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fandomfluffandfuck · 1 year

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Please do the Chris Evans pottery fic! I legit have always thought about for years! Like him taking a night class or a private class for anxiety or hobby (that Scott guilted him to take) so he doesn’t get recognized and the reader (please preferably male) vaguely knows who he is and doesn’t care and teaches him and he falls in love with reader. Like a slow burn. Bro please I’m on my knees begging 🙏 your writing is god tier for Chris fics

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First and foremost I have to say, goddamn, you really went back into the archives to find that post 💀💀 don't get me wrong, I appreciate the hell out of you for that but, also, oof, have I already been on Tumblr for 3 fucking years!?

What? When?

Second, I actually never thought too much about that idea haha. I just couldn't get past the idea of Chris using his hands in that way 🥴 because look, I'm much more of a sculptor than a potter, but it has never been lost on me (a) how much skill it takes to throw on the wheel, and (b) how fucking hot it can look lmao

So, because I never thought too deep about the idea beyond the look, I have to say That's A 👏🏻 Top 👏🏻 Notch 👏🏻 Idea 👏🏻

I love that idea, like:

Chris rolls up to a night pottery class with a baseball cap pulled down real low, trying not to be noticed, squeezing his shoulders in to be less big and noticeable.

You notice him though--he looks a little funny, trying so hard not to stand out and obviously not realizing that a long sleeve, chunky cardigan is 100% the wrong thing to wear when you're about to be playing with clay. But, you don't care about him being Mr. Movie Star (or dressed badly for this activity lol) because, obviously, if he's here for a class, he wants to learn

(Later you'll learn that Scott was the one to push him into it, telling him, lovingly, to quit just talking about beginning to work with his hands and actually Do It)

and so, he's gonna learn.

You are the teacher though, so... it's your duty to keep the secret that Captain America is in their midst.

(But that won't keep you from teasing him subtlety by asking him if he'd perhaps like a blue or red or clear glaze)

Chris might not pick up the skill of throwing as quickly as some of the others (mostly because he's never messed with clay before while many of the other students have even if it was years ago in high school or college or wherever), but he's dedicated.

He puts his all into learning throwing.

You learn quickly, instructing Chris, that he has this tendency to squeeze a little too hard and over-correct the clay. The strength he's got comes in handy with wedging clay and assisting in reconstructing the electric kilns by putting in the heavy shelves, but, when on the wheel, it's not about how hard you can press the clay, how hard you can squeeze it, or anything like that (unless you're working on huge, HUGE projects with massive amounts of clay... but, these students are not there yet). It's about letting your hands glide over the clay, it's encouraging the clay to stretch and compress delicately.

Pottery very much more finesse than force.

And you tell him that a lot in the beginning, "relax, for now, don't try to control it too much. Try to let go and just feel. Keep your elbows anchored in your hips and thighs, but, otherwise, stay loose and relaxed. Breath out. Sink into it, y’know? Relax."

Chris laughs, looking up at you from the little mound of clay he's been centering on his wheel head, "I didn't know this would be so... spiritual? I mean, shit, this feels like therapy."

"Ha," you say, "just be glad it's therapy and not Ghost."

Chris chuckles, "are those my only two options?"

"Right now, rookie? Yes." You point back at his unattended and still spinning wheel, "now, please put your nose back to the grindstone before I'm forced to saddle up behind you. I don't need to be shot in the streets before I get hands-on with my teaching"

You swear, under that cap and beard, Chris blushes. But. He also gets back to work, so... you can't be sure you're not just seeing things 👀

There are a lot of little moments like that throughout the class. Flirting. Maybe. Maybe not. Chris might just be that charming. You can't be too sure.

It's very charming to watch Chris pick up his wobbly creations after they've been put through the bisque kiln and laugh at their unstable bumps and lumps as he tries to set them flat on the table. Plus, when he sands his pieces, he murmurs to himself, talking about all the silly mistakes he finds. Nail marks. Dips. Bulges. Extra bits of clay he missed when trimming. You swear you hear him call himself a "meatball" once...

That is a challenge to not laugh at, but, you don't because you don't want him to know you're paying such close attention to him. (You can't have favorite students after all 😘)

And later, it's very sweet to watch him admire his first glazed pieces. He's very gentle with them, running his fingers back and forth, back and forth, over the smooth glaze. He seems to enjoy the smooth sensation.

Also, listen, I have no proof but I feel like Chris is gonna be the type of potter that gets Really Messy. Like, clay and slip all over his hands, of course, but also all up his forearms and flecks of it on his face and in his hair. His poor apron and shoes.

Also, I think Chris would be the type of potter that wipes their hands on their thighs over their apron 😮‍💨

Chris takes one class then another and another. He's getting much, much better.

But, he still looks like he's watching you perform magic when you quickly throw a vace or pie platter for a demonstration. It's really endearing. You'd love to see more of his face while watching you work, but, no matter how good you are at pottery, you can't do it without looking. Not yet... maybe someday, if you keep practicing.

And eventually, I'd like to think that you exchange numbers. Chris no longer takes your class and so it's fair game.

He comes over to your place and you cook a meal together because you already know each other well enough. So, you skip the more public dates that are better for strangers.

Chris seems mystified by the fact that ALL your plates, bowls, mugs, etc. are things you've made. Thrown on the pottery wheel. He just thinks it's very cool and personal. Also, he swears because of taking your class that he can't look at a factory-made plate or bowl or mug the same. They look so plain and lifeless now. In return, you tease that you'd offer to make him a set for his own home as a present (maybe for his birthday or Christmas) but, you're gonna insist that he at least try to make a set himself first.

And, hey, if he needs more encouragement maybe that Ghost option could come true...

Sorry, this is so short but I just had to get some real quick thoughts out between study sessions lol

Thank you so much for bringing this up again and thank you for reading!!

#asks #fandomfluffandfuck #chris evans #x reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x male reader #chris evans x gender neutral reader #chris evans x you #rpf

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isaacdoesart · 4 years

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Basic Guide to Binders

What’re Binders?

Chest binders are designed to flatten your chest, giving it a more masculine appearance

The full effect depends on the size of your chest and quality of your binder

They can be used by anyone with breast tissue, including people who’re AMAB (e.g. those who have Gynecomastia for example) or cis women for aesthetic reasons!

They’re almost always made of a swimsuit like material, with a compression panel at the front (that material is hard to describe)

Different kinds of binders:

Half binders:

(Photo from gc2b’s RGBP collection)

Half binders are great for when it’s hot, and are usually cheaper too

Can accidentally give you a muffin top!

Tank top/full binders:

Look more like tank tops, less like a sports bra!

Definitely keeps you warm, but made of sports material so its ok

Razorbacks:

(Photo from FLAVNT’s website)

Lots of people find this style more practical and comfortable!

Strapless

Usually too tight or poorly made, I really don’t recommend!

Zipper!

Some binders come with zips down the front, making them easier to take on and off, just make sure the company makes quality binders though

Nude colours:

(Photo from gc2b)

Like a lot of things in life, it’s hard to find nude binders in a variety of darker shades, but Flavnt and gc2b both offer reasonably good options, and Shapeshifter Inc offers custom material if you’re willing to splash out (£80)

These are great for going swimming if you don’t want to wear a t-shirt, but are harder to pass off as tank-tops if seen (although they look great under white t-shirts, if you get the right shade)

The classic white/black:

Every binder company besides Flavnt offers these

White looks great under all t-shirts, but half binders will look a bit like sports bras if you have a white t-shirt

Black will DEFINITELY show through non-black shirts, but is great for all my emos out there. GC2B��s are great because they don’t tend to fade to grey, and even offer grey as a colour

Funky:

(Screen shot of Shapeshifter Inc’s colourful binder collection! Honestly you can find anything you want on there)

These binders are great for events like pride! (Look at gc2b’s pride binders!)

Colour block ones like gc2b offers look awesome if you’re going for a bold statement or matching an outfit (look at their RGBP collection)

Where can I get one?

DO NOT buy from Amazon or similar ‘market place’ style websites, they’re often made of the wrong fabrics (so can’t stretch enough) and come in the wrong sizes—they can cause permanent rib damage

That being said: gc2b is probably the only brand i really recommend, they’re safe, well made and well known, and have a lot of discount codes, they also have a European store now, meaning their deliveries come more quickly than other brands a lot of the time—$37 or £30 for half binders and $41 or £33 for tank top binders

Other options include Underworks, Flavnt, Shapeshifters Inc, or Heroine

Underworks is good for longer binders that don’t have compression on the stomach too, they have a website but can also be found on Amazon (just make sure you’re buying from them)—around $44 or £35

Flavnt has slightly odd necklines, but a good range of nude colours, have razor backs—around $50 or £40.50

Shapeshifters Inc has handmade, very funky binders. Importantly, they offer custom sizing and can alter the width of straps for you, etc. Don’t offer as much compression as others, but are good binders overall!—around $50 or £40.50

Heroine’s binders (I know, the name is a bit of a turn off) are actually pretty good from what I hear, but tend to be marketed to masculine women rather than trans masc people, and the often sports-bra like cuts reflect this, but are by no means bad! They also come with a zip down the side usually, but are almost entirely in black and grey. Shipping may take a while.—$45

What if I can’t afford it?

There’s lots of discount codes! I recommend going on youtube and looking at recent reviews, they’re often sponsored and have discount codes

This website has second hand binders for $10

Point of Pride does binder giveaways

This Tumblr reblogs giveaway posts

Reach out to trans people online, often they’ll know good places to get cheaper binders, or be willing to give you an old one

Make sure that you’ve got some spare change if you’re shipping internationally, because sometimes things get stuck in customs

DIY Binders:

I really don’t recommend sewing your own, and for health reasons you should never try bandages or tape

BUT: good alternatives to binders (if you’re more small chested) are sports bras (obviously this mostly applies to AFAB folks but it’s definitely relevant), any non-paded one you can find should be ok, and are good if you want a flatter chest but are stuck in the closet.

If you need to then layering sports bras is an option, but you shouldn’t do that for more than a few hours, and should immediately stop if you find yourself out of breath (I’ll talk about this more in a sec)

Also, tight-ish tank tops/vests (sorry for my UK English idk the American word!) can be folded in half and have a flattening effect (but they do look a bit lumpy, and don’t have any support)

I’m in the Closet/can’t let my parents know:

Binder companies tend to ship discreetly, with their parcels looking like your regular Amazon package

If you’re out to a friend, you can always get it shipped to their’s

If you called them up in advance, getting it shipped to an LGBT centre is also an option

Half binders can be passed off as sports bras, especially if they’re razor back

Binding with Health Problems:

If you have asthma, it’s not too much of an issue, but take it slow (you can always take it off in a toilet cubicle and have a breather?), don’t bind for too long (six hours or so) and pay attention to how you feel.

Safe Binding:

I’m an idiot, so I haven’t always used a binder safely, especially when my dysphoria is bad—but this advice is probably the most important thing on here:

Do not bind for more than 7 or 8 hours

Avoid strapless binders, however practical they look

Never sleep in a binder

PLEASE never wear more than one binder at a time

If you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe—take a break and listen to your body

If you’re in between sizes, size UP not down! Binder’s usually come smaller than you expect

You can swim in (some) binders (e.g. gc2b, i know i’ve mentioned them a lot), but will likely find that it really really hurts your ribs if you go too far under

But ‘Why?’ you might ask!

Complications from improper binder use include rib damage (fractures, breakages, permanent rib bending) and tissue damage (this can seriously impact your chances and results for top surgery!)

Excess binding usually leads to your chest muscles weakening (AKA you will get a saggy chest) but this can be avoided by working out your chest and taking breaks :)

Binding can also lead to breathing difficulties and impact growth! (Just look at me, oof)

Thank you for reading! In conclusion, don’t cut corners, bind safely and have a great day!

Feel free to add to the post if there’s anything i forgot/got wrong.

#transgender #trans guy #trans #binder

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batbirdies · 5 years

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NaNoWriMo 2019 Batfam fic Part 5

Part 5 of my Jason Todd Batfam fic where Jason eventually agrees to dog sit Titus, there are some deep seated issues, unintended animal therapy, snarky text messages between robins and eventually some reconciliation between father and son. Takes place in a murky in between time sometime after Damian was resurrected.

Hopefully I get the links right in this one unlike my last post, as someone kindly pointed out, because I tried to edit the link and just holy cow. The website won’t save it, and if I try to edit posts on the app? It just deletes all the content completely. Very nice Tumblr....

Same warning as all other installments: this is a very rough draft that is being copied and pasted from my working google doc. Expect mistakes. These are also snippets, and there is skipped content in between.

Part 1,

Part 2,

Part 3,

Part 4

Some days were better than others but the flash of the fighting pits that morning put him enough on edge that in the end, he’d sided with staying in. Even if skipping out so much left him with a lingering sense of guilt, it was better than shooting someone because the pit told him to.

And hey, Bruce was right after all, he’d always wanted a dog so he might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

So he makes himself dinner, something good, from scratch that he can keep on hand for after patrol snacks on other days. He digs through his kitchen and settles on fajitas, easy but delicious and good leftovers. He takes Titus on a third walk that evening just before he eats and then he feeds him just before dishing himself up dinner.

He watches Titus fling one of his toys around a little while he eats and thinks maybe he’ll take him to a dog park the next day instead of just walking around the block. The whole point was that he needed the exercise wasn’t it? He was friendly and it was something for Jason to do in the middle of the day when he’d normally be knee deep in research for a case. So he reads up on local ones and finds one not too far away that’s an off leash park where he can throw the ball for Titus and get him some decent exercise. The demon will probably even be happy about it.

When it’s nearing the time he’d normally be leaving for patrol he peruses his bookshelves, picks out an old favorite, makes himself a mug of tea and lays out on the couch with the new blanket draped over his lower half and reads. Tries not to think about the people on the streets that might need him, that he could be leaving without protection while he’s lounging somewhere comfortable and warm.

It feels lazy, after everything he’s done and been through.

But he’s not Batman. He knows his limits, he knows when he should back off and take a break and so that’s that. He doesn’t think about it.

He tries to absorb himself in the story, and manages a little, until about ten minutes later when there’s a heavy shift in weight on the couch and Jason looks up from his book to find Titus carefully picking his feet around his legs.

“What do you think you’re— Oof-“ His breath wheezed out of him in a rush as Titus’ full weight came down on his gut, all balanced on one small foot. “You’re crushing me, what are you doing?” Another two steps and the dog was suddenly settling down, shoving his hands and book out of the way, Titus whole body resting on top of Jason’s. Nose reaching all the way up to his collar bone, front paws tucked in next to his head, the rest of him a solid, heavy weight down his front with lower legs resting between Jason’s. He gasps out a laugh and wishes his phone was within reach, he’d get another picture to send to Damian.

Titus huffs out a very soft growl and Jason settles a hand on his head, scratching at his itchy ears while he turns his head from side to side and whaps his tail against the soft leather of the couch.

“You do this to the kid too? You’re bigger than he is, you’d break his ribs.” Titus only lets out a pleased little grumble at the ear scratches before Jason finishes with a pat to the side of his neck and attempts to find a comfortable place to settle his book and read with the dog on top of him. It’s an oddly comfortable weight, even if his bony little elbows are jutting into his rib cage and his lungs feel mildly compressed. The little warm puffs of air on the backs of his hands when he finally sets the book in front of Titus’ nose, uncomfortably close to his face, are kind of...nice too.

Jason hadn’t gone to sleep before 2am in he could even remember how long, but it was just nearing midnight when he’s starting to nod off. Titus weight and body heat making him weirdly drowsy. The words on the page blur in front of him multiple times before he finally slips a bookmark in the page he could last actually remember and set it on the coffee table next to him. Then he rested his hands on either side of Titus head and closed his eyes, letting himself just fall asleep. He’d regret it later when he woke up in the middle of the night with his neck killing him or Titus crushing his sternum while getting down off the couch, but for the time being, he felt oddly relaxed.

He was drifting off before he knew it.

The dream that night is not a new one. Not that they ever are, but it does start more abruptly than he’s used to.

He opens his eyes in the dark and he’s blinking and blinking and the air around him is hot and stale and Jason has no idea where he is or how he got there, but it’s cramped and he can’t move his arms above his head and his heart is pounding so loud it’s all he can hear. There’s not enough air, his elbows keep slamming into the sides of the box he’s in and he’s crying, panicking, in seconds. Clawing at the barrier above him until his nails are torn and bleeding. His only rational thought comes when he manages to slip his belt off, when he starts tearing at the exposed wood of the coffin with the buckle, mindless, angry, terrified, it’s all he can do to keep moving so he doesn’t just lay down and die again.

Splintered chips of wood cut up his hands but the sting is nothing compared to the frantic adrenaline pumping through him. All at once the weakened wood gives way and then Jason is sputtering and coughing up soil that’s collapsing in -

Something cold and wet touches his cheek and he’s blinking his eyes open to a dimly lit apartment and Titus’ big head right in his face. He noses at his chin and whines and Jason groans, shoving away Titus’ face and feeling his skin crawl, he tries to push the dog off and Titus goes without complaint, jumping to the floor with only one well placed kick to Jason’s bladder.

He lays there, staring at the ceiling and counting his breaths. Titus licks his hand and Jason jerks upright, startled, and swallows. The dog sits down on the floor but presses himself to the side of the couch, shoves his head in Jason’s lap and he focuses on that, on the soft, velvet like fur under his fingers when he rubs them across the bony head.

“I’m fine.” He whispers to the dog, like Titus is worried about him or something. “Thanks for waking me up.” He can just see the whites of the dog’s eyes flash when he glances up at him, like he’s really listening. “The rest of that dream is….not good.” He draws in a deep breath, feels like his lungs are still compressed and counts himself an idiot for not realizing sleeping with a weight on his chest would drag up those particular memories.

“My fault.” He feels boneless. “Sorry I scared you.” Titus lifts his head and gets a solid lick to Jason’s face before he manages to jerk back, gets a face full of dog breath that has him suppressing a gag. “Christ.” He shoves his snout the other direction, feeling a slightly hysterical laugh bubble up in his chest. “You are really something, you know that?”

Jason sits there for a little while longer, letting his breathing even out and scratching at Titus’ ears and down his neck. His bladder is dying for a relief and he finally levers himself up off the couch and shuffles to the bathroom, listens to Titus’ claws clicking across the linoleum of the kitchen floor when he goes for a drink.

Exhaustion pulls at him, even after the dream, now that his heart rate is back down to normal and instead of pulling out a book or the headphones or watching stupid aimless YouTube video’s on his phone like he might normally, he crawls into his bed and lays on his stomach, face pressed into a pillow. He can feel himself drifting back off and has a minor twinge of fear that the dream will just start back up again - but then he feels the weight on the mattress shift and Titus pads up next to him, settling himself on the lower half of the bad, half curled up, and sets his chin on the back of Jason’s leg. He feels the weird sensation of the dog swallowing and he’s out before he has another moment to worry.

#Jason Todd #Fanfiction #NaNoWriMo #Batfam #I promise this is more than just Jason having repeated PTSD nightmares #trigger warning PTSD #for that matter #nightmares #someday ill post one of these NOT in the middle of the night #it’s currently 1am where i am

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mrnibblesleviathan · 5 years

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Entry 5.1: Silhouette

We’re not posting links at the start of these anymore because tumblr staff is a bunch of assholes. Fic hyperlinks can be found at the main blog page. Sorry.

Ryley was surprised to find Bart standing in front of the window from the workstation as they came back from their daily gathering of building materials. He seemed almost fine today. Didn't look like he'd fall at any second.

He greeted Ryley at the moonpool with an excited voice. "Hey, pal! What did you get for me today?"

"Copper, Titanium, Silver. How you feeling?" Ryley asked, signing. They were progressing, little by little. That was a sentence that was useful enough for them to remember most times.

"I'm feeling as great as someone who's got space plague can be." He answered with a smile, watching Ryley climb out of the pool. "I only blacked out once today.” He waved at them when Ryley crossed their arms in disapproval. “Hey, don't worry, I'm better now. I just wanted to see how the cuddlefish was doing. I climbed the ladder to the aquarium. Maybe I shouldn't have done that." Bart apologized, turning his head away.

Ryley noticed a certain frustration in that gesture. They looked at him, trying to remember the sign for the wrong in “what’s wrong”. Unable to remember, they resolved for "what's up" instead. Bart seemed to get it.

"Sometimes... I feel like I'll never get better." He confessed. "I should have accepted this already. I've been living with this disability for years now, but..." He shook his head, sighing. "Trying to do anything usually means pushing myself." He told them, more for his own sake than theirs. "Trying to study means giving myself a headache, trying to climb a ladder means passing out. Even just doing nothing is uncomfortable. I can't remember a time where being awake didn't hurt."

Ryley sighed, letting that sink in. It was still hard for them, to listen to Bart talk about his pain. Of course, being in pain was even worse for Bart, and they understood that, but it made them feel so useless. They could fabricate him some medication, do their best to give him comfort, but in the end, specially after seeing him talk about it as a disability, rather than a disease, they knew that illness wasn’t going away. At least not any time soon.

"But you are... going... better", they answered. Even though they mistook the sign for "getting" to "going", it still made sense. They pulled out the PDA from the Compressed Inventory and started typing. "I’ve been watching you get better. It's only been a few days, and look! You're back to walking again. You're already decorating the base with new plants! You’ve made so much progress!"

"C'mon, Ryley, I told you to sign." Bart smirked. "You already learned a lot of these words."

Ryley stopped typing, making a pouty face. They did their best to remember the next words, so they could sign them off. "I… think… I know what you need." They said. And then, fast and surprisingly, they grabbed Bart and threw him on their back. To be fair, Bart weighed about as much as a sack of fiber mesh, it wasn’t hard.

"WH..." Bart gasped. "What are we doing? Ryley what the-"

His words were cut short when Ryley threw him out into the moonpool, making water splash in all directions. They quickly grabbed his helmet, resting inside his personal locker, and cannonballed into the sea with him.

Bart was still gasping and coughing when they arrived at the second base, the separate half from Ryley's habitat. They helped Bart through the hatch, laughing as he stared at them in confusion.

"A warning next time would be nice, you know?" He complained. "But I'm glad you finally brought me here. I've been wanting to see what you kept..."

He forgot to finish the sentence, as he saw the enormous two-story aquarium in front of him. On the floor, a multitude of assorted vines and mushrooms were growing, and between them, at least five different alien eggs were shimmering and pulsating. A few creatures were already hatched. Four different sharks - two stalkers, one boneshark and one sandshark. A crashfish. And even two unbelievably tiny crabsnakes. Compared to the size - and behavior - of the adults, it was obvious they were all juveniles. Most of those species would never tolerate or even fit within the same space as each other.

Ryley smiled at their friend. “Research Facility. I have… unknown eggs here.” They signed, a little unsure, despite having prepared for this. “You can go in. Friendly.” They opened the hatch and held out a hand, leading their friend in.

“Wait, stop for just a second, magic can resume in 2 minutes.” Bart held up his hands, a burning question came to mind now that he’s seen Ryley’s aquarium. “Is this how you scanned a boneshark?”

Ryley laughed and shook their head. They paused for a minute with a small smirk before they popped in the hatch and went up to the boneshark, miming punches at the young creature before patting it’s head and swimming back to the hatch.

Bart was speechless for a moment, but not long. “You. You’re trying to tell me you boxed a boneshark.”

Ryley nodded and grinned. “Yes. I punched…” Ryley frowned, making a few frustrated noises before starting to sign “bone”, then shook their head. They took their two hands, wrists together, so that the two hooked fingers on each hand made teeth for a mouth. Ryley grinned, they seemed very pleased with themselves.

“Look at you! Communicating! Making a sign for a species that doesn’t exist on Earth! Boneshark, right?” Bart returned Ryley’s grin with a beam of his own as they excitedly nodded. “Still doesn’t excuse boxing a boneshark. By the stars, how are you even alive?”

“Coming?” Ryley put out their hand again, totally ignoring their friend, and pulled Bart into the tank. Immediately, the fish swarmed the two of them. Bart was fascinated, he’d never been able to see these creatures so close before, at least not without the imminent threat of bodily harm.

“They’re beautiful. So friendly too, did you train them at all?” Bart smiled as he pet the crabsnake that was swimming its way around his arms. It’s crust was soft, wigglier than the adult ones. Would probably harden into their crab armour in an older age.

“No. They… Don’t mind?” Ryley signed, shrugging to try and show they’re confused. Bart smiled, shrugging back and turning his attention to the predators swimming in circles around him. Ryley smiled at their friend, playing with the docile would-be predators. The stalkers seemed to enjoy bopping their noses into him, sending him off balance with a comical oof. Bart laughed, and it wasn’t quite as full as it had been years ago, but it still sounded like music to Ryley. How did they miss seeing that boy’s happy face again.

But it seemed the moment wasn’t to last.

Ryley folded over behind Bart, stifling a groan. Their vision filled with blue, and an echoing voice filled their ears. “Remember that you were never alone.” The blue image of a majestic creature filled their head to the point of bursting. They could vaguely hear a voice calling to them, reminding them of the friend they had to watch for. The blue shimmered again as they opened their eyes, looking for Bart past the lights in their vision. Just as the world was dimming, they felt themselves fall downwards. Then the blue faded, leaving an afterglow that burned their eyes, and a nasty headache throbbing across the top of their head. Rubbing their forehead, they looked up to where their legs were still half in the hatch, along with a frustrated and concerned Bart.

“I hope you know just how hard it was to get your giant ass out of that tiny hole.” Bart grumbled as he tried to remove their feet from the hatch, which Ryley politely decided to help with. Then he ungracefully tumbled out of the hatch himself and sat down on the floor next to his friend. “What the fuck just happened?”

Oh, swears. Bart must have been really shaken up. Ryley themself could barely understand their situation as well, but still pulled out their PDA with shaking hands and tried to type. After a few trial and errors, they finally let it start speaking.

“I had some kind of vision. It was glowing in my eyes and left a headache all over my head. It was like the shadow of a creature, and all I could see were four bright eyes. It was trying to talk to me.” They tapped at the screen, backing up more than not. They rubbed at their face before the voice sounded again, “Could make out it saying I wasn’t alone. And it sounded comforting, rather than threatening.” They kept their eyes in their hands. Mostly from the residual headache, though partly trying to find a focal point to get their brain back together. What was that?

“So you’ve seen her too.” Bart whispered. “The visions… Dad thought I’d gone mad. Island sickness, he told Maida that one day. Didn’t talk about it much with me. He tried to keep scarce when the fits happened.” Bart looked down at his hands. “After they died, the visions weren’t as frequent. But they said a lot of comforting things too. I never knew whether to hate ‘em or love ‘em. After all, until now I thought I was just crazy.”

Ryley looked up, once again wishing so hard they could speak. There was no way to interpret that event, except that…

“It seems we’re not alone in this planet. There’s a sentient being out there, trying to reach us. A friendly one, if we’re reading this correctly.” They typed.

“A friendly one. A friend. Gods we might have a friend out there” Bart sighed, in relief, and waved his head. “For once a welcome change. Let me have this moment, Ryler, I might just be able to sleep better at night.” They both laughed.

#atwr #atwr fic #subnautica #ryley robinson #bart torgal #fanfic #and they were roommates

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