapped around Six’s shoulder as she approached them from behind, her chin tilting upwards as she looked up her nose at the guff man invading her friend’s space.
He scoffed at her. “You? Yeah, sure. I seen you in here all by your lonesome for months. This newcomer’s got nothin’ to do with you, ‘n you know it. Fuck off yourself.”
Cass’s arm tightened its grip around their shoulders, and Six held their breath, waiting for their companion to strike first, waiting for her to throw their agreement not to get kicked out of any more bars into the dust. She let out a deep exhale, and though Six couldn’t see it, they knew her gaze was blazing with barely contained fury.
It was easy to piss Cass off, and she’s tanned hides for less than this guy was doing. To her credit, the glare did enough to get him to take a step back, but he still looked down on the pair with defiance.
Prove to me you ain’t lying. His hooded eyes demanded.
“Maybe you otta pay better attention there, old timer. Cuz this one? They’re mine.” Suddenly Cass’s other hand came up to grasp roughly at the collar of Six’s shirt, and her lips crashed into theirs.
The courier very nearly dropped the bottles in their hands at the force of their companion’s kiss; and though the roughness of it, the suddenness, should’ve made it rigid and unpleasant, the contact was neither of those things.
Cass's lips were softer than any one part of her personality, and though her knuckles dug into Six’s neck from where she grasped at them firmly, her lips yielded gently to their reciprocation, kneading against Six’s own for one blissful moment before she pulled away.
“Now.” Cass’s attention snapped back to the man briefly, fixing him with a smug look before she turned back to Six, her hand releasing their collar to grab her hat from where it rested atop their head, placing it back on hers. “As I said before... Fuck. Off. Thanks.”
She grabbed at Six's collar once more, not even gracing the stranger with a parting look as she dragged Six back to a high table in the corner of the bar.
“Can you even believe the nerve of him? Fuckin’ bastard.” She pried a beer out of one of Six’s hands, even as the courier just stared blankly ahead at nothing at all. They slowly took a seat in their chair across from their companion, but made no further moves as Cass settled in and took a sip of her drink.
“If he scared ya that bad, it really is a wonder yer still alive. An' it’s got nothing to do with that Benny asshole and his shit aim neither.” Cass chuckled to herself as she kept her gaze trained on the shell-shocked courier.
It was like they hadn’t even heard her. She turned around briefly, glancing around the bar for a moment before turning back.
The hell are they staring at?
“He rip out your tongue when I wasn’t lookin’?”
Six blinked, shaking their head until their eyes seemed to focus in on the physical realm, rather than whatever imaginary land they had passed into.
“Why are you acting like nothing just happened?” They asked her quietly, their full, neglected beer still firmly clasped in their white-knuckled grasp.
“He didn’t getcha, I made sure of that. What’s the problem?” Cass took another drink, still unconcerned with whatever it was Six seemed to be struggling with.
“He’s not what I’m talking about.”
Cass lowered her bottle from her lips, brows furrowing at her companion’s response.
“What, then?”
“We just kissed! We’ve never done that before, never even talked about it!”
The caravaneer’s eyebrows rose high on her head.
I didn’t think that little thing would shake ‘em up like this. What did they want me to do?
“Well, sorry, Six,” she said, “I jus’ was tryin’ to keep my word. You said no more bar fights, and the old timer wouldn’t leave ya alone, so I had to try somethin’ different.”
“Oh.” Their expression fell from their face like rain from a bloated cloud. Now Cass really didn’t know what to say.
“What?”
“Well… I don’t know, I thought…”
Cass looked on as Six trailed off, their face flushed, eyes refusing to meet hers as they twiddled their thumbs on the table top. She sighed deeply, tipping her bottle up for a drink before indicating that they do the same.
“Come on then, drink some beer and spill it to me.” The courier did as she suggested, taking a long swig of diluted liquid courage before forcing the words from their tightening throat. They grimaced like it was a shot of cheap tequila, but to their credit, they decided to speak up.
“I thought the kiss might have meant something more than that." Six admitted quietly, "I mean, with the way I look at you, and the way I talk to you… I just thought maybe you’d finally caught on.”
“Caught on?" Cass's eyes widened at her realization, "You mean…”
“Yeah... I-I hope it doesn’t ruin anything, you know, between you and me. I’m fine being friends and everything, it’s just… Well, I’ve felt this way for a while now, so… Guess I’m just glad you know now.”
“Well shit.” Six flinched visibly at her response, and Cass rushed to continue, feeling oddly flustered as the words left her mouth, “I jus’ guess I hadn’t really thought about it before… Or maybe, I don’t know. Jus’... Gimme one second.” Six’s brows furrowed as Cass stood up from her chair.
The caravaneer downed the rest of her beer, slammed the bottle down on the table, and closed the space between the pair with a few steps. Six didn’t know how else to describe it, but their companion just regarded them for a moment or two, looking them up and down with the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the sides of her mouth.
“Yeah, this may just work yet.” Cass gave them a definitive nod, and Six grinned as she leaned forward and their lips met for the second time that night, Cass’s hand on their chin, the brim of her hat brushing over their forehead as their head swam and their ears burned. This one felt even more real than the last, more telling, more conclusive and soft, and genuine, and though it was already the second one of the night, Six sure hoped it wouldn’t be the last.
Colonel Hsu:
Hsu paced around his darkening office, his teeth gritted and his hands restless as they wrung out the material of his beret.
Three days they’ve been gone. Three. This should’ve taken one. At most.
He felt like a fool.
Regret was a difficult thing for a man in Hsu's position. If he dwelt on it too long, he knew he’d never dig himself out of the despair that was bound to set in when he counted all of the lives he was responsible for losing.
Still though, that didn’t mean he could overlook credit where it was due.
He’s the one that sent Six on this mission, and if they never returned, their death would be on his shoulders, same as the man he sent them in after.
Anders was one of the best. If he couldn’t make it out, how can they?
The Colonel didn’t want to think about what would be done to the courier if the Fiends didn’t kill them on sight. If he considered that thought long enough, he may just throw himself into Vault 3 on his own damn orders to try and get them out.
His hands clenched tightly at his beret as the sun settled itself below the horizon, casting an amber streak of light to bathe the room in dim gold. The Colonel threw the dark, rumpled head covering forcefully onto his desk and collapsed into his chair with a huff, his jaw sore from all its clenching, a metallic taste falling on his tongue as he bit into his cheek again.
Damn me.
How could this have felt like the right thing to do? The correct action to take? The courier had done enough for the NCR, for his soldiers at McCarran already, and how did he reward them for their loyalty? By sending them into a den of chem addicts and psychopaths to be defiled and dismembered?
Hsu sighed, his head aching with lack of rest, and he drew his hands up to his face, leaning his elbows on the desk in front of him as he waited in vain for the throbbing to subside.
A creak of his door made him wince beneath his palms, and he spoke without looking up.
“What is it?”
“Sorry.” A familiar voice echoed over the hardwood of his desk, and the Colonel's eyes shot open. “I probably should’ve knocked first. I didn’t mean to disturb you, sir, but I wanted to let you know that I returned. And the mission was a success. Motor-Runner is dead.”
“Six.” He breathed, wrenching his hands from his face and standing so suddenly that his chair clattered back to the floor behind him, causing the courier in the doorway to jolt in surprise. Hsu’s eyes were wide as he fixed them with his incredulous stare, and they seemed to regard him with equal bewilderment.
“I… brought you his helmet. As proof.” Six tentatively closed the distance between them as they stepped forward, placing the bloodied helmet onto his desk before taking one step back. Hsu rounded the desk himself, looking on in awe at the absurd ram’s head helmet as he leaned back against the desk top. He’d never been this close to it before, never thought he would get the chance.
Everyone else he’d sent, every attempt the NCR had made on the Fiend leader’s life, it had all been for nothing, until now. He swallowed, trying to hold back everything that he wanted to say to the courier, every word of praise and surprise, relief and sentiment that ran rampant through his cluttered, overworked, overtired mind.
I need to be careful, before I say something I might regret. But before anything else, I have to know one thing.
“Anders?” He asked, his gaze moving to meet their hazy eyes as his brows creased together in concern.
Six was clearly even more exhausted than he was. He wondered if he even wanted to hear their report. The tales of the Fiends could wring any average man’s gut, and even Hsu found himself repulsed by the group’s actions out in the open.
But under that vault? Behind closed, locked doors, away from the light, from civilized man? He didn’t want to think of the profanity and carnage they could muster, that Six had inevitably been forced to witness first-hand, in the dark of their infamous pit.
“Anders is with the medic. He’s alright, a bit shaken up, but still alive. Sir.” There was a pause before they addressed him, and Hsu couldn’t fight the small grin that tugged at his lips as their words met his ears.
“Well, I am astounded, courier. And immeasurably glad to see you back in one piece.”
“Immeasurably, huh? That’s quite a lot.” Despite the fatigue in their expression, Six grinned toothily at him, clearly enjoying the well-deserved praise. Hsu only winced.
That really was overdoing it, huh?
He cleared his throat before speaking again. “It’s true. Most of the men here were convinced I’d sent you to your death, admittedly... I was among them. So, I’m relieved to see you back here. I didn’t need another loss on my conscience right now.”
Six’s smile fell from their lips, and another look overwhelmed their features. Annoyance? Anger? Disgust? Hsu felt himself begin to sweat.
“Oh yeah, no, that would be horrible for you.” They said, their voice cutting through the room with the sting of a serrated combat knife. “I’d only be dead, but we’d never want your peace of mind to be disturbed on my account.” Their eyes blazed in the growing darkness of the room, and Hsu swallowed thickly. The Colonel couldn't recall ever having such difficulty speaking with one of his soldiers before.
Why the devil is this so hard?
“Forgive me,” He panicked, standing up straight from where he leaned on the desk, his eyes falling to the floor as though he was an unruly private who’d just spoken out against his superior officer. “I didn’t mean it quite like it came out.”
“I’m tired, Colonel.” Six sighed and began to turn away from him, “I’ll bring you my report in the morning, and you can give me the caps you promised. Then I’ll be out of your hair. I wouldn’t want to damage your conscience further by hanging around the camp and getting my head blown off or something. Goodnight.”
Hsu’s eyes widened at Six’s dismissal, and before his now infamous conscience could stop him, his hand reached out to grab firmly at the courier’s arm.
“Wait, Six.” He felt them stiffen in his grasp, but held firm even as they whipped around to face him, their eyes nearly as wide as his own at the sudden contact. Hsu tried not to let himself dwell on the fact that this was the first time he’d actually touched them before.
“Please, let me apologize properly.”
Six didn’t speak in response, and they pulled themself from his grasp, folding their arms over their chest in a show of their indignation. To their credit though, they didn’t try to leave.
Hsu’s hand released them and retreated back to clasp with the other one behind his back as he unwittingly assumed the comforting position typical to a commanding officer.
“Six, you’ve been a great help to us ever since your arrival here at camp, and many of my soldiers have grown fond of you, and your assistance here. None more so than me.”
Six’s eyes widened at that, their stern expression beginning to lift as Hsu tried to hold their gaze, even amidst his uncharacteristically open words of commendation.
“To put it lightly, you were– are a godsend for us here at Camp McCarran. For me. I didn’t mean that your death would just be another of the many that weigh on me day-to-day, I always knew that such responsibilities were part of the job, but the others here, the others I could have sent in your place knew what they were getting themselves into when they enlisted with the NCR. You didn’t sign up for this the same way they did, and I regretted sending you only minutes after you left my office, only to find that you’d already set off to complete your mission.”
Without realizing it, Hsu began pacing in front of Six, small lines back and forth as he tried desperately to reel in his thoughts before letting them leave his mouth.
No one scrambled the Colonel’s brain like Six did. It was frustrating as all hell, and it didn’t help that he hadn’t slept properly in three days for all his worrying about them.
“Listen, don’t repeat this," he continued, more quietly this time, "but frankly, I didn’t trust anyone else to retrieve Anders and dispatch Motor-Runner without getting themselves killed. And it seems my faith was well-placed. If I’d been wrong though…”
Hsu stopped his pacing as he trailed off, wondering where he’d intended to go with this speech of his. He’d apologized, he’d given his reasons for doing and saying what he did, what was left?
He should have ended there, quit while he was ahead, stopped when that distracting smile appeared on the courier’s face, lighting up their fatigued features in such a way that it knocked the thoughts from his head and the words from his tongue.
“It wouldn’t have just been another death, an increase in the number that runs through my mind every night before I sleep, it would have been the fact that it was you who was gone now. Not one of my soldiers, the ones who agree to risk everything for the cause, the ones that I prepare myself to lose, as horrible as that sounds. You though, I haven’t prepared for, and the truth is, I’ve tried. Since you began taking orders from me, I knew that it was a possibility, and I wanted to prepare myself in the event that you were killed, but…”
Hsu didn’t look them in the eye as he stood before them, certain now that they had lost interest in what he was trying to say. He had a habit of rambling when he was nervous, but–
Why the hell am I nervous? I’m only telling them the truth. It should be a given, it should be easy. Why the hell is it so hard?
“I haven’t been able to get used to the idea. No matter what I try. The truth is... Six, I haven’t slept properly since you left. I was more worried than I have any right to be, and when I heard your voice, when you came through that door, I couldn’t believe my ears, my eyes, anything. I was so relieved, I could have, well…”
Words weren’t quite cutting it for the Colonel anymore, and as he trailed off, he lifted his eyes to meet Six’s, his mind quickly making a note of the smile on their lips before he jerked forward to capture them in his own.
Maybe it was the fatigue in both of them, maybe it was the relief he’d spoken of, maybe he’d just finally lost his mind, but Hsu couldn’t have fought back the urge in that moment if he’d tried. It was improper, it broke a dozen rules, he was sure, and it was certainly uncalled for from Six’s point of view, but to his sheer surprise, their own shock only caused a momentary recoil from them, before they pressed forward to meet him in the strangest kiss the Colonel had ever experienced.
Maybe they’d lost their mind as well.
Hsu could only hope so, as he brought his arms around them, one pressing them to him at the small of their back, the other rising to cradle the back of their head, encouraging them to deepen their contact with him. His heart soared when they complied, their own arms tangling around his shoulders and pulling him nearer.
The pair stood still for a moment, the world twisting and blurring around them, their lips kneading wantonly against the others in reciprocation of feelings that neither of them needed to speak. Hsu nearly groaned as he parted his lips to let Six’s tongue slip inside, his cheeks heating at the shamelessness of their action, and his own hasty allowance of it.
He was lost in them. He’d forgotten his place, his rank, their location, his own damn name even, as he let the pleasure of his euphoric relief wash over him. Not only the relief that they had returned to him unscathed, but also at the clear requited affection they harbored for him. Hsu grinned into them, his thumb stroking over their jawline, his left hand tightening around their side, before pausing abruptly.
His eyes shot open at a sound from behind Six. The sound of a man clearing his throat.
“Sorry sir, I’ll, um, I can leave you to it then.” Bryce Anders was in the doorway, eyes wide as he took in the sight of his superior officer pressed up against the courier, and before Hsu could pull away to voice a word, the Ranger had turned and shuffled away, quickly as he could with the crutch below his arm.
“I’ll come back in the mornin’! I trust you two’ll be done by then!” Anders shouted over his shoulder as he made his way down the hall and Hsu cringed physically as a blush overtook his heated face.
Much as he wanted to linger, the moment had been somewhat tattered by the ranger's intrusion, and Hsu reluctantly separated from the courier, allowing only his hands to remain upon them.
“I… ahem, I suppose I have something else I need to apologize for now, don’t I?”
They gave a small shrug as a lovely grin touched their enchanting lips.
“Yeah, maybe so." They said, "...To Anders at least. But me? I'd say I’m pretty damn content.”
Hsu took his bottom lip between his teeth as a thought crossed his mind. He knew he shouldn’t push it... but he was feeling bold, daring, and more alive than he’d felt in ages at the knowledge of Six's own affection for him. So, despite his better judgement, he spoke.
“Content enough to stay the night?”
They only laughed at him, staying firmly in his embrace, even as they good naturedly rolled their eyes.
"Don't push your luck, Colonel."
The King:
The King took another sip of his Nuka Cola as the last of the members took their leave of the theater. Rex sat beside him, leaning into the gang leader’s touch as he scratched under his chin. The empty glass was loud as he set it down on the hardwood table before him, the sound echoing through the large, empty room, and The King leaned back in his chair.
He didn’t feel like sleeping, he'd already ate and drank, he’d just thrown the butt of his last cigarette away into the ashtray on the table, and even Rex was settling down, lying at his feet as he pulled his hand away from the dog's chin.
He knew Pacer was up in the room with the groupies, having his fun, and The King didn’t mind, honestly, he just wanted to go out. It’d been ages since he went out on the strip and had a night to himself. He’d been too damn busy with all the chaos in Freeside to worry himself with a good time.
“Ah, well.” He sighed, glancing forlornly at his emptied glass as he spoke to Rex. “Guess we’ll save the shakin’, rattlin’, an’ rollin’ for another night, eh hound dog?”
Rex huffed beneath the table softly in response, clearly he was less open to the idea of a night out on the town than the old gang leader.
“Hmm, maybe you're right. Guess I’ll just get me another cola then, huh?” He stood from the small table, heading to the back of the concessions area for a new bottle. The whole of the school was quiet at this hour, most of the boys out in Freeside, now that the show had ended, and the others were likely out on the strip already, bound to be back in a couple hours.
Fewer still were asleep in their beds.
The King meant to grab a pack of cigarettes as well, but none were left down here. With just a Nuka bottle in-hand, he went back to his little table in the corner of the theater room, but stopped in his tracks at the sight of the figure before him.
Courier Six was leaning down, practically under the table, scratching Rex behind the ears and speaking to him softly. The King grinned wide at the sight.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Six laughed at that.
“It’s okay, I forgive you.” They stood and The King wound around the table, pulling out a chair and gesturing to it.
“Thank you.” They said as they took a seat, and he pushed it in for them before returning to his side of the table, taking his own seat across from them. “He is your dog though, so maybe I should be the one apologizing.”
“After all you done for him? Rex is as much yours as he is mine. This dog’s got a life because of you.” He poured half of the bottle of Nuka Cola into his empty glass, handing off the remains of the bottle to the courier. “Now, what can The King do for you this evenin’, darlin’?”
“Get me a stronger drink.” They said with a chuckle.
“Aw, angel, you know I don’t drink much. Sip on this cola with me, now, c’mon.” He held up his glass, and they brought the bottle to clink against it in a toast.
“To you, little darlin’, to life, and to such a night as this one.”
They both drank and set their glasses down at the same time, then Six drew their attention to their pocket, pulling a pack of cigarettes and placing it on the table.
“So, tell me, King, why are you out here in the dark all by yourself?”
“Oh, I ain’t alone, nah, I’ve got Rex here with me. What about you, darlin'? Are you lonesome tonight?” He held out a lighter to Six’s lips as they placed the cigarette in their mouth, and they puffed on it appreciatively before offering him the pack.
“It’s actually good to be alone. There’s been so much going on out there.” The courier jerked their chin towards the entrance, and The King nodded in understanding, lighting his own cig before pulling it from his lips to speak.
“These days really have been crazy. How’s the world treating you, Six?”
“Not too kindly, I’m afraid. Everywhere seems to be up in arms now, the impending battle at the dam just keeps getting closer, and I haven’t had a day off in weeks.” They took another drink of their Nuka Cola, the look of fatigue in their eyes and desperation in their action making their want for more potent liquid relief unmistakable. The King wished he’d grabbed a whiskey from the back now. He knew for them, the coke wouldn’t quite cut it.
“You’ve been doin’ all sortsa good in Freeside,” He tried to reassure them, “Really made the impossible dream come true. For me, anyways. The streets haven’t looked this good in what seems like years. You’ve really done good.”
Six smiled at him appreciatively, but their eyes were downcast, their expression weary.
“Golly, sure wish I could really show you my thanks proper like.” He continued, leaning forward ever so slightly, “You’ve been such a big help, doll, I really could just give you a big, wet kiss.”
At that, the courier's expression changed, a soft pink dusting their cheeks as they bit their lip. A small flash of nervousness overtook their expression, before flitting away as they met The King's gaze.
“Why don’t you then?” Six asked with a glint in their eye, giving him a little wink.
His heart skipped a beat.
The King always threw these little flirtations at them, little teases and hints that he may just look at the courier as something more than a bit of extra help around Freeside. Though, before now, he’d hardly realized that was really the true the reason. Still though, they'd never once responded in kind.
If they wanna play along, who am I to deny 'em?
“Baby, if that’s what you want me to do.” The King placed his cigarette down in the ashtray and stood up from the table. The legs of his chair slid loudly across the wood of the floor, and Six gazed expectantly up at him with mischief in their eyes.
The King halted briefly as a crackle sounded in the speakers by the stage.
This is Our Dance, by The King himself, began to play softly throughout the room, and this King smiled.
I’ll need to say a ‘thank you’ or two to the boys in the control room later.
“Whaddaya say, baby?” He held out a hand to them, “It’s now or never.” They rolled their eyes, putting out their cigarette in the tray, and took his hand in theirs.
The King led them to the center of the room, the clearest spot he could find amidst the chairs and tables, and pulled them in for a dance.
The pair quietly swayed around the room, letting the soft music guide their muted movements. If the courier was nervous, or unsure, The King couldn’t tell one bit. They felt comfortable in his arms, their body moving seamlessly with his to the gentle beat of the song.
He hummed along as he looked into their eyes, feeling like they were the only ones on this ruined earth in the uncharacteristic quiet of the main room. It wasn’t an ominous feeling, or a lonely one, as it had been before they’d come through the doors, no, now… The King couldn’t explain it.
It felt right.
Like the room should never have been used for anything but this, anything but his and Six’s slow dance amidst the empty chairs, and the gentle song echoing off of the walls surrounding them.
It’d been too long since The King had had a dance, and Six surprised him with their deft grace. Even as the song changed to a newer tempo, still the same type of calm and romantic tune, but new, nonetheless, Six smoothly followed The King's lead as he pulled them along, one hand clasped in theirs, and one settled comfortably on their waist.
“Hey.” They said, breaking the silence, “You know, you’re pretty good at this, King. Who would’ve thought, huh?”
“You ain’t so bad yourself, darlin’.” He gave Six a winning smile, speaking softly just over the din of the low music and their muted footsteps on the scuffed, wooden floor.
“Just you wait though, we’re about to get to the good bit.”
They raised their brows at him slightly, just as The King paused their movements, pulling Six’s body closer to his, before gently coaxing them backwards, off balance, and into a low dip.
The music swelled around the pair as The King held them in his arms. His breath, a coaxing mix of sweet and smoky, fanned lightly over Six’s face as he pressed ever closer, until his nose just barely brushed their own. Their half-lidded eyes glanced down to the sheen of his lips, even as they pulled away ever so slightly, their breath hitching in their throat as he firmly kept them from falling to the hard floor below.
“Baby, please.” He whispered, “Don’t forbid me.”
And they didn’t.
They couldn’t. Not with the way he was looking at them with such sincere adoration, the way he was holding them tightly in the firmness of his embrace, the way his low voice carried smoothly to their ears, the way his nose tickled theirs so enticingly; and so, in the next moment, they pushed their lips to meet his.
The King was just as intoxicating as they imagined he would be, without being as sure of himself as he sure as hell could be. He was equal parts respectful and provocative, stirring a heat in the courier’s gut just at the firm insistence of his kiss.
His hands stayed firmly in their place, one wound around their back, fingers clasping tightly at their waist, as the other gently caressed the nape of their neck, encouraging their contact to be drawn out as long as possible.
His pressure on their back soon increased, pulling them back up to a standing position without breaking their kiss, just as the song came to an end, the low voice of the pre-war king fading away into a low din as Six’s King separated from them, even drawing that motion out until they found themself unwittingly following the contact, begging him to stay pressed to them, to keep the alluring taste of him on their tongue and against their lips until the first chords of the next song trilled to life.
“You know,” Six said breathily as they finally managed the willpower to pull away, “It really seems like you’ve done this before, King.”
“I swear, it only seems that way.” His voice came out softer than it had before, less sure of himself, less rehearsed, less like the one that had again began droning through the room. Now, it was more like his own.
It was a strange sound to hear, both for the one in front of him, and for The King himself.
I haven't heard this me in years... The real me...
“What do you mean?” Six whispered, pulling The King from his thoughts, and he smiled softly at them, genuinely, as they stood still in the large room, as the melody swelled around them, and he finally felt at peace, for the first time in years.
“Darlin’," he began, his voice still honest as it could be, "What I mean is... I love only you.” He whispered the last bit, allowing it nearly to get lost amid the melody swirling around the pair.
And maybe it was just a line, another lyric, a part of his lifelong performance, of his suave façade, or maybe… Maybe this time he truly meant it.
Ulysses:
“Holy shit.” Six breathed as they looked down into the valley, if one could even call it that, but valley seemed too kind of a word, too natural sounding. There was nothing natural about this violent laceration of the earth.
“So, now you see how it has changed. Do you even remember what the Divide was like before?”
Six shook their head, both in response to Ulysses, and in their utter denial that they were the one responsible for all this devastation.
“It is not as dead as it may seem.” He continued, and they felt his dark eyes boring into them from his place at their side. “Marked men, we call them. Or, I do, when I’ve seen them. The victims of your negligence, of your grievous oversight. Skinless monstrosities, the storms of dust, the strong winds, the radiation… This was all once what I called home, where I thought hope would flourish.” Six turned to look at him, their mask and his own obstructing the very same expression; one of sadness, of regret. Ulysses met their gaze through the curtain of his twisted hair as the wind picked up and dragged at the twined ends.
“Only, that was before. Before you dutifully delivered your package, and fire rained on the whole of this place, splitting the earth apart and dashing every hope I had.”
Six flinched visibly at his words, fighting not to turn away at the sound of his accusatory tone. Ulysses felt a sense of pride at that, that he had gotten through to them, that he could make them regret their actions, even if they could not remember them, that didn’t make them any less to blame. His home was still gone, and so were the people within.
“You see now, why I sought you out.”
“Yes.” Six nodded to him gravely, looking more fatigued than he’d ever seen them.
Now the burden they carry has weight. It will make them stronger, in the end.
“Ulysses,” They said quietly, and he tilted his head to hear them over the wind and through the respiration mask he'd given them. “I’m sorry." They said, "I wish I could go back, that I never would have... Just, if I had known, I–”
“There is no going back, courier.” He told them, not harshly, but firmly.
Their wishes meant little now.
Ulysses looked down into the great wound in the earth, now alive with torrid dust storms, and he turned away from it.
“Come. When the dawn breaks, we will wake the sleeping giants, and the marked men will be no more. It is all that we can do for the Divide now.”
He didn’t have to look back to know that the courier was following him. Ulysses knew of an outpost nearby, a building that miraculously still stood, even so close to his old home. It was where they left the eyebots, and where they could rest before the morning came.
The courier needed their strength, of that he had no doubt, and after what they had learned on this day, what they'd seen and known was their doing, sleep wouldn’t come easy. It was good they were returning just before the sun dipped below the horizon.
The courier shut the door behind them as they both entered, leaving the shack dim. Ulysses brought a match to the old lamp within, and the contents of the room flickered into sight. A table, a chair, one bedroll, a few servings of preserved food… Ulysses had only ever been here alone. Never had he thought that, when such a thing changed, it would be courier Six accompanying him. His brows furrowed at the thought as he lit the kindling in the brick fireplace.
If my past self had his way, they would be dead. Has so much changed, in so short a time?
Ulysses prepared their dinner silently while Six laid out a few dishes, unpacked, and held their own tongue. Still though, even out of the corner of his eye, their body language said enough. Their hands shook as their eyes remained distant, they took slow steps throughout the room, their breathing leaving their mouth loudly, and much quicker than was normal.
Maybe it was wrong to say, but their distress relieved him. Perhaps he had not made the wrong decision, allowing them to help him, keeping them alive, even when the darker side of him had told him to pull the trigger.
Is it still right to send them down there, then? I wouldn’t need to be the one to kill them in the Divide, any number of dangers there could do it. Isn’t that what I had been thinking when I asked them to come with me in the first place?
“That smells good.”
Ulysses blinked as their voice brought him back to the present.
“Is it almost done, do you think? I’m starving.”
“It is done.” He pulled the food away from the fire, placing the pan onto the table for Six to distribute the servings evenly.
“Alright, now, do you want anything to drink, or–?”
The door shutting behind him cut off Six’s voice, as Ulysses stepped out into the night, plate and in hand as he searched for a place to eat in solitude.
He took a seat on a protruding outcropping of rock, and began to undo the fastenings of his mask, peering up at the sky as he did so. The stars were just beginning to shine through the cloud of dust and the pale residual sunlight, and now the wind had calmed. The fine evening would’ve lied to anyone unacquainted with the Divide, it would seem inviting… the calmness, the quiet. He knew of the fury that raged below, the chaos, the violence, so near, yet just out of sight and earshot.
Still, Ulysses found himself daring to pretend he was ignorant.
The former Twisted Hair tribesman wasn’t used to company when he ate. Or when he did… anything, really. Though he knew it wasn’t true, he felt as though Six was just a bit too overbearing, and now, with the sympathy he felt creeping into him, a feeling oddly unfamiliar, Ulysses couldn’t risk acclimating to their presence any more than was necessary for their success in the morning.
“Can’t get rid of me that easy, soldier.” Ulysses nearly dropped his mask as he pulled it fully from his face, the courier's voice hitting him like a shock of cold water as they approached him from behind.
“It’s such a nice night, I can’t let you keep it all for yourself, can– Woah.” Ulysses raised his gaze to meet theirs questioningly as they gawked at his uncovered features.
“T-the mask. It…”
“It can be removed.” He turned back to his food then, picking at it as he waited for Six’s next move. His jaw clenched as they settled beside him.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
The pair sat in silence, the one redeemable aspect of their close proximity, but still, neither of them ate. After a few moments, Six set their plate aside, and clasped their hands together in front of them.
“Hey.” They turned their head towards him, and Ulysses mirrored their movement, setting his own dish aside as he did so. “I really am… God, I don’t even have the words for how sorry I am.”
He nodded. It wasn’t words he needed, it was actions. They couldn’t change the past, but if they helped him now… They could erase their mistake from the earth as well as one can.
“I don’t know anything about who I was before," They continued, "Except that I was a courier, and, well, that I did this… If it was on purpose… It couldn’t have been, could it?” Their voice left their throat raw, tinged with a guilt that wasn’t even properly their own. Ulysses felt the sympathy rising in his chest once more.
“If this was something I could’ve done, even knowing what the outcome would be... Then maybe I should be dead.”
“No, Six.” He said, almost softly, startling even himself briefly at the sound of their name leaving his lips. “Your path is not yet ended. Your memories… the lack of them, this also is not simply chance. Who you were before is not who you are now, not what defines you. You are free now. Free to make the choice to be more than you once were. Helping me is only the first step. You were unburied for a reason.”
A small smile tugged at the sides of Six's mouth as Ulysses' words met their ears.
“I hope you know…" They said slowly, "I’m not just helping you because I feel like I have to, because I feel like it will absolve me of my mistakes, or anything like that. I want to help you, Ulysses.”
A warmth spread from his forearm, where Six’s hand rested upon it. His own fingers flexed at the feeling, but he fought the urge to pull away.
Why?
“Why?” His voice echoed.
“Because you had every right and reason to end my life, and you didn’t.” They shrugged as they spoke, as though it was nothing short of obvious. “Because you’re good at giving advice, and you cared for this place, and you helped protect me along the way, and because… Because you made me dinner," A smile touched their lips as Ulysses' eyebrows crinkled together in his confusion. Still, they pressed on with their strange sort of praise, "And said I could have the bedroll tonight, and you offered to keep first watch so I could rest."
Ulysses' fingers twitched again as they continued, and his eyes met theirs, both pairs shining dimly in the soft glow of the moonlight.
"I’m helping you because you’re a good person, Ulysses. You gave me another chance, even when I probably didn’t deserve it.”
Ulysses’ dark eyes narrowed further at their reasoning, his gaze shifted to the ground in thought, and he found himself at a loss for words.
I hadn’t realized I’d done all of that… But still, they are wrong. They know of my past, I’ve told them. Have they forgotten about Caesar and the Bull, about my restless hunt for them, about the many atrocities I’ve committed?
“And there’s one other reason…” They trailed off, their voice fading so quickly to silence that Ulysses wondered if they’d said anything else at all. He turned to face them once more, immediately straightening in surprise at their sudden proximity to him.
“I don’t think I can quite say it just yet, but…” They breathed quietly, the warmth of them washing over his exposed face as they leaned ever closer into him.
Ulysses sucked in a breath as their soft lips met his, and the heavy feeling in his chest expanded, turning his fingers numb and punching him hard in the gut. The feeling was so unfamiliar, and Ulysses found himself pushing them away before he could even close his eyes, before he could be consumed by the strangeness of it all, before he found himself unable to contain whatever fire began burning in his mind and body.
His mouth opened, threatening words of interrogation, but nothing came of it. His throat was too dry, mind too muddled, and he was still stuck in the crossroads of his own confounding wants, of his conscience, of his surprise and of his overwhelming need for more of what they’d just inflicted upon him.
“I-I’m sorry,” They stuttered out, “I shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve told you beforehand–”
Ulysses held up a hand. That much, he could do. He only needed a moment. Though, none of the jumbled thoughts rattling through his head offered to quite fit together, none, apart from one.
Do not deny yourself this.
They want it as well.
As well? Until this very moment, Ulysses was unaware that this was something he’d ever desired, but now, the urge was like the initial hunger that had driven him. That need for revenge, for justice, for answers that had brought him all the way to the Mojave, to Six in the first place, only now… This was a different sort of drive.
It was heated still, like the desert sun that had assaulted him on his journey to find them, but warm in a way that he found comfort, not blinding rage.
His mind settled to one track with the same spirit of determination he’d felt then, but now it wasn’t menacing and hard, it was but a whisper, like the wind stirring grains of sand, the small beads each representing one of his actions the courier had mentioned, the ones he hadn’t even noticed.
Ulysses had spared Six, he protected them, he offered them rest, respite, even at his own expense. This determination didn’t drive him, it swept him along and into now.
To this moment.
Now.
Six’s gaze was apologetic as they awaited his response, as his hand slowly sunk from its raised position. It didn’t land where he expected it to; instead, it fell to the collar of the courier’s jacket, grasping it tightly as the feeling returned to his body, and demanded action. Ulysses surged forward, and Six met him halfway.
Their passionate clash made a mockery of their first contact, the fire spreading instantly through Ulysses’ veins, as his eyes closed tightly, only enhancing the sensation of them against him.
His lips, so often masked and covered, were overly sensitive to his partner's explosive touch, to the pressure they exerted, not unlike the warhead they’d released to propel their fate to tangle with his. This action of theirs too, would change the course of his path, change the meaning of that single unattainable word that had stuck with him since he first gazed upon the now-ruined valley. It was the same one that had evaded him since his separation from the Twisted Hairs, since his isolation from the Legion, that had been so very close to defining this place that gave him so much hope for the future, before both The Divide, and that very same word were torn away from his life so cruelly.
The word was home.
Perhaps it had been destroyed for a reason, perhaps it had been wiped from existence, from his vocabulary, so wholly, so that another form could take its place, another stage in his life could present it to him once more, so it could be made attainable once again. Perhaps the territory of the Twisted Hairs, the Legion's Fortification Hill, and The Divide could no longer be deemed his home, if only so that Six could take their place as the very definition of the word.
Vulpes Inculta:
“I must say, courier, I don’t often find myself perplexed by profligates such as you, but… You have surprised me. Well done.” Vulpes' smooth voice sounded through the tent as he caught his breath and leaned back in the mussed swirl of bedsheets, a light sheen of sweat making his bare torso glisten in the low light.
“Yeah?" Six said in return, a grin in their voice and a flush at their face as they settled down beside him, "I suppose I could say the same. I thought you’d be the last person to vouch for me back there. So… thank you.”
Vulpes groaned.
“This better not have been an exchange on your part." He said, waving a hand lazily towards the courier's bare form where it was spread over his bedroll. "If you owed me anything for my assistance in Caesar’s tent, I would have made it clear to you.”
“No. No, that’s not…" Six took in a deep breath, pulling a sheet over them coyly as they tried to prepare themself for the Frumentarius's impending judgement.
Even with his stoic and unbothered exterior, with his dismissive words, and refusal to admit that their recent connection was anything but physical, Six felt that he needed to hear the truth of why they'd come all this way, why they'd sought him out again, even knowing that they were inevitably endangering themself by entering into Legion territory alone and unannounced.
"The truth is, Vulpes, ever since Nipton, I just... I haven’t been able to get you off my mind. No matter how much I've tried.”
He lifted his head at that, stark eyes growing wider for a brief moment as he glanced towards the courier.
“Truly?” Vulpes asked, his voice quiet.
They nodded, a slight blush rising to their already reddened cheeks.
Vulpes gritted his teeth, his mind jolting with barely contained astonishment.
He knew that he tended to leave an impression on people, as inconspicuous as he was meant to remain, he still found that other people, profligates in particular, were often intrigued by him. Usually, he wouldn't be surprised by it, as he was now, but for some strange reason, the fact that it was Six, a person whom he surprisingly found most intriguing himself, that couldn't keep themself from thinking about him, that surprised him. And Vulpes very nearly said so, his lips parting, before closing abruptly at the realization of what he was about to reveal.
That they had been on his mind as well.
But they cannot know that. He scolded himself, shaking his head slightly.
Quae stultitia. I very nearly let my guard down.
“I cannot say I’m surprised.” Vulpes said instead.
The courier shifted onto their side, cocking an eyebrow as they fixed him with a comedically thoughtful look.
“What, because you just tend to have that effect on people?”
“It’s true.” The Frumentarius threw them a humorless half-smile, bringing one arm up to rest behind his head smugly.
“You’re so damn full of yourself, you know that?” Six shook their head at him, but a smile stayed stubbornly at their lips, despite their show of annoyance with him.
“Yes. I have good reason to be.”
“Yeah? Well, consider yourself lucky that I’m into that.”
He scoffed at that, his steely blue eyes rolling as he shifted on the bedroll beside them, unfolding an arm to rest over Six's pillow.
Is that… an invitation? Six wondered anxiously.
Why would he have done it if it wasn't? What would he say if I overstepped? What would he do?
God, they were worried about making a fool of themself in front of the Legion Frumentarius. His voice could be so sharp, his eyes so piercing, his expression judgmental, his wit, unrelenting. They were as afraid of the senior Legionnaire as they were aroused by him.
Damn him.
Vulpes’s eyes flitted to them briefly, only to notice the conflict in their expression. A smirk formed at his lips, and he shifted slightly as he leaned back and closed his eyes.
The sun had set over an hour ago, but the camp was clearly still alive outside the linen of his tent.
Should I join them? Vulpes thought briefly.
It had been over a month since he’d been back at the Fort, only to arrive on the same day as the curious and inquiring courier, their slightly tarnished mark of Caesar in their trembling hands as they were led to the tent at the epicenter of the camp.
The great Caesar himself had sought after them a few weeks prior, only to find disappointment once they were finally in his presence, but Vulpes had assured his leader that they had something to offer the Legion.
He wasn’t sure why he’d done it. Everyone in the tent had been surprised, but likely none more so than himself.
Still though, the outcome had been quite favorable.
But Vulpes wasn’t entirely sure why he’d done that either… Like he’d realized before, the courier really did perplex him.
Perhaps it had just been long enough since his last proper fuck, and he'd wanted to remedy that. Perhaps he wanted something new, unexcited as he was at the idea of spending his long-awaited night at the Fort with one of the worn-in, overused slaves that were present here. Perhaps it was they way Six had looked as they kneeled in the sand before his leader, that pleading expression, their quivering voice, the way they'd begged humbly for a pardon, for patience, for Vulpes, and his fleeting mercy when he'd said he'd speak for them. Or perhaps, confounded as it still seems to him, perhaps they had intrigued him just enough the day he met them in Nipton to warrant his attentions now.
He would never admit it, but he thought of that day often since.
The way Six had looked on in awe at his display, at the crucifixions, at the burning town, at the way his men followed every order, without hesitation, without him even needing to ask.
Perhaps there really was something more to them… He forced himself to doubt it though.
I have to. Who are they to me? Who is this courier, compared to the Legion? To the leader of the Frumentarii? To everything I stand for?
Vulpes felt his muscles tense jarringly as the courier shifted closer beside him, pulling him from his thoughts.
One of their hands came up to press over his bare chest as they curled into his side, their head resting at the junction of his arm and shoulder. He was reluctant to admit it to himself, but their warmth felt good against his body as the night air cooled around them. His jaw clenched, even as his muscles remained taut beneath their unnervingly comforting form, but still, Vulpes found he couldn’t pull away.
“What is it you think you are doing?”
Six tensed, their fingers flexing against the center of his chest slightly as they cleared their throat.
“I was thinking of going to sleep.”
“Like this?” He asked pointedly as he tilted his head to look into their eyes, but the courier refused to meet his gaze, opting to stare at the other side of the tent, where a light breeze caressed the fabric, and the dim lantern light flickered over it from the inside.
“It’s what I had in mind, yes. Is there a problem?”
“Yes.” Vulpes practically hissed, shifting upwards into a seated position, forcing Six to prop themself up with an arm to keep from toppling.
“I want it to be understood, courier, that I am not your partner. Not a romantic interest, or one with whom you can expect dedication or affection. I am unaccustomed to sleeping beside anyone. Least of all a lowly profligate. Now, I made it clear in Caesar’s tent that you did have the privilege to sleep within my tent for your time here, in order to ensure your safety, since you bear his mark, but this,” One hand gestured to Six in a half-hearted way, “This was not the intent, let me make that plain to you.”
With that, Vulpes made a move to rise from the floor, but to his surprise, Six’s hand forced him back down, moving up his chest to press firmly on his collarbone and keep him pinned to the bedroll below.
“What are you–”
Six leaned forward, a fire in their eyes and determination in their expression as they forcefully pressed their lips to his. There was a persistence, a certainty in their movement that halted Vulpes’s defense, that kept him leaning back on his elbows without trying to shove them away.
His eyes remained open, even as theirs scrunched with the effort to draw reciprocation from him. Truthfully though, Vulpes couldn’t recall the last time he’d kissed anyone, and he wasn’t sure if anyone had made the move to kiss him without being ordered to do so. Again, not for the first time since he’d met the courier, and not even for the first time that night, he found himself utterly perplexed.
The motion felt uncomfortable, it was too… Too personal, too intimate, it meant something more to them, just as their head against his shoulder had, as their hand over his heart had caused it to beat at an uncomfortable pace, as their warm breath fanning over his cooled skin had elicited a shock of chills up his spine, and a delineation of gooseprickles to spread over the expanse of his paleness.
Attachment and emotion were two human tendencies that Vulpes tried to alienate himself from, for this reason precisely. That feeling permeating his chest, that warmth, the thirst that scorched his throat and left his mouth dry, that need that made his hands tremble with the need to fill them with the flesh of the person atop him, that want for them to be pressed even closer against him, as they just had been, to have them for all to himself, to keep them at his side for the remainder of their days… It was dangerous, it was foolish, it was a weakness that the leader of the Frumentarii couldn’t afford.
“Enough.” He said against them, before his eyes could fall closed, before the heat in his chest could expand, before he could lose himself in the contact, before he could lose himself in them any more than he already had.
What are they playing at, anyway?
Vulpes shook his head forcefully as Six pulled away, allowing their hand to slacken from its place over his heart as they settled down beside him again. He released a small sigh as they removed themself from atop him, relieved that they could no longer feel the distinct pounding of his heart, the too-rapid rise and fall of his chest, that it was now more difficult for them to notice the flush of his light cheeks, and the conflict in his expression.
“You tell yourself whatever you want, Vulpes." They said as they stared up at the roof of the tent, "But I think I know the truth.” A smug smile tugged at their reddened lips as they slid over to settle their head back onto his chest.
Vulpes's elbows slowly crumpled beneath him as he rested his head back on the bedroll below, his mind racing in every wrong direction as he struggled to make sense of the buzzing in his bloodstream, the fluttering in his stomach, and the frustration that caused his jaw to clench almost painfully.
He sighed deeply once again, perhaps in an effort to expel some of these feelings of his from deep within him, as he listened to the muffled sounds of activity beyond the walls of his tent. His eyelids drooped low, causing the world to darken around him, and almost unwittingly, Vulpes found one arm traveling from its place beside him, moving upwards to gently curl around the body tucked close to his side, groggily pulling them closer as he slowly allowed himself to drift off to sleep.
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peachiseas · 3 months
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Art summary 2023 Ramble
Yeah yeah yeah, like I stated in my last post, I really kinda wanted to talk in depth about just the insane whirlwind that was this year for me artistically anyways. I hope y'all enjoy ans sincerely thank you for supporting me
So to start off, this year was the most successful year for me in art. I had a lot of lows this year but art? Art was not in any of those categories though it was really shaping up to be my worst year yet.
In 2021, I had my house fire that really more or less threw my senior year of school for a fucking loop. Then in 2022, I lost all of my stuff due to negligence by the demolition company and that severely tanked my entire will to really create. Decades worth of art since I was 2 that I carefully preserved for myself when I was older to browse, was just gone.
So after I graduated, I applied for a fuckton of zines because I thought that since I was approaching a huge depressive creative block, if I didn't stop drawing then I wouldn't experience it.
Well. I was wrong.
Not only was I depressed, but I was swamped with work and the work just didn't make me feel better at all. By the time 2023 came around, I dropped out of so many zines and the ones I did finish were late. It was just an absolute nightmare. I think that's why I didn't have so many general pieces in 2023, I was burnt the fuck out from overworking.
I think a positive was though that afterwards, I still wanted to draw little things which turned out to be my best idea yet. Mainly because for me, little stuff like merch is quick and easier for me to pump out. And because of that I ended up selling so much this year because I became more active in making merch, I'm really shocked. Not only that, I did do quite a few cons too and sold pretty well for my first official year. Which once again, took me off guard cause I'm hypercritical of my own work.
So! My goal for next year is to sell and make more merch obviously, but I do want to make actual illustrations again. I really miss it. And comics too!! Now that I'm officially moved in, I can do things I actually wanna do. I really cant predict what next year looks like for me but hopefully, it's good. And I do want to make a sincere thank you to everyone who supported me before and now! I wouldn't have gotten this far without yall! I hope 2024 is kind to you!
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analogwriting · 2 months
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ok I feel a bit weird sending in another message today, but the newest chapters put me in such a killer mood I wanted to read more for him
and I must say??? We need more killer writers pls 😔 I love oneshots, hcs, all that stuff, but where are my longfics??? not to complain (i am), but WHERE IS THE SLOWBURN??
ambrose you are a godsend fr fr… I get so picky with this kind of thing because sometimes i’ll say “Oh I don’t like slowburn THAT much” but the moment I find a good slowburn, I will eat that shit up. I will be HOOKED on my phone for hours at a time and let my work pile up because yeah, these fics have me forgetting I need to sleep
Wish I could give you all the kisses in the world because you really just spoil us with ur amazing writing… ive never felt so blessed by an author before cuz the way the slowburn is so agonizing it has me ripping apart my lungs, my heart aching, myself going insane… I live for it.
Respect to you and other slowburn authors, cuz it takes a lot of work to write one… I always find other law or killer fics and the relationships always feel so rushed 😔 please, law and killer are such slowburn potential characters and i hate to see them act so impulsive in other works. I love how u write tho. So so so much. everything is so slow and i love it
(one day I’ll get to reading your law fanfic…hopefully this weekend)
anyways, me 🤝 number 1 kese hater, next chapters are rlly gonna get me 😭
-long rants anon
first of all, don't feel weird. I love getting asks, replies, or anything. no matter how many times. I eat that shit UP ✋✋
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second, FKSKFKEKOD???? got me ugly crying on main frfr with this ask. i literally called my bsf crying 💀 you're so fucking sweet??? im just a funky little guy that had a few dreams and decided to write em out bc fuck it and to know that people are enjoying it that much is so insane to me 😭😭😭
im a sucker for slowburn and would eat that shit for breakfast lunch and dinner if I could. i just never really found it of my favorite characters so i was like "dammit if i want this shit gonna have to make it myself ig" i always felt like the law stories kinda happened to fast as well and i wanted some PINING. and then when I started my killer fic, there was hardly any killer content in general. there seems to be a surge in content for him tho which I am forever excited about my mans deserves it.
like the last time I wrote fanfiction it was a decade ago when I was first starting off high school. (not counting rps n shit with friends that continued forever)
never in a million years did i know people would enjoy it as much as they are and that shit makes me so unbelievably happy. like y'all have no idea. when i say i be giggling and kicking my feet n shit I MEAN IT
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like this is me every time I get y'all's comments n shit. like I be giggling and just glowing all day. (it's partially why I just kept the trend of posting updates at night so I can wake up to them nice messages 💅 start the day off RIGHT)
like my head is reeling from this ask and im on cloud nine frfr. you are so fucking sweet and i just want to tuck you in my pocket and keep you safe. like FJSKDKDKS I'm going to be thinking about this all day and probably the rest of the week if not forever 😭😭😭
but seriously, from the bottom of my soul, thank you for this. shit makes my year frfr. ❤️❤️❤️❤️
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Director's commentary on Underneath The Tree? I saw you reblogged the post so here we go:) UTT is my favourite work of yours :3
thank you so much, anon!! i'm so glad you enjoyed UtT, i had an amazing time writing it so im delighted you enjoyed it <3
Underneath the Tree very much started as the baby of myself and @exit-pursued-by-a-lesbian . we started it in november last year, just based on the fact that they were mad that every single thing i wrote (and tbh, most of the time still is) was angst, so we thought, hey, it's nearly christmas, we'll figure out something related to that.
as i have a long-standing rep for torturing b'elanna in my fic, she of course had to get some joy, and it escalated from there. i wouldn't describe either of us as die-hard b7 shippers, but we both definitely ship b'elanna with seven more than anybody else, and we both love kes, too, and think so much more could have been done with her, especially with a potential friendship with seven, so she got a big role as well. kes comes with the doctor, so he got something to do, too, and as we were introduced to vines by a voyager vines video (yes, we do unfortunately spend our free time watching things like that. it's a great use of our time!) so it seemed natural for their arc to involve a vine. neelix sort of just... showed up. i don't remember adding him to the story. he was just there. janeway was similar, except more wanted, and i firmly believe that all the best b7 has kathryn manically encouraging them all the way. tom and harry are another ship that we both ship together more than we ship either of them with anybody else, so they got to make a few appearances, and the voyager betting pool spiralled from that. you need a few more stakes than the general emotional torture of b7 being hopelessly in love with each other, so the betting pool, vine, and christmas party worked out nicely, as well as bringing me extreme amounts of joy.
our original plan was to both write a version, and then pick the best chunks from both and combine them, so we spent a lot of time in mid december wandering around our local town centre looking at clothes and christmas decorations brainstorming. hence, tuvok.
all the shops near us tend to go slightly insane in terms of the types of clothes they stock near christmas (pretty much every item of clothing described in the story is something we've actual found within twenty minutes of our houses, aside from tuvok's heels) so as we were brainstorming the logical idea seemed to be to point at clothes and go, "x character wears that (hopefully to the voyager christmas party)". it's funny to do regardless of what character you pick, but tuvok makes it infinitely funnier. like, seriously, i recommend it: wander around your local shops going "tuvok would wear that." it fuckign SLAPS.
anyway.
that lead us to picking out every part of the voyager christmas party scene. who doesn't love a good christmas party with your alien coworker who you're homoerotically in love with? once we'd figured out the stakes, we just had to weave the story together and, y'know, actually write it. this is the point where it became much more of a me effort than an us effort, bc deadlines are HARD, y'all.
i think i wrote the first chunk up until kes realises seven's in love with b'elanna by the third of december or so, and then i wrote the entire rest on the twenty-first, when my adhd brain went oh SHIT i have to write this we no longer have infinite time. my favourite scene to write was definitely the mess hall scene where janeway drinks a bathtub of coffee, b'elanna punches kes, and kes drinks an inordinate amount of hot chocolate. it was such a fun little moment of realisation, tbh, and it gave my beloved kathryn her second in the spotlight, too.
after that, all that was left was for @exit-pursued-by-a-lesbian to beta it, and then i posted it! (yes, all the christmas songs are real. yes, they're all on a star trek-named christmas-themed playlist on my spotify. no, i will not provide a link bc none of you need to be able to find the other playlists on my spotify, which include a thirty-six hour worm-themed playlist featuring the whole hamilton soundtrack)
once again, thank you so much, anon! i'm glad you enjoyed the story, and i'm sorry that this post is almost as long as the story
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veritable-trash · 8 months
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hey guysssss
alright i don't know if anyone actually ever reads my rambles but i've started a little new project that DEEPLY excites me and i want to share it here because i feel safe sharing it here <3
this sorta feels like a betrayal in some ways but i swear it's not! so i've started a substack
*gasp*
i know i know crazy yes yes but hear me out. i've been a huge music head my whole life and have always loved discussing and dissecting music in my own way and so i finally was like you know what let me write about it and so i have! and i decided to make a substack to kinda organize all that. now i'm not expecting anyone to read it or even interact with it but it's kinda been so fucking fun for me to write about music. like it's been a minute since i've enjoyed writing this much
which sucks because i love fanfic i love writing stories but i've just been a little dejected about it recently and completely uninspired and now i have something i'm inspired about and i LOVE IT
i might even cross post stuff on here if i feel a post is really fun or really enjoyable and i want to share other places but for now i will just be a dropping a link to my substack and if any of my little friends want to read it i would literally keel over and die from joy.
alright i'm done for now the link will be below and hopefully some of y'all come along this new mini journey
ok hugs kisses the usual gambit of things and i will of course still be here freaking out about all my fictional babes but now i just got another place to be bat shit insane :) <3
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tripleyeeet · 5 months
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*makes sure its tuesday* *puts on a suit and takes the microphone*
HELLO AND WELCOME BACK EVERYONE TO TUESDAY INTERVIEW!
I'm your host Annie and today we are here once again with the amazing and talented author Summer!!! Let them hear your love, guys!!!
So, Summer. There aren't many news to report for these week. I've heard from trustworthy sources that you've taken a small break from writing, which I'm very glad to see and that I hope you are enjoying to the fullest. But I do have a couple questions in my notes, if you don't mind answering them.
First of all. We all know why most of the people are here for. "A Lover's Folly". One of - if not the most successful fics of yours. If I'm not wrong, next chapter will be a little sweet thing that will make our heart overwhelm with joy but I was wondering: what awaits Tav and Astarion after the next "slice-of-life" chapter, if you will? Pain? More joy? Illithids?
Of course, I can't talk about your fics without mentioning "Curse You"! And talking about the Zaystarion fic, how would you describe the next chapter that will come out in one sentence? And how would you describe in three words the beloved "knife fight" ship that has all of us in a chokehold (👀) ?
Now... since I've already asked you about your wips already last week, I've thought about a little game: it's easy, just a simple top 10 of BG3 characters, including both characters from the main party and NPCs. However, the twist is, you decide the theme of the top 10. It could be best characters based on their backstory, on looks, on how badly you want to be with them (biblically or not speaking) and so on.
AND THAT IS ALL FOR TODAY!!! GOODBYE EVERYONE AND HAVE A GREAT DAY!!!
tuesday interview on a wednesday!!! (wow who would've thought!!)
apologies for missing a couple of weeks, but you're right, i am taking a bit of break! at least for me. i'm still posting here and there but definitely not as frequently. will still be posting some curse you content and the lover's folly chapter this weekend! the latter might not necessarily come out on saturday as planned because the next few days are expected to be a bit insane but i'll try my best!
as a treat though (and to answer your question) the chapter is definitely going to have a fluffy vibe. a lot of comforting themes to make up for all the angst i've been giving everyone. mostly it's just a chapter where tav and astarion get some much needed relaxation before all the chaos starts up again.
for curse you, uh, i've decided to switch things up. initially i wanted to write a full fic that was very structured and chronological but i've since decided to just kind of write little snippets here and there to give myself more freedom to create what i want! with that being said though, i have a couple one shots planned, specifically ones about the first time astarion meets zayis and also the scene where she first allows him to drink from her! so hopefully y'all enjoy those. :')
for the best question though i'm going to do a top 10 npcs based on who i'd bring to a wedding because for some odd reason that was the first thing that popped into my head. however, i’m not going to tell you why because i am lazy!!!
rolan
wyll
karlach
alfira
dammon
gale
astarion
shadowheart
gortash
raphael
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the-widow-sisters · 1 year
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Hello!!
Could it be one where we see Kate demonstrate some talent that she has hidden from everyone and is accidentally discovered by Darcy?
A/N: Thank you so, so much for this request!!! 😊💕
Gosh, I'm sorry I've been gone from this fandom for so long! I've been seriously lacking in inspiration for anything lately 😅 No matter how hard I try, nothing in terms of writing has been working for me too well regardless of the fandom😬
Idk, hopefully I haven't lost my touch! This felt a little weird when I was writing it, but it was kind of lighthearted and fun, so hopefully it worked well! And maybe it could classify as Halloween-ish? Like they are dressing up, so... 🤷��️
Btw, if I do much else anytime soon in the way of writing for this fandom right now, it’ll probably be slow, so y’all just be warned, lol 😅
I hope y'all enjoy! 😊💕
Word Count: 2866
  When Darcy had tracked Kate via FRIDAY’s emergency tracking system for the Avengers that triangulated their cell phone coordinates, Darcy herself breaking a ton of rules in utilizing it without true emergency, she had truly not expected to follow Kate and find her doing this of all things.
 Throughout last week, Kate had not really had much time to hang out, and Darcy had been busy as well. The both of them had been really wanting to spend time with one another, but their schedules had just not lined up at all.
  However, this was all fine until Darcy managed to get some time this week for several days. The first time was in the early afternoon, and she had caught Kate heading out of the compound. She had been confused, but when Kate assured her that she was very busy and had to go to something important, she had been somewhat willing to let it go.
  But when Kate had not been able to really tell her what those important things that she had to do actually were, Darcy had quickly grown suspicious. The next day, Kate had left at about the same time, and her excuse had been just as flimsy and unstructured. After the third day of Kate’s mysterious disappearances at the same time of day, Darcy was ready to get to the bottom of things.
  Which was how she ended up here in Central Park, currently looking upon the most horrifically terrifying battle that she had ever witnessed.
  She had managed to get through the fray as best as she could, stepping over bodies. And when she had finally managed to find Kate and get near enough to her, she called out loudly.
  “Kate?!”
  Kate froze in the midst of stabbing someone, the person falling over with a loud cry, and she gaped at Darcy for a solid minute.
  “Darcy?!” Kate yelped, and Darcy looked around the battlefield slowly, taking it all in. Kate sputtered for just a moment before finally speaking up.
  “This isn’t what it looks like!” Kate cried out desperately, her eyes ridiculously wide. Darcy just furrowed her brow, narrowing her eyes a little as she looked at the insanity taking place around them.
  “You broke character!!!” the guy she had freshly killed accused loudly, and Kate jumped out of her skin, looking down at the person and shouting a quick apology.
  “Sorry!!!” Kate yelped, and Darcy looked at her uncertainly as Kate cleared her throat and straightened a bit in an attempt to seemingly recollect her sense of character. She then hardened her gaze and pointed the absurd foam sword at Darcy as if it were actually truly threatening. It was well-made, but it was still obvious foam given the slightly blunt end on it.
  “This, peasant, is not what it appears!” Kate declared boldly, and Darcy just raised an eyebrow.
  “So you’re not out here LARPing like all the rest of these fruitcakes?” Darcy asked, and Kate paused for a moment before laughing somewhat nervously.
  “Well… It might kind of be what it looks like,” Kate admitted. However, just as she uttered her statement, one of the crazies came up behind her with a foam axe. Before Darcy could even make a move to point to them or say anything, Kate turned quickly and stabbed them in the side under their arm. They cried out dramatically and fell to the ground.
  Darcy huffed in surprise. Kate was honestly amazingly good at this, and Darcy had not even been there long enough to see her fully in action.
  “Wow…”
  “Yeah… Probably an inefficient use of my combat skills, but it’s fun, so why not?” Kate somewhat breathlessly told her, and Darcy nodded slowly, not sure how to react but finding it quite entertaining that Kate was this into it. She herself did not want any part of it and was honestly creeped out by the other people on some level, but she was happy that Kate was happy.
  “Hey! No interrupting unless you’re going to join!” one of the people nearby declared, hurrying over to Darcy where she was standing on the sidelines. Kate looked at the woman in surprise, and Darcy raised her hands.
  “No worries! I was just—”
  “About to sign in!” Kate quickly interrupted her, and Darcy looked at her as if she had lost her mind. If Kate seriously thought that Darcy was about to participate in all of this insanity, then she definitely had lost her mind.
  The woman immediately raised her eyebrows, and she nodded happily.
  “Alright, then. Come on this way,” she beckoned, starting to walk off to the nearby tent.
  Darcy narrowed her eyes before looking at Kate quickly.
  “Look, hear me out—"
  “Hear you out?! Have you lost your mind?! I’m a scientist, not a LARPer!!!” Darcy cried, whisper-yelling, and Kate shook her head as she tried to explain herself.
  “No, no, no, look, it could be fun! We could spend time together like we’ve been trying to do this whole week!” Kate told her, and Darcy furrowed her brow.
  “Look, I’ve been trying to get time to have coffee and talk or watch a movie together, but I did not sign up to come to a place where a bunch of middle-aged people that are way too old to be doing this and should be getting jobs are out here slapping each other with glorified pool noodles!” Darcy cried, somewhat running out of breath in the midst of her rant.
  Kate shook her head, stepping just a little closer as she lowered her voice just enough so that she was not necessarily speaking at a volume where very many people could overhear.
  “These people have jobs. Most are policemen and firemen, and we’ve even got veterans here coming in on the fun. It’s just a fun hobby,” Kate explained, and as they stood there for a moment, Kate suddenly squinted a little, studying Darcy carefully, and Darcy uncomfortably looked back at her, worrying about what Kate was thinking.
  “You’re scared,” Kate suddenly declared, and Darcy’s eyes widened, Kate seeing right through her.
  It was unfortunately true. Even though this was a ridiculous fest of insanity, something in her just was terrified of the thought of insane cosplayers running at her. While their weapons could not hurt her, she definitely did not want to be crushed by them or something.
  Plus, who really knew how far they would take their cosplaying? She had even seen something on her way there that looked a lot like an authentic guillotine replica that they must have put together. The last thing she wanted to do was become one of the roleplay execute-ees.
  But nevertheless, she knew how ridiculous it would likely sound out loud, especially to Kate who was so obviously immersed in this insanity, and she did not want to look stupid or weird.
  “No! No, I’m not! I’ve faced portals and an insane dark elf man and never flinched,” Darcy proudly proclaimed, and Kae laughed incredulously with a wide grin.
  “You’re totally scared,” Kate pointed out, far too pleased with herself for her discovery.
  “I’m totally not scared! I’m—”
  Kate suddenly moved forward, pushing her shoulder as she shoved her out of the way and sliced with her foam sword across a man’s throat. He fell to the ground with a loud cry of dramatized anguish, and he just laid there.
  Darcy’s eyes were wide, and Kate looked back at her with a grin.
  “I’ve got to get back to the battle. But seriously… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth about this, and that I hid it from you. It’s a little embarrassing to tell people because they don’t usually understand,” Kate admitted, and Darcy felt her chest squeeze a little for the girl.
  “And you don’t have to sign up but… at least consider it maybe? It really is fun,” Kate told her with a lopsided grin and that sweet glint in her eyes that she had when she wanted something but was not going to ask for it in favor of making the other person comfortable.
  As Kate turned to go and reengage in battle, Darcy groaned deeply, rolling her eyes. She looked down at the guy lying falsely dead at her feet and she sighed tiredly.
  “Wanna trade spots?” she questioned. At his lack of a response, she just huffed and shook her head, walking over to the tent that the woman disappeared in.
  The things that she would do for her friends…
    ………………………………………………………………………………………………………
      Darcy narrowed her eyes as she headed out into the field. She was now clad in ridiculous armor and she had one of those ridiculous swords that looked like a far less cool version of Kate’s. It was more like something that one would find in the clearance section of Walmart.
  She groaned deeply, and she tried her best to spot Kate. She was not about to get killed. If she was going to play this game, she was going to make sure that she won. And Kate was good enough at it to win.
  “Good day, my fair friend! Art thou ready for battle?!” a familiar voice questioned suddenly from behind Darcy. Darcy turned toward it quickly, sucking in a swift breath as the nervousness crept upon her and the thought of the guillotine came to the forefront of her mind all over again.
   To her utter relief, it was just Kate, and Darcy could not help but let out a deep breath of relief. She finally nodded tiredly, pinching the bridge of her nose and adjusting her glasses before responding to her question.
  “Sure,” Darcy agreed with a shrug, and Kate stepped closer, almost bouncing in place in the midst of her excitement.
  “Thank you for doing this. I really am excited to do this with you,” Kate confessed, and Darcy’s gaze softened as she shrugged with a small smile.
  “It’s okay. I know you’d do the same,” Darcy told her, and Kate smiled as she straightened, pointing her sword toward the air as she stood next to Darcy.
  “Come! Let us gloriously bathe in the blood of our enemies!!” Kate called loudly, and Darcy could not help but wince a little at both Kate’s volume and the insanity of the statement.
  These people really did take this stuff seriously.
  Kate took off, running in the midst of the battle as she effortlessly took on two or three sword-wielding looneys. Darcy hurried after her, pausing a small distance behind her as she looked around uncertainly. She did not have a clue what to do.
  Kate quickly eliminated them, using some fancy sword moves as she efficiently took care of the group. She then charged forward, knocking off a few more of them with her unexpectedly swift moves.
  She then found someone that was far better with weapons that Kate’s previous foes and she went at it, fighting the person valiantly. Darcy could not help but raise her eyebrows, utterly shocked at how fast that Kate was with her sword. She was seriously talented, and training with Clint must have taught her quite a lot. Quite a few of the moves she was pulling had nothing to do with what little that Darcy knew about fencing.
  Finally, Kate fake-killed the guy, and she turned toward Darcy. However, as she did and in the midst of Darcy being completely shocked at Kate’s sword fighting skills, Kate’s eyes went wide, and she pointed behind Darcy.
  Darcy immediately realized what Kate was trying to tell her.
  Darcy spun around with the sword clutched in her hand, unintentionally whacking someone in the head with it in the midst of her haste to turn around and see what was behind her. He cried out and fell to the ground, and Darcy’s eyes were ridiculously wide as she looked down at the person she had successfully taken down.
  She was quickly shaken as Kate ran up next to her and wrapped her arm around her, squeezing her in a joyful side-hug. She laughed happily, and Kate grinned at Darcy. Darcy’s eyes were wide and she looked at Kate uncertainly. However, Kate’s energy quickly rubbed off, and she could not help but laugh a little with her.
  “Oh, my gosh, you really kicked his butt!” Kate joyfully cried, and Darcy grinned incredulously.
  “I guess I did.”
  “Carry on, my fellow soldier! Let us vanquish more foes!” Kate happily yelled, and she ran off again. Darcy looked down at the guy she had taken out, and she chuckled softly before taking off after Kate.
  Maybe this was not quite as bad as she thought.
    ………………………………………………………………………………………………………
      At some point, only the most experienced LARPers were left behind, and Darcy was only alive as a result of Kate saving her on multiple occasions.
  Currently, they were hiding and trying to strategize. They were lying down on the ground in the dirt surrounded by the bushes, and they were whispering amongst themselves.
  “Okay, so I think there’s a group of them on our left flank and to the front of us. We’re going to have to decide which ones to take care of, and figure out a plan,” Kate softly explained, and Darcy shrugged.
  “I don’t know. Why don’t we pick them off one by one? Like one of us go and distract them and the other of us stab them from behind?” Darcy suggested, and Kate grinned, looking at Darcy happily.
  “I think you were made for this,” Kate complimented, and Darcy rolled her eyes, knowing that Kate had likely already come to the conclusion on her own. She scoffed in reply to her.
  “And I think you’re patronizing me,” Darcy replied, and Kate shook her head quickly, quick to deny it as she tried to keep her voice quiet as she could.
  “No! I genuinely think you’re good at this. And honestly, I’m really glad you decided to join in. It’s been really fun getting to do this with you,” Kate confessed and Darcy shrugged, smiling gently.
  “It’s been nice getting to see you have so much fun. You’re actually extremely talented with a sword. And not like in the usual fencing kind of way. Like in the super awesome hero kind of way,” Darcy complimented. Immediately, just as Darcy had expected, Kate puffed up ridiculously with the praise. Darcy could not help but feel her heart warm at the sight of Kate’s happiness.
  “Nah, I’m not that good… I mean… I’ve learned a few things, but I’m not that good,” Kate self-deprecatingly declared, and Darcy shook her head.
  “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re super cool,” Darcy assured her, and Kate took in a breath to speak and reply to her.
  But just as she did, people suddenly jumped through the bushes and tried to stab them. The both of them just barely managed to dodge, and they stood up, starting to try to get away as they tripped over the bushes together.
  They almost fell, but just as they thought that they had managed to get out the people’s sword range, someone threw an axe and hit Darcy in the back with the foam bouncing off her back. One of them managed to jump out far enough to stab Kate in the back with a sword.
  Kate paused and let out a horridly agonized sound. Darcy just stared at her as if she had completely lost her mind, and Kate fell to her knees dramatically.
  “I think I see a light… Mother? Dost thou beckon me?” Kate questioned aloud before hacking aloud in a dramatic cough. Darcy just stared, honestly shocked at the theatrics as she watched her.
  “The world… It is fading,” Kate declared, straining as she spoke. She clutched at her throat.
  “Goodbye, cruel world,” Kate cried before falling the last bit of the way to the ground, splaying out. Darcy just looked down at her, completely unimpressed.
  However, as she looked back at the people, she realized they were staring at her expectantly. Darcy let out a deep sigh, rolling her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all.
  “Oh, I am slain. Dead for a ducat, dead,” Darcy complained aloud before very slowly and carefully lowering herself to the ground. She slowly laid down on her back, trying to position her beanie so that it covered some of the back of her hair. She laid there with her hand on her stomach and remained still.
  After watching her for a moment, they eventually left to go and eliminate the other groups, and as soon as they were gone, Kate opened her eyes and looked at Darcy.
  They were quiet for just a moment before laughing heartily.
  “A ducat? What was that?” Kate asked in shock.
  “I was quoting Hamlet,” Darcy shot back in defense, unable to keep from laughing in spite of herself. Kate chuckled along with her, shaking her head.
  “You’re breaking character!” one of the dead people yelled suddenly, and they both went silent. They slowly looked at each other, and as soon as they made eye contact, they burst into laughter again.
  The dead person just groaned in irritation.
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lattecucart · 4 months
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i'm not dead yet
hiiiiii
so i haven't posted. in a while 😭😭😭😭😭sorry bout that i've been adjusting to new responsibilities and this semester has been very hard. so most of my free time has been devoted to writing (i set a new year's resolution to write 1k words a day every day and i haven't broken it yet!!!) and we've been squeezing in a couple mins here and there for art but there isn't much to show yet! working on an oc piece i'm really proud of, and i've got some doodles that i'll probably post eventually :))) (hope y'all don't mind a little less high-effort doodles in the margins of my lecture notes photographed with terrible lighting but it's all i've got in me rn 😭)
but anyways. about my fics. i'm sure most of you are aware of the absolute Insane amount of words we've been putting out this year. we just passed 400k a week or two ago omg. and like. i'm thinking about showing them off on tumblr??? because i'm v proud of a lot of them. like at least some masterposts/rec lists of my faves so you don't have to sort through like 4 pages and a good number of e fics oopsie
so like. just putting out some feelers. would anyone be interested in that? would like to know if at least some people would enjoy that, so i don't make a blog that no one wants to see lol. another option would be to just add writing content to this blog but i wanna be sensitive if people only want to follow fics/only writing 💖
anyways, to sum up: not dead. hopefully gonna start posting doodles soon. writing blog???
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chucklesim · 10 months
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Okay I've been working on the game but I don't have much I can physically show, so I'll explain my thought process about creating it so I have something to post and y'all know I'm still alive and working.
I learned how to make dating sims in renpy about 6 years ago to make a dating sim that consisted of random people I knew just for funsies, and so all the time I'll like something and be like "man I could totally make a visual novel of this!!". I never actually acted on it until I was nearing 20 shots of Fireball and two bottles of Molson (gotta rep the Canadian brands!!) deep in the middle of May, pulled out my notebook at the shitty dive bar and started scribbling away. For some reason coding HITS when you're drunk so I've told myself if I'm not gonna be able to kick my drinking habit I'm gonna be productive with it at the least, and have been working on it whenever I drink. The code isn't really the neatest because of it, but that's why I'm just working on it alone. It's a free fan passion project, if I'm the only one who can decipher and edit my messy coding that's okay. If suddenly it seems like y'all suddenly wanna mod it to add your own endings I'll assess the damage and move from there.
In terms of release, I should have specified that the full game will not be released in September. At the very least a basic Ted and Schlatt ending will be finished, I'm hoping Charlie too but it might be difficult since I'm gonna do a similar thing to unlocking Ren in boyfriend to death with him if all goes well. I'm working two jobs (I'm a social media manager which is funny because I can't be fucked (I can say that because this is a free fan game hahaha) to use my skills on my own accounts because I don't wanna just keep doing my job on my own time, and I work helping lead developments in Canadian Indigenous education at my local museum with a government grant) and I'm also going back to school in September (English Language and Literature, minor in German, don't speak to me in German I am a disgrace to the language so far) so I can't spend all the time I want to spend working on Chucklesim.
The plan is to get something playable out in September, then I'll crank out some updates through the year. As an English student who's naturally insane at reading I hardly have any homework that takes me forever, so I'd hopefully have time to have something out during my off days for exams in December and April.
In terms of dating routes, that's a no. I doubt Schlatt would be okay with that, and even if everyone was completely fine with it, Ted and Charlie have partners and I'd feel so disrespectful and weird if I made a dating sim for someone else's partner, regardless if they're famous or not.
I'm really happy to be working on this and I hope you all enjoy it. If you have any questions, any suggestions, wanna stay updated, please check out the link to the Google form here so I can have all that information easily accessible in one place. I want this to be our game, not just mine. My ask box is always open as well, even if you're just goofing off.
Keep chuckling, perhaps even allow yourself to chortle a little, and have a good day!
Love, Alyssia/ilovlys - Chuckle Sim's favourite (only) dev
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