#or just write a damn fic in it first and let it explain itself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

squibsformers · 7 months ago

Text

Feral Fears, Ch. 1

Human x Transformers fic

MTMTE/Lost Light, First Contact AU

Rating: M

Word Count: 1,004

Desc: After needing to stop off for more supplies, the Lost Light gets a strange, displeased, new passenger.

AN: Hi hi hello I hope you like this! This was the poll winner, maybe I'll do another chapter soon. If you like it let me know! I enjoy reading tags and comments on my things a lot. This one's short to kinda get me back into the swing of writing.

[Next]

“How in the pit have we gone through this much energon so quickly…?” Yellow servos tapped rapidly against the owner's desk, glaring at the report from Ultra Magnus.

“If you bothered to pay attention, you would have heard me when I said the breach in the ship had us LOSE much of our stock, as well as how quick we went through our repair supplies... We can refuel and pick up more once we hit the next stop off, but we may be stationed at the outpost longer than you'd like.”

The prime sighed. “Longer as in a few vorns or-”

“Cycles. We have to wait for them to get us what we want if they don't have it.”

“Slag. Well… Damn. Okay, I guess we don't really have a choice- Set a course for the nearest outpost, tell the crew they're getting a… surprise few days of tourism to go run around and do whatever it is they please.”

“...That's not-” Ultra Magnus sighed. “That's bound to lead to trouble.”

“You wanna explain to everyone they're grounded to their rooms while we're parked and picking up supplies?”

Ultra Magnus sighed. “No…”

“That's what I thought. Plot a course! Let's get moving, the ship isn't gonna fuel itself!”

–---

Legs carried them desperately, ducking and weaving along unshipped cargo and barrels of fuel.

They had to keep moving. Keep moving, keep quiet, keep running. Your lungs burned, feeling like hot embers were popping in your bronchial tubes, making them hiss and whine quietly as they flex, their feet thumping quietly, trying to run on the balls of their feet as they scurried through the shipping bay.

They had to keep moving. Keep moving, keep running, keep pushing and going, it can't stop, if they stop they're FUCKED so utterly fucked-

“♠︎£°▪︎¤#%¡¡¿ ~×&%ꕥ˚꒦꒷꒷﹆¡¡”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck-

They ducked down between two shipping containers that barely had enough space that they could squeeze between, cutting down the row and looking around.

Where to go. They had to hide, running wasn't going to work, they were so much bigger, so much stronger and faster and smarter- but they could be crafty. Ohoho and could be sneaky.

….I mean they couldn't see shit but. Well. That would just be an obstacle to work past.

The organic looked around, squinting while leaning back against a crate… and stumbled some, feeling the massive box's frame was warped. Frowning, it looked up, and noticed a small, dark spot waaay up at the lid.

….Hole. That had a hole.

Hopefully, a hole the human could wedge itself into.

To the right, they spotted some metal pallets…and started climbing, grunting and huffing with effort. The makeshift knapsack weighed them down some, but they kept moving, desperate for an escape, for freedom. The fleshy's hands slip at one point and they drop, letting out a pain-filled wheeze and hearing a nasty, wet crack.

Don't think about it. Don't think about it, don't do it. Barely even slowing down, the human heaves themself up, panting. Their free hand reaches over…and they whine as they clench the break, sliding the bone into…relative place. It looked…okay. Perfectly fine. Yes.

Absolutely. Couldn't even tell it had a staircase break.

….Time to climb again.

The human sighed and began scrabbling up, wincing and trying to ignore the obvious injury it had. They didn't have time to worry about that, and they needed to get to safety-

“^^□●₩◆°°°▪︎°%”

Fuck. Those fucking robots were close.

One pallet, two, three, four, six, eight-

When the organic reached the top of the pallets stack, they looked over to that crate, judged the little distance you could out…

And leapt across the gap, purposefully overshooting the edge so it wouldn't miss but stumbled and landed hard, cracking their already damaged arm, letting out a yelp of pain.

“!#$♤♤□♡°•°¡¡”

Time to hurry. That sounded very aggressive.

Feeling along the edge of the crate, they finally found the hole… and blindly smushed themselves inside, falling a small distance onto a pile of…something.

Cabling? It felt like cables, it had the outer layer of rubbery plastic…

Geez it was dark.

……Geez it was really dark.

They heard metallic footsteps storm closer, and the little organic being covered their mouth, taking slow breaths to try and stifle the sounds of being… well, alive.

They stayed that way for what felt like hours, the dark slowly pressing more and more in on you, stifling and terrifying but at the same time a sanctuary, a safety net. They listened as those pedes paced about, searching, scouring, seeking them out. They heard the strange “Vrr wrr chtcht chitter krr bzrtkr krrrzst” that was their strange natural language. Aggressive tones. Still mad. They heard…

….

They heard beeping. Something is getting closer, beeping is getting louder. Heard new footsteps, old ones fleeing once the shouting began. Heard the beep directly outside their cable sanctuary.

And then… felt movement. The crate jostled and shook, and you held your breath, waiting for the lid to be ripped off and you to be found….

But…that didn't happen. Instead…. the crate moved. And you were moving along with it, whether you wanted to or not.

There was chatter, again. Lots of chatter. Then there was an obnoxiously loud beep near one side of the crate, another more.. blippy-beep next to that spot…And the crate moved once more, rattling a bit, before there was a hiss, a soft thud and the sound of pedes leaving.

The little human stayed in that crate. Stayed in it for hours.

And then there was a new noise. A louder noise. A deep, thrumming, hum, that evolved into a bone and brain rattling roar, of impossible machinery kicking in, engines revving, turbines whirling, and a feeling like, for a brief moment, their soul was pulled from their body.

When they felt relatively normal again, the human slowly peeked out from the hole in the crate, and squinted.

They had a feeling they were on another stupid ship.

#transformers x human #transformers x reader #reader insert #tf x human #tf x reader #first contact au #first contact #maccadam #squibs writes

194 notes · View notes

angelltheninth · 6 months ago

Text

Every Time He Leaves

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, reunions, teasing, family planning

Word count: 0.8k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: I heard that the sequel isn't coming in 2025 but that won't stop me from writing fics for this amazing man.

"Mi vida, I'm home." Miguel heavy footsteps echoed through the halls, a good sort of comfort now in your current state. "Baby? Are you asleep?" You could pretend to be. Like you pretended all those night before, then wake up in the morning and wonder if he would be there or not. No. Not this time.

You waited for him to open the door, his charming, soft smile thrown your way, almost shaking your resolve.

"You didn't have to wait up for me you know, I don't mind cuddling up next to my-" He stopped talking once his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom and he saw your eyes red from crying, "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" You nodded. You were about to explain when he was in front of you in a flash, his hands pressing and prodding, looking you over. The bed dipped to one side under Miguel's weight, his worried expression turning a little angry, " Where does it hurt? Who hurt you? I'll make them regret it!"

You let out a long heavy sigh. Taking one of his hands you placed it above your heart and then pointed your finger at him, finally meeting his eyes with your being full of tears, "You hurt me."

"What?" He looked like you just slapped him, which would have been preferable, he would hardly feel that. But your words, they cut deep. "What do you mean? Was I rough with you last night? You told me it was-"

"Oh for gods sake Miguel, I'm not talking about that. I'm not physically hurt." You backed up a bit, putting some space between you two. It was a little empty space, easy to close, yet it felt like you were worlds, universes apart, "I don't ever see you anymore. You go on missions, you come back, you... fuck me and then you leave. Do you really not get how that makes me feel? How... used and alone I feel?"

The sex was good. The sex was damn good. Perfect even. He was so close to you, he was smiling at you, you were one with him, holding him, feeling him everywhere, kissing him. But those moments, they passed way too quickly for your liking and then you were empty and alone again.

"Is that really how you feel?" He sounded like he couldn't wrap his head around what you were saying. At the same time you could see it on his face that he was putting the puzzle pieces together. "I love you, more then anything, you're the most important person in this or any universe to me. I... would stop. If you wanted me to. We could settle down, buy a bigger house, start a family, like we talked about."

"How? How can you say that when you leave without... without even telling me? Your job is important, I understand that, but for the love of god Miguel, I'm your girlfriend! I at least deserve to know when you're leaving don't I? What if... what if one day you... what if you don't come back to me?" You started hiccuping while you cried, your body shaking from the wave of emotions that you were finally able to unleash. There was a part of you that felt like it was selfish, that Miguel wasn't yours to keep and that doing so would mean a lot of people would get hurt. Did you deserve him in the first place?

Miguel's arms wrapped around your smaller frame, you could hear his heart beating quickly, you could feel him shaking along with you while he balanced himself on his knees, his suit flickering on and off. "I would never abandon you. Even if I have to crawl back from Hell itself I'd find a way to come back to you. I made up my mind long ago, when I die it will when we're both old and I lost all my hair."

"And we have grandkids running around?" You whisper against his chest, voice still raw from crying and nose stuffed from sniffles.

"So many grandkids. We're gonna have a big family, just like we planned. I know its hard right now but its almost over okay? Then we can settle down anywhere you want." Miguel cupped the back of your head as his lips pressed to your forehead, lingering there for the longest time, "Nothing is more important then you. Nothing."

"I want at least three kids." He nodded, "A big house in the country side." A nod, "A big, cuddly dog." Another nod, "And you in my bed every night." He kissed you, not caring the least that you tasted like tears. But he didn't stop there. His hands lifted you up by the hips, your legs wrapping around his body as you felt yourself being lowered on the bed.

You felt his suit vanish and warm muscles take its place, "Three kids. That's a lot of work. We should practice as much as we can." Miguel smirked like an idiot while he undressed you, ready to prove his love to you.

143 notes · View notes

cowboydisaster · 2 years ago

Note

could you write a fic about simon and a reader who is going through withdrawals? Sorry if that's not real specific, you can take it in what ever direction you please. Thank you

Hope

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem! reader word count: 2k summary: Simon helps you get through withdrawals, offering you hope in the darkest point of your life. a/n: heed the warnings please!!!! I cried a good bit while writing this. You're never alone my friends, and there is always hope. Always. (p.s. there is a mention of wanting children in this fic, so keep that in mind. p.p.s why does tumblr destroy my image quality, it makes me sad.) warnings: opioid addiction, withdrawals, addiction, emetophobia, illness masterlist

"Si-Simon, I can't do this. I'm n-not strong enough." You whimper, clammy hands gripping onto his shirt with every pathetic ounce of strength that you can muster. Your voice is hoarse, throat thick with mucus and body covered in a stale cold sweat that soaks through your oversized t-shirt. Simon has never seen you so weak, so frail in his arms.

He's seen you take down men twice your size, clear rooms with more than ten enemies. You've faced countless opponents, broken through endless physical and mental barriers, but in the end, the one thing you couldn't defeat was the pills.

If you'd known you were trading your life away when you were handed the bottle, you never would have taken it in the first place.

"For the pain." The doctor had said, "Just until this gunshot wound clears up."

Only it didn't. Before you even realized it, your body was already addicted. You craved the numbness that the damned capsules gave you, the release from the endless pain that singed your nerves day and night. You couldn't give them up. You tried– but the sickness that came when you stopped– you were sure it would kill you.

Simon didn't know what to do. You lied, you kept him at a distance, never fully explaining to him what was going on. He didn't realize how bad it was. He tried not to pry, or to push you, but Simon put his foot down when he found you on the bathroom floor unconscious, a bottle of pills on the counter, half empty. His words reverberated in your ears, a harsh warning that he wouldn't watch you kill yourself.

"You have to get clean, Y/N." He'd said from a place of love, but you couldn't help but crumble under his judgment, "I can't watch you do this to yourself anymore. You 'ave to sober up."

So here you are, a heap in Simon's lap, the both of you intertwined on the bathroom floor as you fight the overwhelming illness that accompanies withdrawals. Everything you've survived: loss, wounds, torture– it pales in comparison to the misery you're experiencing now. You refused to go to a detox center, not wanting to lose your position in the Task Force. You promised Simon that you'd let him drive you to the hospital if things got bad, but you want to do this at home.

Bile rises from your stomach, lingering in the back of your throat as you gag. Immediately, Simon pulls your hair back into his fist, and helps to position you over the toilet.

You dry heave, gagging on air as both of your cold hands grip the toilet bowl. Your wedding band glints in the dim bathroom light, bringing another layer of anguish to your already broken soul.

He shouldn't have to deal with this.

"Easy, love. Get it all out. I've got you." Simon coos as your stomach aches and flips, desperate to rid itself of any contents. Only you haven't been able to eat, so nothing comes up but painful bursts of air. You gasp and heave, collapsing back against Simon and erupting into loud sobs. Your bones ache as you fall onto his chest, and his hands hover over your form, unsure on how to hold you without shattering you even further.

"I can't– I can't! Simon, please! Please. I'm going to die. M' gonna die–" You panic, "I'm not strong enough. You know that I'm not." You plead, begging for the substance that he has already flushed down the drain, your mind refuses to believe that it's actually gone.

Simon's previously unbreakable heart manages to crack, and he wishes more than anything to carry the burden of your suffering. You're his wife, and it's his job to take the weight off your shoulders, but he can't do this for you. He can, however, be with you every step of the way. You showed him a new way of living, a way to do more than just survive. You've shown him love when he was undeserving of it. It's unbearable for him to see you, such a beam of light, in so much pain.

"Look at me, baby. Look at me." Simon holds your face until your eyes meet his. Those chestnut colored irises hold your attention– the same ones you looked into as you read your vows, as you suffered pain, and loss, felt love and lust. They've watched after you through everything.

"You can do this, yeah? You're the strongest person I know. Stronger than any other soldier in the Task Force, stronger than me. If anyone can beat this, it's you." Simon reassures.

Your face crumples when you realize he's firm in his decision. You shake your head, clammy palms coming to rest against your face.

"Please, Simon." You beg once again. Your body is trembling like a leaf held against the wind, cold wraps around your bones suffocatingly, squeezing every ounce of comfort from your being and leaving you high and dry. Pure, unadulterated suffering.

"Come 'ere." Simon whispers, standing up from the tile floor and scooping you into his arms. He hooks his arms under your head and knees before carrying you into the bedroom.

The soft bed dips under your shared weight as Simon lays down with you, his body wrapping around your own like a perfect puzzle piece. He pulls your back to his chest, letting you use his tattooed arm as a pillow. Your sobs quiet down to muffled whimpers as you shake lightly, wishing you could go back in time, solve this before it became a problem.

Father time has never been merciful though, has he?

"Blanket or no?" Simon asks. You nod your head quickly.

"Yes, it's so cold. I'm so cold." Your teeth chatter lightly as you reiterate. Simon pulls the thick comforter over your forms, tucking it in around the edges as he adjusts behind you.

An hour ago you were burning up, stripping off your clothes and sobbing at the heat clawing its way through your body like some sort of fiery plague. He'd put you in a cool bath, checking your temperature probably more often than what was necessary.

You shake and writhe, whimpers and groans of agony slipping past your lips every once in a while. It's killing Simon to see you like this. Every ounce of light has drained from your eyes, the life has seeped from your pores, replaced with the lingering disease of addiction. He misses your laughter, your smile. It could light up a room. You've gotten the boys through many dark days. You were the sunshine of the Task Force. Failed missions, loss, heartache, no matter how bad things got, your optimism never ceased. Not until recently, anyhow.

"We'll get there again." Simon tells himself like a mantra in his head,"She'll get better."

He's personally seeing that you do. He won't allow you the pills to take hold of you, he'll fight. He's seen more soldiers die from pills than bullets. He won't let you meet that fate, he won't.

He can't lose you.

The room is covered with a calm silence, only the sound of your quick breathing to let him know you're still alive. Simon is quiet as well, and you drown in the silence, hoping for any kind of distraction to pull you away from your unending misery. You can feel yourself giving up, wanting nothing more than to slip into old habits. You slip your eyes shut, opening them only once a voice rumbles in your ear.

"I was thinking… when you're better we'll get a bigger house." Simon quietly blurts out from behind you.

A wrinkle forms in between your brows, and you crane your neck to look at him. You're sure he's trying to distract you, coming up with random conversation to keep your mind off of the present. When you look back, his gaze is far away, fixed on something on the far wall. A small smile graces his uncovered lips– he's been keeping the mask off at home recently, you've noticed. There is a light in his eyes, a light that you used to think would never grace the eyes of Simon Riley.

"What? Why would we need a bigger house?" You ask with a small chuckle. He's succeeding in his distraction, you realize.

His eyes flicker down to yours, hand gripping onto your waist as you turn towards him in curiosity. Your eyelids are heavy, another wave of exhaustion coming over you.

"For the little ones." Simon responds.

He says it on a breath. He says it so plainly, so effortlessly, that tears immediately well in your eyes. He's never responded to your questions about children– usually shutting down or ignoring the topic wholly. Your lip wobbles, and he runs his thumb over the cracked skin.

"Ch-children?" You ask, a new sense of hope filling your being. A new reason to fight– to get clean. Children. A family.

"A girl, with your eyes…" Simon chuckles, "Probably with your attitude too."

You laugh at that, tears slipping down your cheeks in landing on his hand that cups your face.

"Maybe a boy. Hopefully he gets your features n' not my ugly mug." Simon huffs.

"What changed…?" You ask, wincing as a wave of nausea pulses through your body. Simon's eyes go wide for a second, and his grip tightens on you, ready in an instant to carry you back into the bathroom if you need. The pain passes and you shake your head, signaling that you're okay. Immediately, he relaxes. It's quiet for a moment as Simon traces his thumb over your paper thin skin.

"A dog, a new house, babies, anything you want. I'll give you anything you want, just get better for me, baby." Simon pleads, a hint of vulnerability tracing his words. It's one of only a few times he's begged you.

"I don't want a future without you in it. I want my wife. I want our kids terrorizing the place, I want to get old and retire the Force with you. Hell, I'd turn in my letter of resignation today if you asked, just please, fight for me, love."

The tears are falling freely now, you don't try to stop them. Guilt fills your being at the realization of everything you've put your husband through for the past few months. Through it all, he's never left your side. He's still here. Kissing closed your wounds, and promising to plant flowers in their place.

A soft kiss is pressed to your forehead before amber eyes peek down at you through blonde eyelashes. You chew on your lip, a bad habit.

Your resolve is set, and even though your body shrieks for the opposite, you'll get through this. You have to.

You have Sunday mornings to look forward to, lazily pouring Simon a cup of tea in his favorite mug. You have a house to buy, with two bedrooms instead of one. Dragging Simon through the shops and picking out all the different onesies he'll let you bring home. You have walks through the park to go on. You have to pick up takeout on Simon's late nights at work. You have to sit on his desk while you share an entree and talk to him until he forgets about the paperwork he's supposed to be doing. So many little actions to go through, little memories to make. You can't give it up. You won't.

There is so much to fight for, so much to hope for, all given to you by the man before you. Tears sting your eyes again as you finally speak up.

"I promise you, Simon. I'll fight. For us, I will."

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon riley #cod x reader #cod x y/n #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #ghost call of duty #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw22 #cod mw x reader

396 notes · View notes

jazlynriddle-legacy · 5 months ago

Text

Let's Go, Together

Summary:

What if Anne arrived a little later in the catacombs? What if she didn’t see Sebastian kill Solomon? What if she wasn't overcome with rage, piled upon grief? You watch helplessly instead, as the twins go to meet fate, hand in hand.

Warnings: Death, major character death, angst, depression, suicide, bittersweet, tragedy. Like, my partner read this and went "this is some Romeo/Juliet-esque shit right here", seriously, don't read this unless you're ready for the possibility of crying.

You can also read on AO3!

Notes:

So, this is probably the shortest oneshot I've ever written, I'll explain in the notes where it came from, but this came out super damn smooth, like, bam, under two hours and barely any editing needed. Getting this out was like the smoothest diarrhoea ever, complete with painful cramping.

And, whoooo! It’s finally come, the day that my notes are actually longer than the fic itself. Aha ha ha… goddamnit. Though, I’ll admit that that’s because half the notes are me ranting about the argument that got this churned out to begin with. So, I apologise to anyone who came in thinking the fic is 5k words, half of that is notes and they wouldn't fit in the notes category. I'm sorry! OTL

Also, fuck me, I only have a week left before my deadline and the next chapter of It's My Own Design is still only half done- ToT Being in an argument makes it hard for me to regulate and get into my writing, it's already over but I'm still feeling its effects... sigh hopefully getting this out will make me feel better...

You watch as the wand falls from Sebastian's fingers, he's staring at his hand like it's betrayed him. You're about to speak, to ask him what the ever-loving fuck. When the Inferi nearby swipe at you and you can't simply continue watching his stunned form.

“Sebastian, look out!” You shout, casting Incendio at the Inferi around you, the flames licking across the hems of your robes. “Snap out of it!”

This isn't the time to be horrified. Not yet, anyway. Not while the living dead continue to attack, uncaring of the absolute shit show of a disaster that has taken place here.

You spare a moment to cast a Confringo at one of the skeletons coming up behind Sebastian, but he takes a blow from another, which jostles him from his stupor, and he finally seems aware of his surroundings again. You kick his wand to him, Inferi first, you can slap him later.

He quickly scoops up his wand and resumes fighting. Without Solomon attacking you alongside the Inferi, without Sebastian being distracted trying to solo Solomon, the two of you sweep up the remaining Inferi with your usual efficiency and teamwork.

All too soon, the cavern is quiet once more, save the panting from you and he. Charred bones litter the floor, covering almost every square inch, but you have no interest in them, because Sebastian has gone still, staring at his uncle's body once again.

“Sebastian... what have you done...” You breathe, you don't know what to do, how to react, nothing could have prepared you for this. For him to do this.

Sure, Solomon had been coming at you with terrifying anger, even hung you in the air and petrified you - as the Inferi slashed at you - threw Confringos at you, ignored your pleas for him to stop, to stop making things worse. But this... the Killing Curse, you're not sure whether Sebastian was trying to protect you or just taking his anger towards Solomon too far.

Maybe it was both? You pray it was both. His outburst on the mountain still feels uncomfortable, even if he apologised for it. If you pissed him off enough, would he kill you too? You watch Sebastian sink to his knees by his uncle's body, reaching out with shaky fingers to touch the hardening skin.

“U- uncle?” He murmurs faintly, and you know the answer. He wouldn’t have. Sebastian is just as shaken by his actions as you are.

You have to mean it.

You swallow, yeah, you'd meant it too, when you threatened to abandon Sebastian, when he was being a prick on the mountain. Didn't mean you wouldn't have felt awful about it afterwards, if he made you feel like you had to, if he pushed you into that corner. Didn't mean you wouldn't hate the consequences, didn't mean you wouldn't miss having your friend by your side, as you fought against Ranrok. Alone.

You take a step towards him, but you don't know what to say, and the sound seems to jostle him from his daze.

“In- inferi.” Sebastian mutters, pushing himself to his feet unsteadily and taking several steps back, turning away from the body with a hand over his mouth. He looks like he's seconds from vomiting. “We- we can say the Inferi did- did- this.”

“Sebastian...” You frown, he's doing it again, closing his feelings off and trying to think with his brain alone.

“Please-” He gasps, knowing that you're about to... actually, you're not sure what you're about to say or do, but whatever it is, you don't get to.

“Sebastian?” Anne's voice reaches your ears, and both you and Sebastian stare at the doorway, in varying degrees of horror.

“A- Anne-” Sebastian moves, as though wanting to cover Solomon's body from her view, even though he must know he cannot possibly do so in time.

You see her expression change the moment she spots Solomon. With wide eyes, she staggers towards him, slowly at first, disbelief on her face, and then she's running, stumbling and falling mere steps away. Sebastian quickly darts forward to catch her, but she throws his arms off and collapses to the floor, dragging herself across the stone to kneel by Solomon's cold corpse.

“No- no no no- Uncle?” Anne touches Solomon's face frantically. “Please, uncle-”

“He's- he's gone.” Sebastian pleads, practically begging her to stop. To stop making him regret what he's done. “Anne-”

“Why- how-” Anne gasps, tears spilling from her eyes in rivers as she clings to the man's body.

“I- Inferi- they- they got him.” Sebastian answers, giving you an entreating stare, like you were a deity that he was praying to for salvation.

You are at a loss for words, there hasn't been enough time for you to decide if you will go along with his lie. And it is a lie, an outright lie. He's told many half-truths, used misleading language and implied things that weren't true, kept secrets - just as you have - but this is his first baldfaced lie.

“Why-” Anne continues before you can decide, turning to look at Sebastian. “Why did you do this? Any of this...”

“I-” Sebastian stammers, you've never seen him so speechless.

“I'm not worth this.” Anne sobs and Sebastian immediately kneels, grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her.

“You are!” He declares, it sounds like a demand and a plea in one, and he's crying now too, more desperately than you ever imagined the cocky boy could. “You are! I- please, Anne, I can't live without you.”

He touches her face gently, tenderly, despair dripping from every word. “You can't say that. I- I need you. You are worth it. You... you have to be.”

He's hanging off her shoulders now, sobbing harder than even she had been, and she watches him with empty eyes.

Defeated, resignation in the slump of her shoulders, in the flatness of her expression. It hurts to watch.

She slowly raises her hand to touch his wet cheek, speaking gently. “You need to let me die.”

“No!” Sebastian practically screams, grabbing his head between his hands and you instinctively raise your wand. He's going completely off the rails, and you're worried about what could happen, what he might do, but he only continues wailing. “I can't, I need you! Anne, I can't live without you! Don't leave me, please, please stay, just- just stay... I'll do anything...”

He grasps her hand, gazing into her face, his eyes red and frenzied, and she swallows, before closing her eyes in acceptance and sorrow.

“I know... but I can't.” Anne whispers, and before his face can harden into anger, she touches his cheek with a sad smile. “So... let's go. Together.”

His entire body freezes, and you freeze too. Surely, she can't be suggesting-

“I can't- I can't let you hurt anyone else, but I understand now.” Anne gives a bitter laugh. “I was wrong to think I could just... set you free.”

He chokes on a sob, placing his hand over hers.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Sebastian. It's okay.” She smiles beseechingly. “I know you don't mean to, and you would hurt too, wouldn't you? If anyone else gets hurt. If Ominis or...”

Anne gives you a glance and you jolt in place. She was serious!?

Incredulous, your eyes flicker to Sebastian, who is also staring at you now. He's wearing a complicated expression, and you're not sure which you see, fear, relief or regret. Perhaps it's all of the above.

Your heart clenches, was that why he didn't tell you when he was going to test the relic? Because he didn't want you or Ominis getting hurt if it went wrong? Because he wasn't willing to sacrifice anyone beyond himself? Was that why he seemed so eager to show you that he'd mastered the relic without a sacrifice?

Was that why his control over the relic hadn't been complete? He was so clever, it would be Sebastian who'd manage to make the relic work halfway, without even paying the price for its services.

Anne turns back to Sebastian, her voice firm. “So, come with me. I won't leave you behind to suffer.”

He returns his gaze to her, eyes wide - like a lost child - and she presses a kiss to his forehead. “We can find a quiet peaceful place, we'll spend our last days there, and then we can go. Together.”

Stop. You want to say, you want to step forward, to stop this madness, but something holds you in place. Is it shock? Is it fear? Is it because... you can't see any other option either?

Sebastian stares into her eyes, and you watch. It's like watching the most beautiful, serene, and tranquil... horror play, enacted before your very eyes. A small smile of relief spreads across Sebastian's face, and he nods.

Anne leans forward to press their foreheads together and the twins close their eyes.

“Born together...” Sebastian whispers, like a prayer.

“Live together...” Anne's smile and voice are tight and watery.

“Die together.” Sebastian breathes and something in you snaps.

“Wai-” You step forward, the word barely out of your mouth, as the kneeling twins and Solomon's body vanish with the crack of apparition, and you shout. “No!”

But the cavern is empty now, nothing but you in a sea of bones, as your shout echoes down the hollow tunnels.

You stand in shock for several moments, before panic sets in and you scramble for the doors, bones clattering loudly as you kick them out of the way. You barely manage to reach the exit without stepping on a fibula and twisting yours.

The cold evening air hits your face when you emerge from the catacomb. It's bracing, but you have no time to enjoy the fresh breeze.

With a single deep breath, you take off towards Feldcroft at a sprint, if they leave the village, you don't know where they might go. You're desperate to stop them, wishing you could apparate too. You barrel through bushes, leap over rocks, stumble as you run.

The dimly lit hillside stretches out before you, and it was only a matter of time before you tripped over something. The dirt hurts, grains lodging themselves under your fingernails, but you push yourself up with trembling arms and throw yourself forward again.

The sound of them disapparating replays in your ears on repeat. The blissful smile on Sebastian's face, the peace on Anne's, flashing through your mind.

Tears bead in your eyes, and you pray to any celestial being listening that that will not be your last image of them. You feel like the pain in your chest may never fade if it is.

You're out of breath when you arrive at the Sallow residence, and you cast your gaze about frantically, hoping to see them, but all you find is Ominis, leaning against the rock fence behind the cottage. The blind boy is bathed in the last rays of the setting sun, staring distantly with something clutched in his hand, and you rush over.

“Ominis! Have you seen Anne and Sebastian!?” You gasp out without much thought, before your eyes settle on what seems to be a freshly dug mound on the ground near him, and a tombstone that reads ‘Solomon Sallow’. A sinking feeling bears down on your shoulders, settling heavy in your gut.

A bitter, hysterical laugh, almost painful in its grief, rips from Ominis’ throat. “No... but they- goodbye... they said goodbye.”

His cheeks bear streaks of tears and he whispers brokenly. “I- I couldn't stop them...”

No pit in your stomach has ever hurt this much, you cover your mouth and stumble to the side, catching yourself on the same fence. You want to vomit, your heart hurts, they hadn’t even said goodbye to you.

“Sebastian- Sebastian gave me this...” Ominis murmurs, holding out the item in his hand, a rolled-up note. “For you-”

His words choke in his throat, and you take the parchment with trembling fingers, you feel like the same lump is in your throat, as you unroll it to read.

I'm sorry, I wish I could say goodbye to you. But I know you wouldn't let me go. So, this must suffice. Our time together has been short, but I have cherished every moment, and you will always have my gratitude for being by my side.

I have no right to ask anything of you. After everything, you would be well within your rights to hate me. You and Ominis believed in me, and I let you both down.

But please, please take care of Ominis for me? And for Anne. Don't let him be alone. I don't want him to follow us. You know how to talk to him, better than I ever did. Be there for him, like you were for me.

Please. Humour my selfishness, just one last time.

Your friend, Sebastian Sallow

P.S. Help me burn Salazar's journal too. I no longer need it, and Ominis was right. I did end up regretting it.

Your knees hit the floor and your fist slams against stone. Pain shoots up your arm, but it doesn't compare to the pain in your heart. That fucking prick. That selfish - selfless - fucking idiot.

You hear a sob leave Ominis and he slides down to sit beside you, his expression is the most broken you've ever seen. More than in the Scriptorium, where he'd seemed more afraid than anything else. Now, he looks as though a stiff breeze could rip him apart.

You lean into him and wrap your arms around him, letting him cry into your shoulder, as you do his. Taking comfort from each other, and mourning the tragic twins who'd come to mean so much to the two of you. Those two bright souls, searing in their intensity - in their love - burning everything they touched, and then burning out like a wisp on the wind.

Alright. Alright, Sebastian. I'll try my best.

You never see them again, but you can't forget how powerful and beautiful love can be, and how painful a curse it can also be.

Maybe, hopefully, they are finally at peace.

Together.

Notes:

I tried to write this from the perspective of the average player rather than my own, because I know there's a lot of people who didn't react the same way I did during the game, and I wanted to sort of guide the brain (of anyone who relates to this response), to the conclusions I came to after analysing the game.

The reason I have Sebastian willing to burn the book and express regret is because he buried Solomon himself this time, not Anne alone. So, he had more time to feel the weight of his actions, that's one of the things I find frustrating, I've seen people go “Sebastian didn't say he regrets it until we threatened to turn him in” and I'm like, yeah, because he didn't get to face what he'd done, Anne's intervention allowed him to look away from what he'd done and distract himself. To wrap himself in the blanket of his righteousness. Thus, it was only when the social consequence became undeniable, when his actions irrevocably damaged his bond with Anne, that he was forced to face it.

For example, if a kid was recklessly grabbing a cup and it spilled everywhere, the correct thing to do is tell them that they should be more careful next time and then have the kid clean it (with your guidance, of course). The wrong things to do are; scold the child with “what's wrong with you, you are so impatient, look what you've done, you stupid kid”, or shoo the kid away and clean it yourself. One is hurtful, and the other doesn't teach the kid to take responsibility and give them a means of repenting and fixing the mistake.

Solomon repeatedly does BOTH those wrong things every single time we see him interact with Sebastian!

One of the arguments (for Sebastian being evil) that I hate the most is the, “you have to mean it, so Sebastian meant to Avada Solomon, and meant to cast the Cruciatus, he eeeevil.” Like, really? You've never done something that you were sure of in the moment and then regretted later? Seriously? Never said something hurtful, kicked a chair, broke a pencil, threw a tantrum? You sure meant it then, does that mean you can't regret it? Does that mean it didn't hurt to do it? Come on.

I was recently in an argument with someone who tried to tell me that mistakes aren't choices, saying that, “tripping on a rock, or dropping a cup is a mistake. Sebastian made a choice, not a mistake”. I'm just like, you're describing an accident, if you drop a cup, that's by accident. Mistakes are wrong/misguided choices, choices you regret, choices you want to take back. It's in the damn dictionary!

People make mistakes when under extreme stress. Case in point, Ominis. Cruciatus, big oof, 100% not his fault, but he did mean it. I just think that anyone who judges Sebastian but says Ominis is an angel doesn't understand that torture isn't always ripping off fingernails or stabbing eyeballs. The type of torture Sebastian was experiencing was equally as cruel as Ominis got from his family. Just because Sebastian's torturer is reality itself (plus his uncle salting the wound), doesn't make it any less painful or devastating.

Another one is, “Sebastian manipulated MC into helping him and lied about his goals.” Like, when? Sure, he's been evasive, he's lied by omission, been misleading, but those were always in order to advance steps on the way to the goal, his goal was very plain from the beginning and never changes. “Cure Anne. Consequences? Who cares? If she dies, I might as well die too, then nothing matters.” That's why he's so reckless, it's despair and depression. Like, Sebastian could be an unreliable narrator regarding the way Solomon treats him, but he didn’t need to do shit to make me disapprove of Solomon’s behaviour, the man earned that on his own.

You can even say that this is the exact scenario that the Ominis in my other fic, Heavy Is The Crown, was so terrified of. Sebastian just doesn't have much to live for besides Anne and Ominis.

I will admit though, that Anne's maturity and balls have been cranked up a tad for this fic, she's more insightful and willing to face Sebastian's desperation rather than running away from the reality that, whether she likes it or not, even if it's not her fault, her death will ruin him, and she can choose to do something about it, or leave him to drown without her.

In this ending, she gives Sebastian relief, she offers him permission to stop. To give up, to stop trying, to stop fighting, to stop swimming against the current, to let it carry him down the stream, shatter his body against the rocks and obediently sink to the bottom. Permission to stop acting strong, to stop trying to convince others and himself that he's strong enough to carry a dying girl on that tiny 15-year-old back. It's a relief, it's freedom, it's her saying he can say, “I've done enough.” and she won't be disappointed that he can't move on, she's accepted it.

I actually believe in euthanasia, as it is done in the Netherlands, there's just so many things that are worse than death. The person I argued with tried to convince me that murder is the greatest sin, and I'm like, I can list a million things I'd rather be murdered, than be inflicted with, you lucky sweet summer child. I congratulated them on never having reached Sebastian's desperation and they seemed to be offended, but I meant it. I would love to believe that murder is the worst sin.

Then again, this person I was arguing with also said they'd rather lock up and punish someone who regrets and is ready to repent, than for anyone to “get away with it”.

I think it's also frustrating that some people seem to think that Sebastian doesn't care about Ominis because he keeps throwing us at Ominis, but I think he's hurt that Ominis listens to a stranger over him. It's because Sebastian cares about Ominis more than his own pride, that Sebastian says “you know what, I can't figure out what Ominis needs, but I want him to get it. So, if you can do it, please, even if it hurts me to ask you to do something I wish I could do. Talk to him for me because I don't know how to do it without hurting him.”

In the game, Sebastian shows signs of being bitter about not being able to communicate properly with Ominis, and it's one of the reasons he's ready to die with Anne in this fic. Sebastian doesn't feel needed by Ominis, Sebastian mistakenly thinks that Ominis is angry that “being friends with Sebastian” means that Ominis still has to think about Dark Arts. Sebastian doesn't have a reason to stay.

And that's why I prefer legalised euthanasia, going through multiple doctors, years of evaluations, lawyers and hoops before being approved and being able to back out any time. It's better than suicide since there's professionals to make sure that you've tried every option. Without legal euthanasia, people are more likely to attempt suicide alone, and when it's based off misinformation, like Sebastian's mistaken belief that he isn't needed.

In Heavy Is The Crown, Ominis gets his head out of his ass and takes action to prevent Sebastian from falling to suicide, but in this alternate path, Ominis continues his modus operandi of just feeling sorry for himself when something he doesn't want to happen happens. Which, obviously is NOT his fault. That's his default modus operandi because of his abuse and disempowerment in his home and school, because his family influence is so broad.

Also, um, I feel like I should just say, you're welcome to interpret Sebastian and Anne's love in this fic however you wish, but I personally did not write it with incestual romance in mind. Just... making that clear. The Reader/Ominis is a bit more intentional and I do think of this as a bit of pre-ship between Ominis and MC, but you can also see that as platonic, of course!

I'm just gonna rant about the person I was arguing with for a bit. You can skip this, but if you want to know where this fic came from, feel free to read the painful experience that led to it.

One of the most horrifying things that person said was “if a woman who had been assaulted and became afraid of men afterwards or if someone had a bad experience with a black person, and retaliated against the next black person who approached them aggressively, they should be blamed for choosing to react violently.” Like, I'll grant that these people with bias resulting from bad experiences should not be in charge of making laws and they need therapy, but blame them for a fear response? Wtf-

I begged them to try to understand why people make mistakes or overreact and take their experiences into account and have compassion, if they want to prevent tragedies and treat the root of problems, and they said I was insulting them as uncompassionate. They pulled a “I've suffered too, but I didn't become a murderer” line too, why do they always pull that one? Just because you can, doesn't mean everyone else can! We are not all equal in experience, support, background, and physical/chemical make up!

I pointed out their misquotes of lines that weren't in the game, like, they said Anne said the “Inferi were heading to the town”, which... no, Anne calls Feldcroft a hamlet, not a town and that line just doesn't exist! And they said Ominis approved of Anne getting Solomon and said, “I completely forgot, Anne's going to get Solomon.” but what he actually said was “I was so worried about Sebastian. I didn't even realise - Anne's gone to get Solomon.” Completely different meaning! I was like “please play the game again, you're hallucinating” and they called that an ad hominem.

They said there's a special Rehab Azkaban for minors that has no dementors (since when!?) where kids get to leave unharmed (That's some amazing Just World Fallacy, this is a country with slavery, legal racism and no lawyers!), right after saying that Sebastian would be an adult at almost-16 during that time, so this mythical minor-rehab-Azkaban wouldn't take Sebastian anyway! They even say Inferi can't leave their gravesite without being controlled, and then, that Sebastian failed to control the Inferi contradicting their assertion that Inferi were heading to the hamlet. And then they say I'm insulting them by saying they're being contradictory and illogical. Oh, and when I pointed that out, they said the relic was controlling the Inferi not Sebastian, like, controlling them to do what!? By that logic, I can say the gun killed that guy, not me. Wtf-

Then they said it's dangerous and unhealthy to draw conclusions about someone based on how they interact with a fictional character, (even though they said they would rather lock away anyone who isn't “sufficiently repentant” irl too, which sounds good until you realise that they don't think Sebastian was repentant) and that fictional topics should stay in fiction. Like, wtf, fiction is meant to allow us to share and simulate situations, explore, and practice emotions safely so we can learn from the experience and grow as a person, and face reality wiser. I feel like this person would say Star Trek isn't political and shouldn't be compared to real world politics.

God, that was such an awful conversation, they picked a fight with me over a 2 year old thread, refused to leave me alone when I said I'd rather not fight and continued spamming me, said I'm an unpleasant person to converse with (then leave me alone, Jesus), then they accused me of liking my own posts too, and when I went and liked some to show that the 1 like wasn't myself, because, look, I liked it and it's now 2, they said that's evidence that I... was indeed liking my own posts. Like wtf? They say I'm a bad debater, and yeah. You're right, I'm not here to debate. I'm a teacher. So, if you insist on bothering me, what you get is a lecture!

And then two other people came in to pile on me, calling me nasty, an awful person and insufferable without telling me what I've done that is so “nasty”, and refusing to answer when I asked how they would rather I phrase my replies. At least when I say someone is awful, I say why, and it's pretty much only when someone tells me they want to make already suffering people suffer more. Those supporters said they didn't see any wrong quotes or wrong info from the person I argued with, and I am so confused. I feel like I'm the crazy one. What is going on, how can you two agree with this person when they are concerningly saying a 15-year-old is old enough to be treated like an adult!? Then they say I’m rude for saying that has concerning implications of the paedophilic kind. Sorry, but that's where your double standard logically leads.

Then they started mocking my "books" and laughing with each other, yeesh, what is this comically middle school bullying of the nerdy autistic kid shit? And mate, if you think 1k words make a book, I have bad news for you.

Look, we raised the age of adulthood for a reason! We have juvenile court for a reason! We raised the minimum working age for a reason! Children do not yearn for the mines! We abolished “guilty until proven innocent” for a reason! We take dangerous things/info out of reach of kids, not keep them in the easily broken-into Restricted Section! We don't just judge radicalised kids and lock them up in a torture chamber with dementors, we figure out how it happened and understand it, to prevent it from happening again. We rehabilitate them and offer them compassion, dignity and support. Hell, it's usually depression causing the problems and you want to throw the kid in depression central? Even if you think there's a non-Azkaban rehab, mental hospitals in the 1890s were also torture chambers!

Who decides who is unsaveable and who isn't!? Who is repentant and who isn't!? This person decided on their own that Sebastian will 100% kill again, when the person he killed in the heat of battle- when Solomon attacked Sebastian emotionally for years and then physically. They even said that Sebastian blamed Anne for leaving him when Sebastian explicitly said, “I can't blame her. I couldn't really blame any of you if you gave up on me entirely. You all believed in me. And I let you all down.”

I tried so hard to get them to realise that there was nothing Sebastian could have done to convince them he'd changed and was worthy of a second chance, that they'd already judged him, closed the possibility in their mind and given him a task that was impossible, because they'd already decided that he was unsaveable. That they are more fixated on punishment than reform. That they simply want justice without compassion.

They gave him an exam with a pass grade of 130/100. He has no chance and that's not fair. (Which ironically, was the same thing they did to me with the "likes" thing, they seemed to think I was pissed about that because I cared about... honestly, I don't know, I don't see what the point of that would have been, but the thing that actually pissed me off was that there was no way to convince them that I didn't like my own replies. Even though I have zero reason to do such a thing and have proven it by actively using my one like to bring it to 2.)

But they literally went, “I'm done reading your essays, I'm right and you're wrong.” I can never get over how painful that is, to face a person who slams the door in my face after I spent so much effort trying to reach them sincerely and honestly. Called insufferable because I refuse to bend my principles, my belief that everyone deserves mercy and a second chance. I plead for kindness, and they get angry instead and say I'm, “nauseatingly full of yourself” and “talking down on people”.

I'm on my knees bro- I'm not talking down on you, I am begging you, for the people around you, the children you say you are in charge of caring for. You don't know how painful it is to not be believed when you are trying to change. When you know you've made a mistake you can't take back, and you want to repent and make up for it, but nobody believes you or gives you the chance to. To be accused of crocodile tears or purposely fucking up or not trying.

To just be punished, made an example of, and hung out to dry as a child. To be given up on, betrayed by those you thought you could count on. To realise your best was never enough, could never have been enough. That you were doomed to fail from the start, and nobody cares that that was your best.

I know those people wouldn't even read this, but you who are reading please understand that, in the face of all that…

Death is preferable.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #anne sallow #ominis x mc #gender neutral mc #x reader #reader insert #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #fanfic #Jazlr Let's Go Together #jazlr

18 notes · View notes

doctorho · 2 months ago

Note

Hello hi hope you’re doing well hehehe IFFFFFF you ever did wanna write for Jayce I nad an idea.....l've seen posts about people wanting more fics of a more buff fem reader LIKE HELL YEAH (Cuz | workout) and l just love the idea of Jayce being into a buff girl (or guy) (or gn because I know you write a lot of gn stuff!!) cuz we know this man is such a sub sometimes and I know he'd get so so flustered if he saw you working out. He'd definitely wanna feel you flex in his hand and maybe workout with you but he might combust if you ever asked him to join you. Even if you're shorter than him he'd feel so shy around you and he'd just be so CUTSEY and blah I just want a large muscular man to fall at my feet is that too much to ask for?

sorry it took me Literally Forever to get to this, but... yeah.

look, jayce got his muscles mostly from working at the forges (and... genetics, i guess), and logically, he knew that people who were muscular typically did something to get or at least maintain those muscles, and subsequently were able to do some work that required muscles, he knew that. he just hadn't, you know. considered it. before. in his head. he hadn't thought about it.

so he was not prepared to see you hauling some goddamn ten-feet-long steel beams around the lab like it was nothing. he has to wait for the cogs in his brain to do a full circle as he registers this, takes in the sight of your disgarded jacket and the fucking muscles rippling under your skin as you lifted another one of those beams up on one shoulder, already turning to apparently carry them on to the storage.

the beams are visibly heavy, heavy enough to slowly bend at the ends just a little under their own gravity, and then slowly waver with your movement as you straighten your stance. and you do it with the damn ease of lifting the coffee pot, just, you know, casually hauling these goddamn steel beams around for him, no big deal, just some light work around the lab.

those beams probably weighed like a good percentage of how much he did. and you're just! picking one up! and throwing it around! god, you don't even look like it's hard.

and he's just standing there, gathering the remains of his brains from the gutter.

"Viktor said these need to be moved," you tell him as a way of explanation over your shoulder.

"What?" he asks, with all of one brain cell sparking to life.

you smile at him over the beam, and oh, that should be illegal. "These were delivered today, Viktor said they should be in there," you explain, nodding towards the open door.

Jayce opens his mouth. and then closes it.

"Ah." he says. "Yes."

the pinnacle of thought, he thinks with an internal sigh, ladies and gentlemen, jayce talis, genius of the people. whose brain turns to mush at the sight of-

power.

well, can you blame him?

gods, it's not as if it's a leap to go from 'this person is attractive and demonstrates enough skill and strength and muscle control -because that was the difficult part, wasn't it, control- that they could probably throw you around like a sack of potatoes' to 'i think i would enjoy that' because-

he can hear you place down the steel beam with a clang that sounds like it wasn't the first of many.

and then you re-emerge from the storage room dusting off your hands against each other, cleaning them of what he could imagine to be metallic dust and leftover packaging fibres from the beams.

something in jayce, unfairly, purrs at the sight. curls into itself at the pit of his stomach. paws at him from there, tugging at the base of his spine.

he decides to ignore this as best as he can, and instead, takes a breath. "let me help you," he says, then shakes his head a little, "this isn't even your job in the first place."

you just shrug with a grin, and help him pick up one of the beams as he hauls it up on his shoulder. it was heavy, and, annoyingly, his brain decides to use this to cement his earlier hypothesis about your strength.

he hadn't thought you weak before, not by any means, he just... hadn't seen you in action, so to speak.

he takes a deep breath. steels his core, lifts with his legs.

"I just wanted to help," you answer, "besides, i could use the workout."

Jayce exhales a laugh, before composing himself again. "alright," he shrugs off the beam and places it on the pile of others, and you soon follow.

as you place down your own beam, he helps. it's easier to balance it with two pairs of hands, and the sound of it hitting the pile is softer this time.

he can see some oil stains on your shirt where the beams had rested against your shoulder, and a part of him winces at it. that'd be difficult to get out. the oil their metal parts usually came coated in was.

you're just straightening your shirt and smiling at him. like you're at home in their stupid storage room, helping him with this like it's a given. he didn't even ask.

"still," he says, taking a deep breath and trying to gather his brain into something in semblance of reasonable, "thank you." he exhales, and means it. "let me make it up to you," he continues, and he means that, too.

"do you want to like," he says, his words suddenly feeling sticky and stupid and too big for his mouth, "get coffee or something?" he exhales, then, "my treat," he adds, before he can even inhale.

you grin at him, and dust off your hands again, and oh, his spine is liquefying. cool. nice. great. he wanted to be a puddle anyway.

#yeah idk i don't think i have a gym fic in me so have whatever this is #(shrug emoji)#fic talk #asks #jayce talis x reader #jayce talis fic #whoo!#honestly i didn't think i had a very good grasp of jayce's character but for the purposes of this writing exercise he is now. ya know.#Like This. amen #anyway here you go i did not proofread this because i am lazy and i just wanted to get this out of my system #thank you for the tasty concept i think there could be more to this #because like....#jayce truly turning into goo in front of you? yeah. here for that #this was just. a lil teeny taste of that

18 notes · View notes

realization-time · 8 days ago

Note

hi (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠)..

I've never done this before so please excuse my awkwardness lol. I read Disarm and there is time to kill today and I've never been hit with inspiration so hard. I hope you like it (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠) I LOVE your fics so damn much ♥️♥️♥️

I have to apologize sincerely for my late response because the truth is I was absolutely and completely put out of commission for days because of how touching this art is. I cannot begin to explain to you the way this made me weep like a baby. I’m so serious. Just piercing and wholly, wholly profound. First of all, thank you, thank you, thank you.

Second of all, please picture the way I astral-projected out of my everloving skin because the first thing I noticed about this piece was THE ROYAL SCAM POSE???????????

You get it. YOU get it. Oh this makes me so happy! I’m so glad you are spreading this Ace Attorney/Steely Dan agenda with me and I mean that with my whole heart because Steely Dan is my favorite band of all time. Gregory Edgeworth was truly bestowed the highest form of honor I could ever give a character when I let SD be his favorite in that fic, too. Just look at him. Him and his Atticus Finch-reincarnated self! Him and his “I almost started dancing along!” self! That man is a Danfan! Anyway, like I said in the footnote to “Disarm”, I’ve always thought “Don’t Take Me Alive” was the most Miles Edgeworth song ever but the ALBUM COVER too! I had its image blown up and projected in my head the entire time I wrote “Disarm” and I genuinely feel like you’ve read my mind by putting him in that pose. I’ve always, always thought it was so him and his nightmares. I so adore seeing him Steely Dan-ified. Ah! It’s perfect! :D :D :D :D

And oh…the detail…the detail. I enjoy rich detail like it’s nobody’s business, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for being so attentive to all the details I put down in that piece. From the red and green imagery to the lobotomy tools, to the napkins and wrappers and spoons and forks, the ants, the cherry stems, the green nightlight, the drawing from the booklet on the wall, the four mourning doves, the FIFTH robin (absolutely broke me), the fucking six on the elevator…I remember putting that last one in “there is time to kill today”. As an aside, I hope you weren’t jarred by how different the writing styles in those two pieces are. I went through major metamorphosis in those years I wasn’t writing Ace Attorney.

Just like I said in the footnote to “Disarm”, I feel like I can’t look at this and not comment on how very personal it is to my life and experiences, too. Probably 50% of that fic really did happen and 100% of it came from a very real place of mental anguish and just…hurt, in general. Insane hurt. The wrapper hoarding in particular is what I keep coming back to in your art, and in my mind, too. I didn’t know that that was one of my first brushes with OCD for a very, very long time. I honestly don’t even think I put it together until very recently, and this happened all the way back in childhood. It really means everything to see it represented so perfectly in your art. It’s honestly a little beyond words, and that’s coming from the guy who loves words and the power that words hold more than life itself. This might be the first time in my adulthood that I feel like I can’t quite articulate myself fully through written word. That’s how much your art has touched me. It’s quite something to see my childhood and adulthood come together so beautifully and perfectly and in such a raw manner in this piece you’ve created. Thank you, truly.

I’m so happy in general that I could inspire you! You don’t know how much that means to me. If I have inspired someone to create art of their own, then my work is done. I hope you will continue to create because your work is incredibly, incredibly talented and deserves to be celebrated, and I’m so grateful to be able to share it with you! Again, thank you, thank you, thank you. I know I’ll cherish this piece for the rest of my life. I really mean that.

I’m so glad we could share this fic together. At the end of the day, I think I’m always just trying to relate to the world at large with what I write, so I’m really, truly touched that it resonated with you so much. Again, thank you so, so very much. From the bottom of my heart. I can’t say it enough. Take care and be well.

❤️💚❤️💚

#ask #favorite #cried the entire way through writing this if we’re honest #:’) 🫶🫶

4 notes · View notes

incorrecttheconjuringquotes · 4 months ago

Text

Little Snippet: Protect

Even when they were young they both would try their best in whatever way they could to ensure the other is safe/happy. It starts when they first meet (i'm using my fic for that part).

Anyway, Lorraine tries to distance herself from Ed early on. She doesn't want him to have to deal with being an outcast and even worse, hated. She couldn't bare that life for him and she definitely couldn't be the one to cause it.

She started walking home from school alone two days ago. The first day he'd been confused when she wasn't by the gate. Confused, worried, and then he'd seen her up ahead. He told himself her mom must have needed her. Today he had made sure to leave his class early, making it to the gate in time to see a rushing Lorraine. Well. She was rushing until she saw him. At her pause in step he feels his heart lurch. As much as he wants to be there for her like he's always sworn, he never wants to be the cause of the anxiety in her eyes.

A nod to himself, a half-tipped smile, eyes making their way to the sun-filled sky.

With a small grin, Lorraine will always bring him a grin, he leans down. A small flower growing in the grass plucked firmly in his fingers. Five feet and the shadows in Lorraine's eyes may separate them now, but he'll be there with her soon. Fighting the good fight. By her side. As it should be.

She walks home, he makes sure to call when she gets home just to be sure. She does the same when he would usually be home from his shift.

Lorraine hates herself a bit. Loves herself just the same. Something in this world brought them together, something in the world let her love him with all her heart. And with that love, she knows she needs to let him go. It's a lonely life for a reason.

Ed's neighbors are throwing a party. Maybe he'd have found himself there if things we different. If the haunted look in Lorraine's eye wasn't displayed painful behind his eyelids.

As it is he busies himself in the garage. A few things to tinker with have found there way there from some rummage sale. He thinks to much so he tinkers. He feels too much so he tinkers. He loves too much so he tinkers.

Ed's not handling this well, not if the spray of WD-40 that lands itself far too close to his eyes. A breath. A blink. A "damn."

He shoves the garage open to get some of the fumes out.

People walk across his driveway as they make their way to the neighbors'. He knows them from class, can count out the cruel ones, can count out his fellow art dorks. Wishes in some twisted weird reality that he'd be able to see Lorraine walking up.

The small flare of hope and it's instant cyclical death must have mixed with the song wafting from the radio, that's the only way he can explain it. He's in Greg's house in only a few moments, hands still somewhat stained with oil. Ed's plan is simple. Grab a few drinks, head back to the garage. Easy.

What's not easy?

Hearing John's voice coming ever closer. He swore he'd never throw the first punch. God will forgive him.

Instead, he pops open one of the bottles bringing it to his lips for a large drag.

"I see you don't have Lunatic Lorraine with you." John comes in to view, a smug smile on his face, "Finally learn what we all kno-"

God will forgive him. And honestly, right now, he could give a damn if God does or not.

It's a quick brawl. Nothing too dramatic for this county and this age. Unfortunately, that also means the police with little else to do are quick on site. Taking statements, writing things down.

They call him, "Crazy just like his girlfriend."

He shakes his head, wrapping his hand as he awaits his repercussions.

Two boots come into his view, raising his eyes he see's the officer. He instantly wishes he had at least gotten a few more punches for this punishment. It really doesn't matter if God forgives him now. No. What matters is if Lorraine's father forgives him. God damnnit, it's just his luck to get his ride to the station from her father.

No cuffs are involved thankfully. He does find himself nervously in the back of a police car both trying to disappear and will her father to understand.

"Sir, I," Ed's voice shakes, "I know what this looks-"

A gruff throat clear.

"It was that Walters kid, wasn't it?" He grumbles throwing his notebook into the seat beside him as he drives, "John."

"Yes." A sigh

"We're just going to take a drive so we can say you cooled off." He says, "No chargers were requested."

He can't bring himself to think of what this could mean. Would her dad think he was violent? Would he disapprove? Would-

"I just want you to know, Sir. I would never do anything to hurt Lorraine." He breaths, holding her dad's eye in the review mirror, "You know that asshole. I know you've wanted to punch him too."

A sigh.

"True, son." He admits, a laugh peaking through, "Was it a good punch?"

"Depends," Ed says as his stomach seems to loosen, "are you asking as an officer or as Lorraine's dad?"

"As the founder of the protect Lorraine club."

A shared smirk of understanding.

"It was a touchdown of a punch."

"Atta boy. I knew Lorraine chose well."

Lorraine.

His eyes burn.

"How, uh, how is she?"

"Why don't you find out yourself?"

The car's lights cut through the dark night lighting up the steps to the family's front door. The light on Lorraine's room dim.

"Well, go on, kid." He says, unlocking the back, "It's not every day I bring a jailbird to my daughter."

"It better not be."

#the conjuring universe #ed warren #incorrect the conjuring quotes #lorraine warren #incorrect quotes #the conjuring #ed x lorraine #lorraine x ed #young ed #young lorraine

6 notes · View notes

dino--draws · 10 months ago

Text

HIGHLIGHTS FROM THE NEARLY TWO HOUR ADMONITION + EXTRAS POWER POINT

I recorded it and me and my friends do wanna edit it and be silly w/ it so you may actually get to hear the presentation [and if you want the presentation itself just shoot me a dm on discord or smth] at some point but!

"Enter this freak! [image of McDoctorate]" "he looks like weird al.............."

"whats this guys name?" "FUNNY YOU ASK THAT [goes to slide that says 'whats this guys name?']"

"Damn! Sucks for Abbie, man I was invested." "I KNOW I WAS SO SAD SHE DIED." "This is a loss for women." "This was NOT a win for feminism."

"This is the REISNO Cannon!" "...thats a guy." "IGNORE THE GUY IGNORE THE GUY!"

"Failing to fulfil the causal loop causes a paradox. So let's cause a paradox! This is Dougall Deering, a bitchass motherfucker that nobody likes!"

"This is the significance of September 8th!" "...the queen......" "Queen Elizabeth died!! This isn't relevant!"

[Someone I do not know came in and sat down to listen for a bit]

"So you guys know Weirdmaggedon right?"

"And then the therapist dies and it all gets worse."

"So it'll come back, right? Right??? [long pause] There is no cannon." "Ha."

"So you may be wondering 'where the fuck did he go?' and now we finally get into Admonition."

"Because we can't use Narrative travel to jump genres we're writing the Fix-it Fic in the Hurt No Comfort AU. I don't know why I worded it like that in the slide." "That's my fault." "Nonono you're right there."

"They use it to terminate anomalies!!" "Not the ANTIKILL facility.........."

"It was all going dandy and functional until they did something stupid and hubris."

[Me calling the PH-GOS "the silly device"]

"Oh no! Who could've seen this coming!" cries the dumb fucks who should've realized this was an exercise in facility forty years ago."

[A second, new person appears to listen in]

"Say it with me now: YOU CAN'T KILL A LIZARD [several people do say it with me now]"

"Anti-idea???" "Yes, anti-idea."

"We're gonna PEMDAS the starfish!"

"Nice try guys, it didn't work but it wrote them a poem." "Awhhh,,"

"AND THEN THE UNIVERSE FUCKING ENDED!" "Oh it's over already?" "WOAAHHH"

"You may be wondering how the FUCK this is the first article in this series. Well you haven't seen NOTHIN' yet."

"I understand why this is making you insane." "Yeah no I get it."

"Is he [PHMD] a creative

"Director Johnathan King is fucking dead!" "Who??" "Don't worry about it he's not important." "He sounds like he is!" "The only thing you need to know is that he's dead."

"IS THAT JERMA?" "where?" "WHY IS JERMA THERE!" "THATS JERMA???" [me having to explain Jerma]

"Our budget took a hit! So we're gonna devote all resources to build this thing! For the budget!"

"Why are we doing this?" "Because we need to make a man un-die but no other necromancy is working."

"WHY IS HE A CAT??" "Don't worry about it." "These two don't have faceclaims to my knowledge so have Dir. Vehmoff looking at manga and catboy Dir. Asheworth (catboyism not relevant here, 120 directorism relevant here)." "He seems sad." "He is sad."

"SO ASHEWORTH ✨ EMOTIONALLY MANIPULATES ✨ HIM INTO VOTING IN X/MACHINA’S FAVOR USING HIS DEAD FRIEND AS LEVERAGE!" "whys theres a 50% opacity dog...." "don't worry about it!"

"If this man says it's safe, I don't know what else to tell you. DRAMATIC IRONY IS A LITERARY DEVICE IN WHICH--"

[Me going off script to briefly and VERY excitedly ramble about pataphysics]

[My one friend comparing generic vs protagonist vs archetypical to a/b/o and me threatening to end her life several times before moving on in the excited ramble and we all think its cool as fuck btw]

"I'm gonna read this [the 6747 imagion particles stuff] because I think it's cool and its my presentation."

"So? When's the other shoe gonna drop?" "Probably right now." "Yes!"

"So sometimes we taze it! Personnel are to be reminded that its totally dead and we totally aren’t lying to your face. The therapist we hired to taze the brain wants to be amnestizied of tazing the brain. We told her no. sorry Ngo." "Hah." "Ngo,,,,,,,,,"

"also his name is sparky...." "well thank god for that."

"It's becoming bad fanfiction." "They're all having sex." "No they're not, there's no sex in this." "We are reading very different bad fanfiction." "Yes we are!"

[My roommate googling 2747 bazongas]

"I wanna punt him [PHMD] like a football." "Good he deserves it."

"GET IN LOSER! We're killing gods!"

"What Dr. Blake is about to do has not been approved by the Vatican." [My friends loose their shit]

"That's right babey! It's the motherfucking starfish again!" "WHAT??" "Oh shit!!"

"PHMD’s plan is to create an Unbound Prometheus to help them find the God within the human mind. And not in the Frankenstein sense i mean he wants to unbind Prometheus and promote him as the God of Humanity. And everyone is just ok with this!?!?!?! [I am gesturing frantically and my voice is cracking like hell] Like they restructure the education system and everything to incorporate this and the Foundation starts to pray to Prometheus and all that???? its wild and so casually mentioned too, but here we go we’re doin this!!"

"oh my god he's the modern Prometheus." "HE'S THE MODERN PROMETHEUS!!!!"

"ignore the fact they've given people early onset dementia."

"the exhilaration of severing a finger from a squirming human hand (ie. transcendence). [Pause] WELL AIN'T THAT JUST PEACHY :D"

''that was the SHORT ONE?" "Short and sweet! Not simple and short." "Heeheheh, yeah."

"It's killing all AI!" "yaaaaaaaaaaaaayy!"

"SO NOW DISREGARD THAT LAST SLIDE! BECAUSE I LIED TO YOU!!" "why would you do that,,,?" "what????" "THERE'S NO VIRUS. IT'S ANOTHER GOD DAMN FOUNDATION MADE EIGENMACHINE. THE VIRUS IS A COVER UP." "why are you talking like a republican conspiracy theorist."

"That's really fucked up, thank you!" "ISN'T IT???"

"Please take note to behold the comedic amount of power that LOTUS needs."

"I love 28 nuclear reactors."

"So things go to shit pretty fast! Cause guess what? PHMD touched the damn machine."

"So yeah these guys have no right to be surprised when it starts interring all AI, even the most simplest of spellcheckers." "Not Grammarly!!!" "yup, LOTUS got it."

"isn't LOTUS itself an AI..?" [I turn my head slowly and grin at them in dead silence] "oh great thanks." "we'll get to that :) we'll get to that :)))"

"Have you tried turning it on and off again?"

"Problem solved, right? [next slide] SO EVERYTHING GETS IMMEDIATELY WORSE!!!!"

"Lunar Area-23 is gone." "THEY TOOK THE MOON??" "you know who else takes the moon? Gru." "GOD FUCKING DAMMIT."

[my friends horrified look as I describe Hishakaku's hostile takeover]

"He demoted him and erased his mind, because the Foundation can just do that, by the way." "Oh! :D Ok! :D"

"WOULD YOU BELIEVE ME IF I SAID IT GETS EVEN WORSE? Because I lied to you again!!! OCI does not stand for Obtuse Computation Interface. It stands for Organic Consciousness Interface. THAT'S RIGHT! HISHKAKAU WAS PUTTING BRAINS IN JARS!"

"Not Head of Disinformation that's craaazy," "Yeah they just have that." "I wanna be CEO of lying."

"Wow fuck this guy."

[My one friend making a rainbow dash jar joke like right before the slide that has the rainbow dash jar joke]

"LOTUS is flipping its shit."

"THINGS ARE FINALLY DONE GETTING WORSE! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!" "Woah!" "No :D!"

[group cackling at Hishakaku's takedown]

"Why'd they do that???" "because they're fucking fascists!!"

"Oh and by the way the remains of LOTUS have been salvaged for Project ADMONITION." "Ggrrrreeat!!"

"Admonition Episode 5, SCP-7243, Existential Abatement." "I like that its gay :}" "It IS gay!"

"What if the timeloop happened in June."

"He also shows Ngo -- the therapist who was tazing the brain earlier you remember her? -- the item he wanted to give Phillip. A magic box, that makes it seem like the object you’ve put in it vanishes. But there’s no magic at all, just a drawer, just a trick." "Oh boy" "Nnnnnno way." "Wow isn’t that a specific detail I sure hope that isn’t a framing device."

"Dougall asks Amelia what the hell he should do. She tells him three words--" "kill yourself." "No more wast-- no."

"Esoteric waste???" "sent it into space." "we can't do that :("

"You killed my husband." "Yeah that's an actual line in the article." "SDKFJSHDKHFD"

"Oh right yeah there's an SCP object in this article."

[my friends thinking DePLExA is really cool]

[Me pausing for two seconds each time 'waste' pops up]

"They are dumping empty containers into an empty pit. Because if they don’t it’ll cause a paradox. [Pause] You ready to cause another parado-- hold your conceptual horses actually because there's more to explain."

"Esoteric gift horses and their non-existent mouths."

"AND THEN IT ALL GOES TO SHIT! [to the tune of 'and then along came zeus']

"Wait September 8th again??" "It's fucking happening again."

"A magnitude 8.5 earthquake hits." "Ttttttthats not good."

[My friends mounting horror as I just read through the EE-7243 event entirely]

"So it was like putting a lid on a burning pan. But the burning pan is an acromatic abatement facility about to esoterically explode and the lid is a bomb that creates a forcefield"

"Oh hey! We found Amelia!" "Oh!!!" "She's not ok, but she's alive!" "That's a lot!!!" "yeah!!!"

[periodic sounds of me excitedly stimming while talking]

"We're living out of spite!" "that's soooooooooo real," "she's so me!" "I love how she hates her brother-in-law more than she loves her husband." "YEAH KDFJGHDFJKG"

"But they don't have one [O5-9]..." "oops." "Whoops!!"

"GUESS WHAT DOUGALL TURNS AROUND AND DOES? AFTER BEING TOLD NOT TO TAKE SHORTCUTS NOR MIRACLE CURES??? GUESS WHAT HE DOES?" "takes a shortcu--" "HE TAKES A MOTHERFUCKING SHORTCUT!"

[group confusion over Amelia and Dougall marrying eachother]

[Group freakout over Dougall being the entity that killed Phillip]

"What is waste? I guess you finally figured it out, Dougall." "OH MY GOD KDJFGHDKFJGD" "THAT'S HILARIOUS." "THIS IS AN ACTUAL LINE IN THE ARTICLE."

"wwwwait a second, a timeline being cut off from the coalition and the RCT? This is familiar..." "that fucking rubik's cube." "the cube!!"

"He fucked around just to get this timeline kicked out?" "He's throwing for content!!" "He should get twitter cancelled."

"Operation LAST STRAW success--" "Hehehehe"

"Because one of the people who writes this taunts me on tumblr and I go insane on the regular."

"She's from the paradox timeline as well," "how'd she get outtie :(((" "We don't know yet!"

this was 101 slides

"why did y'all let this guy cook??" "this freak cannot handle his trauma in a healthy way."

"He might be trying to become the LOGICIAN and kill his author. But also the LOGICIAN is the author so he may be trying to kill the LOGICIAN." "This is just like Betty from adventure time."

"This powerpoint has DLC content!"

and now my friends wanna read the actual Admo articles I am kicking my feet and giggling fr fr fr fr fr fr fr ehehehehehehehe. my brainworms.................... god im so happy rn you have no idea this is all so cool to me and im so happy my friends thought it was neat,,,,,

#scp #admonition #funny. laugh now #dino screams asmr

15 notes · View notes

georgieluz · 2 years ago

Note

ok sorry but julian. my sweet dear julian. i will never ever ever shut the fuck up about babe got a tamagotchi i need to know everything about it and when you're finished with it i need you to bypass posting it on ao3 and inject it into my veins

hello, m'love! i'm glad you're ready to be as hyperfixated on babe and his tamagotchi as i am, but i fear you may be disappointed as this is just the title of my early 2000s battle of the bands au.

babe won't play a gig without his trusty tamagotchi attached to his belt loop, and it has somehow become the main visual representation of this fic in my mind. and bc i keep changing the actual title for this damn thing, it's still "babe got a tamagotchi!!!" as a file

but, about the fic itself!

babe plays keyboard and is the very enthusiastic second vocalist of george luz's two-month old garage band. and yes, he will absolutely bite if you try and call him a backing vocalist. especially bc skip muck will never let him forget that he's the main vocalist and frontman of the band. george disagrees and is constantly trying to explain how actually, despite him being on guitar, he's actually the frontman of the band bc he created it. then we've got malarkey on bass, who frankly does not want to be a part of this competition whatsoever, and lieb on drums, who's not particularly bothered but thinks it will probably be hilarious so has agreed to go along with it.

they've played two gigs total in their entire career. neither of which paid them. one was an impromptu performance at a friend's party and the other was in the retirement home of george's grandfather, where they were asked to cover songs by the beach boys and nothing else. malarkey threatened to end everyone and himself that day, so they've never played a beach boys song since.

george is convinced they're gonna win the local battle of the bands competition, and enters them without telling any of the others. unfortunately for them, local favourites, the bastognes, fresh off their very first tour and supposedly on the precipice of being signed to an actual record label, are also competing. and are probably going to win. no, they're definitely going to win. no doubt about it.

the bastognes are ofc very familiar faces, but i'll leave that for future discussion. outside of the band scene, we also have david webster, classical pianist, who really doesn't want to be dragged into a sticky dive bar to deal with these idiots and their antics, but is definitely going to be. mainly bc he writes for the local university paper and has been assigned to cover the competition. then we have joe toye, who bartends at said dive bar, aka the music venue holding the competition. he may or may not be fucking a certain band member who may or may not also be his boyfriend.

yes, there's webgott. yes, there's baberoe.

babe and his tamagotchi frequent heavily bc the bar is so low for me and it does in fact have me frothing at the mouth

and if you're curious, his tamagotchi is yellow with pink and orange buttons and detailing

if you still want it injected into your veins i am ready and waiting with the syringe!

for this ask/tag wip game :)

#we need more fic with skip muck at the forefront ok #julian's inbox #julian's ask games #my wips #julian writes #i can't remember any of my tags anymore

20 notes · View notes

kitkatsudon · 2 years ago

Note

What made you want to start writing Unbreakable?

(PS I got tumblr for your Gonjo theories lol)

Wow, thank you so much for asking! And first of all let me say that I’m really honoured that you care enough about my theories to make this account 🥺 I need to post more to be honest, but right now a lot of them are caught in a trap of being spoilers for the next important project.

As for why I wanted to write Unbreakable… the short answer is that, as a Yeong stan I was unsatisfied with Taegon, and it annoyed me so much that I felt compelled to write a fic to fix that SKFSLKJFKLJK something where Gon would have to face consequences for how Yeong was mistreated, before eventually they would be able to make each other happy for the rest of their lives. This was… perhaps inspired a little by my own life at the time, where I was in a complicated situation with a straight girl that I liked, a kind of situation where it was almost as if we were together even though we weren’t… and recently she’d got a boyfriend, and I was pretty heartbroken despite having no real reason to be 😅😅 it’s embarrassing looking back, but I connected with Yeong a lot because I saw my situation at the time in how he might have felt about Taegon.

The longer answer is that while that was the initial reason, it quickly became more than that. I have a bad habit of writing the first chapter of a fic without really knowing where it’s going, I just know where I want it to start, and only when that first chapter is done do I really start thinking about “cooler” twists and turns for the story to take. The act of writing the fic itself made me start thinking about Yeong’s family, and wanting to explain the age gap between Yeong/Eunseob and the twins while also trying to explain why Yeong is the way he is. I have a habit of making myself sad while daydreaming about my beloved blorbos, and my general rule of thumb is “ohh this would be awful - let’s write it!”

The surprising thing for me, however, was how as the story progressed… it stopped being a way to vent from Yeong’s point of view, and I started to really identify a lot more with Gon as I was writing. Obviously I was still feeling Yeong as well, but what started off as a way to complain about Gon turned into something where I really wanted to explain his point of view in a way that was sympathetic and understandable. To be honest, I think a lot of this came from my friends at the time telling me that they think I’m autistic, and then me looking at Lee Gon and going “wait a damn minute… why does the research I’ve been doing seem to fit with how I’ve been writing him?” Then I started projecting, and from about chapter 11? 12? onwards I started doing what I’d accidentally been doing before on purpose, and that also became a big driving factor. This is a hill I will die on, and at some point in the next… well, few years, being honest with myself about how fast I’m working now I’m at uni, I do want to make a post on this headcanon for Gon because it’s important to my heart, but I want to finish my detailed rewatch of the show first. TL;DR, halfway through writing I switched sides from being a Yeong defender to a Gon apologist, and then that became a big driving force for the fic.

But mostly… they just live rent-free in my head, and that was the summer after I finished school so I had a lot of free time to write, and I really enjoyed working all my headcanons at the time into a fic that tied up enough loose ends to satisfy me after the show just left me feeling frustrated. Nowadays, Unbreakable is kind of out of date for me honestly - working on another fic with @irregularpeach has created so many more headcanons than I ever could have dreamed up on my own, and now the multiverse is pretty extensive in my mind 😅

I hope you didn’t regret asking me this question - it’s perhaps a mistake to get me talking about my precious blorbos, because I will talk. From my part, thank you for giving me this opportunity to shamelessly witter on about my fic, this really made me smile when I saw it!

#tkem #gonjo #fanfiction #seriously thank you so much for letting me be so annoying SKJDHFSDFJFD #kitkat answers asks

23 notes · View notes

heat--end · 2 years ago

Text

20 questions for fic writers

i saw this from @tearsoftime0086 and figured why not

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

14, though i think one MIGHT be privated?

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

453,462

3. What fandoms do you write for?

basically just pokemon, lol. one day i wanna branch out, but i really like writing for pokemon, so i don't mind that all too much

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Iridescent Bonds - my first ever fic, a dawn/irida story that involves them falling in love over the course of PLA's storyline and some other events. dawn is transgender! it's good! i hold this story very close to my heart, and i'm actually rewriting it right now, which is fun!

Bloom - trans girl lillie during the sun/moon story. its basically just a deeper dive into lillie as a character, while also making her trans, because Me Like Trans Characters. im very proud of this!

God Cannot Give You Relationship Advice - a very short, very silly one-shot that i threw together on a whim and is my 3rd most kudos'd work lmao. still, it's fun and cute, i can see why people like it so much

Shining Beyond Space Itself - my current project other than BFS! a rewrite of iridescent bonds, really fleshing out the idea and doing it proper. currently on 17 chapters out of 20, so its wrapping up soon

Jewel Box - my dawn/irida oneshot collection, based entirely on the universe established in iridescent bonds/shining beyond space. it's just a big fluff collection, but damn if i dont love it LOL. plus it really helped me develop the framework for SBS

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

LOVE responding to comments, only time i dont is if i feel i cant really add much or the like. but i really enjoy adding on to people's questions, or further explaining stuff, or even just thanking them for nice comments because i love comments!!!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

honestly, i don't really write angsty endings - i do enjoy writing angst, but not in my endings. i guess maybe Stardust Memories, but even that ends on a nice note???

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

probably Iridescent Bonds, since that just ends on dawn and irida getting married lmao. it's mushy and sappy but damn it i am a mushy and sappy gal!!!!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

thankfully no. i got one comment on iridescent bonds though that was like "this was great until the trans shit" which like. that's in the 2nd line, bro lmao

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

nah, probably wont ever

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

MY PRIDE AND FUCKING JOY, BUILD FIGHTERS SHINING. a crossover fic between pokemon and gundam build fighters, but to be more specific, it's a crossover between iridescent bonds/SBS and gundam build fighters. i love love LOVE writing this story, it's my other project next to SBS (it's taken a small hiatus because of SBS wrapping up - all my focus is going into that). LOVE build fighters shining. my pride and joy. my brainchild. i pour my heart and SOUL into this story

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

not that i know of, but i wouldn't mind someone doing so

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i haven't no. might be fun, though!

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

incredibly easy answer lmfao. akari/irida, 100%. dawn/irida as well, but that's just a variant of akari/irida really. i love love LOVE this ship, i think the game really lets these two build a strong relationship over the course of the game and they grow so incredibly close that i think its so cute, i love irida as a character so i think shes gay, and i love dawn/irida cause thats MY variation of it. girls gay. gay women. go check out @iridawn for all my autism about this ship

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

probably the akari/irida WIP i had where akari gets burned bad from the fight with lord arcanine, and irida has to help her while the others get materials to help. i cant really find the angle i'd want on it, and i'm a little worried about inaccurately writing a burn injury lmfao

16. What are your writing strengths?

i like to think i'm good at writing emotional stuff when i really need to, especially when it's just sappy and good. i also think i can write action scenes pretty well. not FLAWLESSLY, but im proud of it

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

definitely how i describe certain things and my habit to repeat words, lmao. i fall into writing ticks a lot, stuff like "a bit" or just sticking to certain words, and i dont give AS much detail as i should sometimes when decorating a scene. its something im slowly working on, but def my weakness

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

not a bad idea at all, yeah. i say its good

19. First fandom you wrote for?

published was pokemon, but first i WROTE for was DBZ. i wrote a very small piece a long, LONG time ago, and i never published it or anything, it was just a small little idea i had. i think its lost to time now though lol maybe ill go look for it one day

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

GOD, this is hard. i love everything ive written, but i really have to give it to build fighters shining. despite not being done yet, BFS is my brainchild, its my self indulgent baby, i have poured my heart into that fic and i love developing the world in it and the custom gunpla and everything. i fucking LOVE build fighters shining, it is so fun to write for lmao

7 notes · View notes

apricare · 4 years ago

Text

walking a fine line while writing of “keeping mentions of Reapers vague enough that this fic could be either ME canon divergence or set in my ever more elaborate AU where Reapers Work Differently”

#shakarian #my fic #at some point i will have to decide #a problem for future apri #also unsure if i should post my Reapers Work Differently AU on tumblr #or just write a damn fic in it first and let it explain itself #feel like the benefit to the former is squashing exposition #otoh it's not like most of the characters in said AU know how reapers work there either

3 notes · View notes

b-ritney · 2 years ago

Text

My Favorites Fics

This is going to be an ever expanding list that I will edit from time to time, I have almost 400 liked stories though so it will take me a while to get through everything!

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don't be offended if a story you wrote doesn't come up on the list I promise I don't mean to leave anyone out I LOVE all the stories I've liked and the writers, and I tell my IRL friends about your writing ALL the time!

I will write next to each thing what it is :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Take The Edge Off by @ohcaptainstains : SMUT

This is soooo good it's one of the first fics I read when I got really into this community and I was immediately hooked.

Aftercare by @dazed-nymphsss : FLUFF but mentions smut

Another really sweet one I read at the beginning of my obsession, I read it while I was overnight dog-sitting for my grandma's neighbor and I just remember the dog giving me the weirdest looks when I was giggling and kicking my feet.

Gentle With Me by @swingsuckerswing: SMUT

Reminds me of a movie I just can't figure out which one though.... I just love how Eddie is so sweet about the whole first-time thing.

he's gentle when he wants to be by @munsonussy: SMUT

LITERALLY, I DIED "Is it okay if I touch you baby, or not yet?" SUCH A GENTLEMAN AHHHHH

something extra by @luveline: SMUT

It's the way he so sexily explains what he's gonna do to the reader and asks if it's ok and everything, we love a respectful man UGH actually though it is so so so so good.

Eddie loves on anxious reader drabble by @bambimunson: FLUFF

As someone who struggles with an anxiety disorder this type of love and affection would make me want to hold onto that person and never let them go sooooo sweet!

Shy! reader joins hellfire by @luveline: FLUFF

THE ENDING BRUH I kid you not I cried, having a friend like Eddie would be so special. Who gave him the right to be this charming and adorable!

Aftercare w/ Eddie by @silkscream: FLUFF with mentions of smut

I'm a fool for the giggly, loving afterglow when nothing else matters but the 2 of you. This is *chefs kiss*

Right Here by @upsidedownwithsteve: Fluff but with *sMuTtY sPicE*

Shit you not I probably come back and read this at least once a week... I think I'm jealous of the reader lmao, The shotgunning is... *bites knuckle* so so so so sexy.

Eddie holds your hand while he eats you out by @manicpixiedreamcurl: SMUT

If one day someone ever loves me for real, they better hold my hand like this.

Systematic Oppression by @fierce-writer Guns n Roses Meme

They would absolutely do that, also LOVE your profile pic Myles and Slash kick ASS!

Period Sex w/ Eddie by @ddejavvu: SMUT

Some people are just lucky I guess UGH we love a bf how doesn't mind getting a little messy haha seriously though Im in love with this lmao

Size kink with Billy Hargrove by @tommydarlings: SMUT

I love the whole thing but the NSFW part *bites knuckles again* my intimidation kink is really making itself known rn lmao

Bi-Billy I'm Nervous by @smolkiwi98 : SMUT

I resonated with this one so much, my virgin ass still goes crazy re-reading this all the damn time. The reader just sounded so much like me lmao but LIKE when he's still a little mean when she tenses up HEHEHEHE I'm a SLUT for that shit.

FACESITTING W/ EDDIE by @forourmoons: SMUT

I'm what society considers plus size sooo I've always been hesitant to even indulge myself in this topic, but HOLY SHIT, this fic is so cute and encouraging, while also being nasty af. Like me LMAO JK JK

Baby, Kiss Me Quick by @upsidedownwithsteve: SMUT

Call me sweetheart again I dare you! ..... no seriously like call me sweetheart again hehehehehehe (Have you ever heard sponge bob say "I loOOVVEE ITTTT" bc that's what I sound like rn.)

Ice Cube request by @sunflowersteves: SMUT

Listen.... don't knock it till you try it, that's all I'm gonna say. LMAO seriously though this is again *chefs kiss* (PLZ DON'T TRY THIS UNLESS YOU'VE TALKED TO LIKE A DOCTOR OR SOMETHING, just keep the ice on the outside unless you know what your doing...)

Stick & Poke by @idkmanijustwannawrite SMUT

I'm just jealous of the reader honestly, I'm a whore for that shit, also is it weird that I like the feeling of being tattooed... the whole experience is like a challenge to see if you can take it or not... OMG I just learned something about myself LMAO

camera shy by @bowerquinn SMUT

excuse me while I *swallow my whole fist* it stayed up until 2am reading this one a while back.

Babysitter x Steve by @mypoisonedvine: SMUT

This was like a gateway drug for me into the universe of STEDDIE X BABYSITTER fics which is currently my all-time favorite trope. It's so good omfg.

Angst writer Meme by @thedialup

Lol the cheeky little smile on the stick figures face is accurate as hell too, they know they are channeling all that internal rage and turmoil into a masterpiece lmao.

The "Yes" Policy by @pinkrelish Mix of Fluff/SMUT/angst kind of

This series has 7 PARTS as of right now, when I tell you it's good it's fucking GOOD, the way the tension slowly builds between the reader and Eddie is so... for lack of a better term *tAntAliZinG* I LOVE IT.

Boys On Film by @corrodedcorpses SMUT

This writer... y'all this writer, she is F.A.N.T.A.S.T.I.C this is also a series that is so FUCKING good.

June Baby by @luveline Mix fluff/angst/ idk about smut I haven't finished the series yet.

Ok, so this series consistently made me cry in the best way. Something about Eddie just being so good to this young single mom made me emotional, so so amazing.

Soft Sex with Eddie by @wroteclassicaly SMUT

This makes me involuntarily shake.. like a constant state of anticipation the intimacy is OFF THE CHARTS. I loVe iT

Rumour by @msgexymunson SMUT

This..... I don't even know where to start.. not only has this series been giving me actual life the last few weeks but I JUST KEEP COMING BACK TO IT... listen, the dick piercing? masterstroke my friend, well done. take a bow honestly. *clap* *clap* *clap*

Love Me Deep by @tastefulstars SMUT

These men have a choke hold on me right now... why is it that the idea of being helpless between them turns me on so much lmao. Maybe it's like the unintentionally filthy, dirty talk they do, idk lol.

The Sheep by @newlips SMUT

It's the tattoo's for me *drooling*

Shy reader x Rockstar Eddie! by @lucasnclair FLUFF

The cutest... this is basically what I want from my future rockstar husband. I will come back and thank this writer when I print this story and hand it to my husband as a BLUEPRINT lmao (don't worry I'll make sure I credit you haha)

Paparazzi by @tiannasfanfic FLUFF/ SMUT/ ANGST

I apologize for the language but good FUCKING god this fic made me feel all the emotions. This writer's talent is unbelievable! I will say I love how you made Eddie's publicity wife the actual baddest bitch ever, we love a powerful woman who helps those in need.

How They Comfort You by @dazed-nymphsss FLUFF with some innuendo

Love the whole thing but when Billy says, "You wanna go for a ride?" THE FACT THAT HE LITERALLY HAS NO POSITIVE EXAMPLES IN HIS LIFE AND HE IS STILL DOING THE BEST HE CAN FOR HIS PARTNER MAKES ME FERAL

Taking Steve and Eddie At The Same Time... by @indulgentlyinclined SMUT

The way this kept me up at night for 3 days straight. I- am drooling

Steddie X babysitter by @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint SMUT

I could go on for FUCKING WEEKS about this currently 2 PART series.... It is my current obsession and the topic of every conversation I have with my irl friend I read fics with... I almost stayed awake through the night when I stumbled on this one... like I was giggling so much I had to keep stopping and starting lol... literally so good.

Pretty Sounds by @eddiethefreakkmunson SMUT

Can you imagine if this was reality though... Axl Rose is on his fucking knees, Eddie would be his god.

Sitting on Eddie's Amp by @corrodedcherry SMUT

Thank you for giving yet another reason to love dirty ass rockstars... I've been perched on top of a live amp before lmao.... listen... like I said before, DONT KNOCK IT TILL YOU TRY IT

Eddie's rings while he eats you out by @niceboyeds and @munsonology SMUT

But can you imagine though UGH

Inked Eddie x reader x steve by @muertawrites SMUT

Again with the tattoo thing, I LOVE the feeling of being tattooed so I don't relate to the reader's physical pain BUT BUT BUT I can relate to wanting to be in her exact position every time I read this fic, AHHH the jealousy is TOO REAL lol

Approved by @writingdumpster SMUT

I can't wait to make my parents this angry lmao, this is soooo *spIcY*

As You Wish by @corroded-hellfire SMUT

I'm biting my knuckles again seriously like this is sooo damn hot. Thank you for giving me life with another Babysitter fic UGH

weekend storm by @wroteclassicaly SMUT

You're a wizard Harry, seriously this is *MaGic*

Enjolras eats mad revolutionary pussy by @ceriseheaven SMUT

When I tell you I showed this to everyone... *bites knuckles* the part with the corset... you're a GENIUS! also..... THE FRENCH

I'm In Control by @justmeinadaze SMUT SMUT SMUT

Every time you update I giggle with excitement. This series blows my mind in the best way ugh

Helping Hands by @daddyreid SMUT

The way this has invaded my thoughts every day since the first time I read it... round of applause for this author.

Easy Like A Sunday Afternoon by @newlips SMUT

My friend and I read this together during the intermissions of a hockey game and we both screamed at the part where he protects her head WE LOVE A THOUGHTFUL CARING MAN!

Baby, as if by @carolmunson SMUT SMUT SMUT

OK be warned if you are not into dark toxic mean Eddie then you might want to be very cautious, but FOR ME.... my panties evaporated LMAO are we okay?! hahaha

Perv Eddie Eats Your Puss while you sleep by @corrodedcherry SMUT

... imagine having like a sexy dream and then waking up and it's for real happening ummmm.... hehehehe (consensual of course)

Eddie spits on your pussy by @ceriseheaven

Take a bow queen bc this is a masterpiece, when he, "need another taste baby, you'll give it to me?" LMAO my mom goes "Why the fuck are you screaming." This is absolutely one I'll come back too, I'm sending this to the girly group chat as we speak.

225 notes · View notes

whirlybirbs · 4 years ago

Text

FEVER-DREAM ; echo/reader

summary: echo is fine-tuning his new prosthesis. you have experience, you help. unspoken feelings are acted on. adoration blooms. you learn what mesh’la means.

word count: 3k

pairing: echo / f!reader

tags: mutual pining, lots of tender looks, victorian-era hand-touching sluttiness, echo is a gentle soul, reader is head over heels, a touch of ptsd mention, set on ord mantell, mention of our boy fives, in this house we love assistive devices, enough sexual tension to power the death star

a/n: this is me round-house kicking the bad batch writers in the throat because they made echo cosplay a droid — but, also because this man deserves to be treated as more than a means to a mission’s end. majority of you know i am ~bitter~ (understatement of the century) of tbb’s plot/design/writing. but echo has been a favorite from the original days... so have some very soft fic.

i reference character redesigns by @nibeul in this piece — please go peep them here, and some updated character spreads here! they’re really beautiful and add a phenomenal layer of storytelling to the existing designs that’s lacking. nibuel’s art and writing is lovely. please give them a follow — i can’t rec their work enough.

“How does it feel?”

The words are nearly whispered; it’s clear you didn’t want to startle him, and Echo can feel the pinch in his brow soften at your sudden appearence in the doorway.

His bunk, at the back of the Havoc Marauder, is small — the space itself even more so. There’s a makeshift partition, hooked together with spare parts and meant to offer a bit of privacy on the cramped vessel. Its slate grey color has faded, and the edges have become tattered in the cycles of use.

When Echo pulls his dark eyes up from his work, you’re leaning against the frame — your expression is earnest.

For a moment, the once-ARC Trooper is quiet.

He wonders if he’ll ever get used to your attention. Each and every time, it sends him into a spiral; his heart catches as he inhales and tries to push down the warm stir in his gut. The sight of you is enough, nowadays, to melt Echo’s well-maintained irritability. His attention is stolen from his ever-present pain, if only for a bit.

There are plenty of days where he misses the old him — the wide-eyed, eager ARC Trooper who had his brothers by his side. His real brothers. Hevy, Cutup, Droidbait... Fives.

Fuckin’ hell, Fives was probably staring down at him now laughing.

No matter what changes, you’re still shit with the ladies, vod’ika.

In a way he hasn’t fully admitted to himself, you make him feel like himself again. Like... Like some shiny cadet, on leave and distracted by the promises of pretty smiles passing-by. It’s good.

This makes him feel... good.

He flexes, and his right hand — the new, gunmetal durasteel cyberized-prosthesis — closes into a tight fist. It’s taken him a bit, but the feeling isn’t so foreign now. It’s still... slow. Slower than he’s used to, but you’d mentioned it may take some time. The phantom feelings get better, too. All in all, it’s a good thing.

Your own hand, your left, glimmers back in the same gunmetal color.

(Echo had never pressed you about the missing limb — not until one day, in Cid’s, you’d joined him in a quiet corner. You’d spilled your drink and a complaint about getting the star-cherry syrup out of the joints had slipped out. Echo had laughed; a real laugh, the sort that was so rare coming from him, it had you staring at him as if he’d hung ever star in the sky.

Can I ask how it happened? he’d said, breaking the heavy silence when your eyes never left his.

The Pykes, you’d said, and that was enough.)

“I haven’t, uh... Haven’t gotten the sensory calibration right yet.”

Then, his prosthesis cramps. His fingers go rigid, and Echo curses sharply as he reaches around his forearm to quickly reboot the appendage. It goes slack, then hums alive once more.

You wince.

You’re slow to move into the room — and you settle atop one of the crates Echo had stolen from the belly of the ship, an old Mantell Mix shipping container. You’re mindful to set his datapad aside, to not disturb his space too much. Before you reach for his hand, however, you lift your chin and open your hands in your lap.

“May I?” you ask, just as soft as before.

Echo feels small under your gaze.

Truth be told, you’re doing more than just... asking. You’re taking him in — appreciating him. It’s a habit that’s grown more and more apparent to not only himself, but the others.

In recent rotations, Echo has let his hair grow out — not long, but the once close buzz he’d kept has begun to curl at the top. Not entirely dissimilair to how it was before the Citadel. The dermal implants, the ones the Techno Union installed in order to parse the nuerological data in his head, stand out against his warm-colored skin.

His usual AJ^6-inspired headpiece is resting on his bunk.

That damn thing.

A neccesary tool. One that, given the amount of user data Tech had procured when working on modifying the implant, Echo found himself immediately distrusting. It wasn’t as if the AJ^6 cyborg construct had a beautiful track record, and frankly, Echo would like to keep his personality in tact, thank you very much. There were plenty of days he felt machine enough.

It wasn’t often you saw him without the headset; you knew it made linking in via his scomp easier to handle, it made the visualization of data transfers as easy as breathing. For Echo, it was a part of his vast kit, an important tool. For you, seeing him without it bubbles up a bit of a smile.

Echo catches it.

His eyes narrow playfully.

He looks... well. You — hell, are there words for it? For the way the sight of him makes you feel? It’s like there’s a world full of potential there, a thousand words unsaid, and feelings that have steeped in the warmth of longing gazes and half-there touches.

You’re still looking up at him, knees bent on the crate.

You blink, realizing you’ve been caught staring — not for the first time and certainly not for the last. In the beginning, it had left a sour taste in Echo’s mouth. But, now... Well, it stokes a sort of pride in his chest that he hangs onto.

It never gets easier to recover from — certainly not when Echo smirks. He moves to allow you to take his prosthesis into your lap. The gesture is gentle; your fingers cradle the firm yet pliable metal.

“What?” he asks. His voice, low and rough and warm, is tinted with amusement.

“Nothing,” you say vaguely with a shrug — as if that’s supposed to explain any part of your enamored stare. Your attention moves to the prosthesis.

“Nothing?” he asks, moving to thumb his left ear with his free hand with a dash of nervousness. A habit. Echo tilts his head as his fingers brush the cochlear implant there. The panel rests neatly against the side of his head, a small rounded-off square. The bite of self-consciousness has dwindled around you — but still, it creeps back up every now and again.

The Corporal’s brows knot playfully as you turn his new hand over in your lap; you’re admiring the upgraded feel, the more seamless panelling in comparison to your own. Echo watches your lashes flutter in silent thought.

Then:

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

You blink slowly at the hand, swallow down your sudden sheepishness and ignore his gaze. You bite back the smile digging into your cheeks. “Maybe.”

“Do I have something on my face?” he asks suddenly, and you look up.

A baited trick. He’s smiling.

The warm sort — the sort reserved for you and for Omega. The two souls that hold a piece of his heart, with all its ticking valves and electric timed pulses. There are machinisms that keep him alive, and then there is you. Your wide-eyed expression melts, giving way to the sort of smile he’s tried to memorize over and over. It’s the same smile that has warded off that reoccuring nightmare of the night on the tarmac at the Citadel, the same smile that has pulled him through the grit of phantom pains.

“What—” a sudden laugh bursts from your chest, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You were staring, mesh’la,” he rumbles out as a reminder, enjoying the fact he’s suddenly become the center of your attention. Echo leans back, his boot toeing yours. You nudge it back. Your face feels hot. You ignore his pointedly teasing look with a roll of your eyes.

The nickname started a few weeks ago. You haven’t asked what it means — no, for now it’s meaning hangs in the balance. Untouched but there. The affection the word carries makes your heart feel heavier and unbelievably full.

“Bad habit,” you chirp back, looking up at him through your lashes.

His laugh is warm.

“Maybe not.”

“No,” you say quietly; your voice is soft as your eyes bounce across his face, tracing the lines of his face with your gaze, “I don’t think it is.”

There’s a silence that slips between you — a comfortable one. It’s heavier than before. That has begun to happen recently, especially with the petal-soft utterance of mesh’la becoming more and more frequent. You hold his gaze. Echo lets out a soft, contented sigh.

Then, you remember the task at hand.

You clear your throat.

“Uh... The access panel I’m looking for,” you say slowly as your raise your finger to point to your own arm, “It’s on your bicep.”

Echo blinks. He clears his own throat before looking down — he hadn’t even noticed that access panel. That could explain the jarring miscommunication stalling the limb. This model had more bells and whistles than he initally realized.

Better than a fuckin’ scomp link, that’s for sure.

Wordlessly, Echo makes room on his bunk. You move to settle beside him, your bent leg resting aginst his hip as you half-straddle the bed; your other knee brushes his thigh — and Echo tries to sit still. You’re close, now.

“Is it okay if...?” you trail off, fingers tugging on the short sleeve of his blacks; you pause until Echo offers a curt nod. You catch him swallow. You push onward, fingers nimbly rolling the fabric up over his broad bicep.

Echo steals a glance your way as your fingers pass across a slip of his bare skin.

In his lap, both his hands twitch.

He’s no small man. Lean and athletic, Echo is built like a soldier. Omega had said once that Echo was an ARC Trooper, one of the best of the best. You believed every bit of it, and you’d hung on her words when she’d rambled on about ARC training, about Kamino, and about who Echo was before you knew him. It was all in the past, though. That Echo is a part of this Echo but... They’re different men. He’s been changed by the things that have happened.

You don’t press him on the details.

In time, they’re slipped into conversation here and there — between the here and now.

In the beginning, when you’d found yourself amongst the crew of the Havoc Marauder — be it for a simple job on Cid’s behalf — Echo had hardly paid you a moment of attention, though you admit you’d been curious from the start. It had taken three jobs for you to finally see his face. Then began the slow and gradual bonding over catching joints, grating plates, and hardware updates. His legs, your arm. Two pieces of a pair.

Now, he has this. A beautiful new upgrade — something he’s wanted for a long time. A part of his old self is back, in a way.

You liked that it was more than just a tool. That, in having this piece of his body back, he felt like more than a tool. More than a scomp link.

After all, he is a man — a... a very handsome man. One whose proximity is sort of distracting you, again, from the task at hand.

“The panel here,” you say as you slowly press on the seam that enables the settings panel to be revealed; you’re mindful to explain, “It controls sensory outputs, as well as synchonized synaptic commands. The panel on my forearm does the same to my hand, yours is just... well, you’ve got the new and improve version.”

Echo ducks his head as you work, watching you from the corner of his eye. “Feeling a bit jealous, mesh’la?”

“Maybe,” you breathe out with a smile.

Then, you lift your eyes. You intended to see that he was still comfortable, but instead you come face to face with the Corporal. His nose nearly brushes yours when you lift you chin, completely dragged in by the closeness shared.

There’s a beat of tension. Echo’s mouth goes dry.

You fingers pause. You swallow hard. “How... uh, how does it feel?”

Echo tightens his grip, then releases. His breath tickles your cheeks. His eyes, a deep, warm brown, flit from your eyes to your mouth, and then back. His voice is a croak.

“...Same as before.”

You tinker with a dial, eyes never leaving his; your voice is above a whisper. “And now?”

It’s immediate. Like a rush of cold air up his arm — and on instinct, Echo’s hand twitches. His fingers grip the fabric of his blacks, along his thigh, and... he feels it. The smooth, stretch of the material. It’s... it feels like a lot. His fingertips, metallic and cyberized, tingle. It’s distracting.

He can feel.

His hand is slow. It moves across to bridge the space between you. His pointer finger settles on the curve of your knee; the feeling of your tactical pants beneath his fingertip is ignored, instead he chases the heat of your body.

Your breath catches at the touch.

Echo’s face is turned to you, but... his attention has settled on his hand. His palm then sweeps across your thigh. He follows the curve, soaks in the feeling. You’re frozen in place, beating back the desperate sound of appreciation that threatens to be pulled from your throat. The touch is... more than welcomed.

The closeness itself is making you dizzy.

Then, Echo turns — and the warm, durasteel-plated palm finds your cheek.

Your skin is hot.

“Is this okay, mesh’la?” he whispers, words riding on a quiet exhale — the sort that make you feel... well, you don’t even have words for the way he makes you feel. Echo is... kind, honest, and loyal. Above all else, he’s gentle. Despite it all, despite every bit of horror he’d been put through, he’d never lost sight of the importance of a gentle hand. Especially now in a moment as intimate as this. It coaxes you closer.

You lean into the cybernetic attachment, cheek resting in his palm. You nod, then, with eyes eager to take in every bit of this moment.

He chuckles at the enthusiasm. Echo’s thumb, deft and smooth, then traces the line of your lower lip.

The feeling is... the gnawing pain that he’s felt for nearly a year has melted. Finally, the itch has been scratched in his brain and the hollow ache of his bones is gone. It’s relief, and comfort, and excitement and all these beautiful things — and you.

You’re stuck — you don’t want to move, you won’t move. He’s rooted you completely, and when his other hand — the calloused and warm one of flesh and blood — finds it’s spot along your thigh, you swallow a lovesick sigh that would only exaserbate your desperation.

Your mouth is moving before you realize it.

“What does it mean?”

Echo’s eyes narrow, only a bit, and he runs his thumb up your cheekbone.

“What does what mean?”

“Mesh’la,” it sounds foreign on your tongue. It’s not Hutteese or Twi’leki, not like any language you know, “Will you tell me what it means, Echo?”

The corner of his lips quirk. Your eyes jump to it.

You feel like someone’s reached right into your chest and given your heart a squeeze — and it only worsens when he laughs. He laughs, deep and quiet and warm, like a thunderstorm on a summer night. It feels cruel, to string you along like this when you’re here, lips parted, hanging off his every touch and his every word.

“Beautiful,” he says quietly as his other hand touches your jaw — it’s so damn reverent, this little moment in time, that you almost don’t believe it’s real.

It feels like a dream — like someone has come in and stolen your thoughts from you; like the unrequited yearning has finally stoked a fire large enough to burn you up entirely, a fever you never knew you wanted.

His nose brushes yours.

Your fingers wind into the fabric of his chest. You’re clinging, lost to the moment — and you can’t help wonder if this is how it feels when he catches you adoring him. He’s admiring you so tenderly that you nearly break.

You want to kiss him.

He’s thought about nothing but kissing you for the last five days at least. Longer in his dreams. Nowadays, it’s a constant pull, a constant want.

And now, it’s here — a present and current moment where it can happen. Where he can stop being a shiny cadet and he can make a move...

Enter Omega.

“Echo, we’re back—!”

The telltale hammer of a girl’s boots on the floor signals that the party is back from their supply run — but you’re so far off, spinning in a different universe, you don’t even hear her until its too late... Until Echo is yanking himself away and clearing his throat and rolling his wrist to test the prosthesis in a different way, a less intimate way.

You blink, then rattle yourself back to the present. Omega is in the doorway staring with a quizzical look. Clearly, your state does little to dissuade the assumptions she’s already making and you can see the gears turning in her head. The dark-haired girl then slowly grins.

“Hi.”

You swallow. “Hi, Omega.”

“...Whatcha guys doin’?”

Echo coughs. “Uh, just fine-tuning the new upgrade.”

“...Riiiiiight.”

You rub your cheeks and laugh — clearly forced and incredibly pained — as you stand up and nearly ram your head right into the top of Echo’s bunk. It’s met with a hiss of warning from the trooper as he jumps up to try and protect you from the impact.

“Well! Uh, thanks for letting me help, Echo,” you clap, rocking back and forth on your boots, “I, uh... Oh, Cid called. I should... I should get back—”

“Yea,” he says, straining a bit to find the words, “Yea, I’ll... I’ll comm you if it starts to, uh... If it starts to act up?”

Omega watches the exchange, big brown eyes moving from left to right.

“Good, great — yea, that’s,” you inhale as you rub your thighs and move towards the door, “Perfect. Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Bye!” Omega calls, waving.

You wave back, smiling. “Bye, Omega.”

Then, once it’s only Echo and Omega in the bunk, the tween speaks.

“...What the kriff was that?”

#HE IS A CORPORAL!!!!!#let echo say fuck #and omega #echo x reader #echo imagine #arc trooper echo x reader #echo/reader #echo/you #echo x you #tcw imagine #tbb imagine #sw imagine #the bad batch imagine #THANK YOU ANON WHO SENT ME THE UPDATED SPREADS #LOVE U ANGEL

569 notes · View notes