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dsmutp · 3 years

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Learning Curve (C!Charlie Slimecicle x Reader)

Teaching Charlie was a delight.

When Quackity had put you up to the job, you hadn’t been too sure about it. Teaching someone how to be human (whatever that entailed) seemed like more than you had signed up for when you had become a resident of Las Nevadas - just imagining long hours of helping someone learn the intricacies of human life made your head ache. But Quackity had insisted, and you really had nothing better to do.

Three months into the job though, and you were quite attached to Charlie.

He was a wonderful student - eager to learn and bright enough that it never took him too long to grasp new concepts (though, as with any student, some things came more naturally than others) - and an even more wonderful friend. It was amazing how a sentient piece of goo (though it was really hard for you to think of him like that anymore) could be more kind and caring than half of the actual people you knew.

You were pleased to say that Charlie had become quite fond of you as well. Though you were only supposed to spend six hours a day with him, oftentimes you wound up just spending your days together, wandering around the unfinished Las Nevadas after you had completed his schooling for the day, talking about whatever crossed your minds. Charlie was always eager to hear stories from your day to day life, and the amount of history he had seen just from being around for that many years never failed to make you gaze at him with wonder.

It wouldn’t have been a stretch to say that he had become your best friend.

You certainly liked him enough - that goofy smile never failed to brighten your mood, even on the worst days, and though the slight fluidity of his skin had been off putting at first, through the amount of daps you shared, you had gotten used to it - come to enjoy it even, something that was uniquely Charlie.

For all his wonderful attributes though, there were still some times that you got a little exasperated with him.

“Nope.” You sighed, watching as his arm bent the wrong way again. “You can’t just bend the joint that way, Charlie, that’s not how bones work.”

“But you said to hit the lever behind me..?” Charlie asked, righting his arm again.

“Right, but with humans, remember, the joints don’t bend all the way around because of the bones.” You reminded him. “Just because your body can bend that way, doesn’t mean mine can.”

Charlie nodded slowly, but the confused look was still hovering in his eyes.

“Do you want to go over joints and movement again?” You asked.

Charlie smiled sheepishly. “Yes please.”

You stepped forward, extending your arms. You had done this exercise a few times before, just to help Charlie learn which body parts worked together and which joints moved in which directions. It was easy for him to forget though - his body didn’t really have limits to movement, being slime - and he had a bad habit of just throwing human joint movements away in exchange for what was the most easy at the time.

Charlie placed his hands on your elbows, and you bent your arms, letting him feel how the joints moved and worked. “See? One way.”

“Right.” Charlie said, nodding now. His hands moved to your shoulders. “But these ones go all the way around?”

You rolled your shoulders, moving the ball joint in a circle. “Correct.”

His hands wandered down to your wrists. “Same as these?”

You rolled your wrists, nodding.

From there, Charlie’s hands found your hips. “But these ones only go forward and backward.”

“For walking.” You said, nodding. “They can go out, a little - nothing too far though.”

Charlie nodded, his eyes wandering over your body innocently. The first few times you had done this with him, you had been a little uncomfortable - it was strange, to be treated like a scientific model, slightly slimy hands running up and down your skin, asking what each of your joints and muscles did. But over time, you had gotten used to it - Charlie was only curious to learn, after all, and you were more than willing to help.

A hand over your crotch startled you, and you broke out of your train of thought, raising an eyebrow at Charlie. He only blinked at you though, saying, “You never said what this part’s for.”

You closed your eyes, steeling yourself. You had known this day would come, eventually - sex was a large part of human life, after all. You didn’t really want to be having ‘the talk’ with a sentient piece of goo that you had come to know and love, but you supposed it had had to come at some point.

“It’s for sex, Charlie.”

Charlie’s eyebrows shot up. “You have a stripper pole on you?”

The comment was so out of place that you couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “What?”

“A stripper pole.” Charlie repeated. “Like the one in the casino? Quackity said it was for sex-”

“No, no.” You said, cutting him off, still laughing. “Sex organs Charles, for the actual act. They’re part of basic human anatomy - everyone’s got some.”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed as he nodded, and movement under his pants caught your eye - the fabric shifted and pulled until it filled out a little more - like his very skin was reshaping itself to include what you had just told him.

It was then that you realized that Charlie might be the answer to every sexual fantasy you had ever had.

---

It didn’t take much convincing to get Charlie into bed with you.

You had always known that he had had something of a puppy dog crush on you - just from the way that he hung on your every word, even when you weren’t teaching, and followed you around like a little duckling. You had stopped yourself from doing anything about it though, telling yourself that it would be wrong, that he was your student - but those sentiments had faded the more time you had spent together outside of the teaching.

They were completely gone now, as you tossed Charlie’s pants over the side of the bed. Though you were both naked as the day you were born, he was perfectly comfortable, sprawled out on the pillows like he owned the place.

“So, again,” He started. “You want me to put my dick inside you? But not detach it? And thats sex?”

“The basics of it.” You said. “Simple stuff, really. You tell me if you don’t like it though - I don’t know exactly how it’ll feel for you.”

Charlie nodded, arranging his arms underneath his head with a smile. “I am ready to sex.”

You laughed as you straddled his hips, gently wrapping a hand around his cock and aligning it with your hole, just pressing his tip against your entrance. “Promise you’ll tell me to stop if it feels bad, okay? Just because I wanted to try this doesn’t mean you have to suck it up for me.”

“Promise.” Charlie assured you. “I won’t pretend to like it just because you do- hhh.”

You sank down on his cock, reveling at the feeling - there was almost no stretch as he entered you, the slime of his body simply moving like a liquid, filling out your insides completely without having the painful stretch around your entrance. Every nerve ending in you lit up at the contact - the slime filled every space without pushing too far - Charlie’s cock had molded to you completely, hitting all your spots without even trying.

“Wow.” You breathed, placing the palms of your hands on Charlie’s chest. “This is- wow. How’re you feeling Charlie?”

Underneath you, Charlie was in a daze, eyes glazed over as he stared at some point past your shoulder. His mouth moved, but only a long string of syllables came out - more like a moan than any real words.

“Descriptors, love.” You prompted, shifting to place your hands on either side of his face.

Charlie let out a breathy whimper, his hands finding purchase on your hips, squeezing the skin there. “Good.” He said. “Very very good, uh, sort of tingly? And warm? I-I don’t really know words for it…”

You smiled, caressing his hair. “Good.” You said. It was good to know that it felt pleasurable for him - you weren’t quite sure how slime anatomy worked, and if human sex was something that he would enjoy, but now that you knew it felt as good for him as it did for you, you had no intention of holding back.

You began to rock, slowly, rolling your hips over Charlie’s and letting his cock begin to rub against your walls. Charlie’s fingers dug into your hips more as his breathing canted upwards, instinct taking over as he bucked up into you a few times. You welcomed the movement, using the momentum to fuck yourself down on him harder, savoring the feeling of him running over your nerves, lighting you up from the inside.

Charlie let out another whimper, and you leaned down to press a kiss to his lips, still keeping your hands framed gently around his face. Charlie kissed back eagerly, releasing his little whimpers and moans into your mouth now, the hands at your hips moving up to your lower back, holding on for dear life.

“You’re doing so well.” You cooed, feeling that familiar coil begin to tighten in your gut. “You’re a natural, Charlie.”

“Really?” Charlie said, a grin overtaking his features. His slimy complexion really didn’t allow for a blush, but you could see the flushed pride just in his expression.

“Really.” You gasped out as a particularly good thrust made your head spin. Your hands fell from Charlie’s face as you instead buried your face into the crook of his neck with a groan, rolling your hips down with more intensity now, chasing your orgasm. Without the painful stretch in the beginning, you were reaching it so much more quickly now - though it probably also helped that Charlie’s cock had become a perfect fill for your insides too - leaving no nerve ending spared.

“Mmmm.” Charlie tipped his head back as he moaned, lips pressing together into a thin line. “It feels different now.” He said, voice shaky. “Bigger, I think?” He tried.

“That’s supposed to happen.” You said, speeding up your thrusts, for both your sake and Charlie’s. You were getting to the brink of orgasm now, the pleasure making it’s way all the way down your legs and to your toes. It was only a moment more before you were shaking with it, the rolling of your hips slowing as you rode out your high.

Charlie groaned underneath you, tipping his head back into the pillows as the slime inside you rippled, the sensation making you moan at the strangeness of it. You hadn’t really known what his orgasm was going to look (or feel) like, but you hadn’t been expecting that.

For a moment, you just laid there, head still tucked under Charlie’s jaw as you both caught your breath, just feeling him breathe.

“That was pretty fun.” Charlie said. “It felt weird, but good weird.”

You sat up, rolling off him to sprawl out on the rest of the bed, his cock sliding out as easily as it had gone in. “Glad you liked it.” You said, letting yourself stretch out into a boneless heap. “For your first time ever, you were really good, Charlie.”

Charlie beamed at the praise, and you pressed a kiss to his cheek. You were definitely going to be doing that again.

#charlie slimecicle smut #mcyt smut #mcyt x reader #dream smp smut #dream smp x reader #charlie slimecicle x reader #slimecicle x reader #slimecicle smut #dsmp smut

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juniper-tree · 5 years

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The real flora of fake Zion

Fallout: New Vegas was a formative game for me. It gathered up and solidified a lot of disparate interests I’d had for years: desert life, survival medicine and ethnobotany (what Arcade does), being dumb and causing a ruckus.

The botany really stuck with me. Still working on the desert life. I am an herbalist but not a botanist (yet—for now I just watch Joey Santore and vibe) but plant IDing is a fun hobby. And nothing’s more fun than looking at 10 year old brown pixels and figuring out what the hell they’re supposed to be.

Continuing my “video game plants in real life” studies (here / here), and because I can’t stop myself from writing plants into my story, here’s a non-exhaustive list of the flora unique to FNV’s Zion Canyon in Honest Hearts.

Ephedra viridis (Mormon tea)

Mormon tea, as you may surmise from its scientific name, is a main source of ephedra, and it will fuck you up. This is trucker speed. As for its common name, well here’s a long post on some of the evidence for and against the idea that Mormon settlers used this as a coffee substitute. If you would like to imagine Joshua Graham and Daniel’s speed-fueled arguments carrying on into the night, I will certainly not stop you. By all accounts, it has a nice flavor.

(lots more behind cut)

Adiantum capillus-veneris (southern maidenhair fern)

Maidenhair fern clings to rock faces and overhangs in Zion, with no observable soil and sometimes very little water - a xerophyte. It tends to cluster and spread in crevices, as around the opening to Crossroad Cavern above. This fern is pretty prevalent in actual Zion, so it’s nice they included some climbing/vining vegetation to break up all the brown-red rock lumps.

Quercus gambelii (gambel oak)

The gambel oak is indigenous to Zion, and in the game—as well as in life—you’ll see it in various states of coloration: bright green, rust red, golden yellow. It’s one of two tree species to remain in post-apocalyptic Zion, which is still rather lush and green compared to the surrounding wasteland. I imagine that without significant acorn-eating (and spreading) wildlife, the oaks don’t thrive the way they might, radioactive blight aside.

Datura wrightii (sacred datura)

Boy, they did a nice job rendering the sacred datura plant, didn’t they? Datura wrightii is as presented in-game: highly toxic, known to cause hallucinations and sickness (death, really, if you are not knowledgeable and skilled in indigenous peoples’ practices with it), and grows in individual green clumps in the desert soil. A poisonous little oasis with inviting, pretty white flowers.

I will tell you that seeing sacred datura in person for the first time (in Joshua Tree) gave me that “she is too fond of video games and it has turned her brain” feeling. I wanted to lightly pluck the flowers and have them disappear into my invisible backpack. I did not.

Pinus ponderosa (ponderosa pine)

It took me many go-rounds to decide whether the in-game tree above was ponderosa pine or douglas fir. Something tells me the design was more “generic conifer” and not as true to life as it might be. I’m fairly confident I picked the right one, and anyway, the ponderosa pine is much more interesting. Brachyptera is the subspecies which grows in the Four Corners area. It can grow tall and bushy like the digital ones up there at Ranger Substation Eagle, or it can grow spindly and bent with high elevation and wind.

Did you know ponderosa pines were used to test atom bombs in Nevada? They took a bunch of pines from elsewhere, planted them at Area 5, and then kaboom. The trees largely fell over (video of test). Seems like they could have guessed that.

Artemisia filifolia (old man or sand sagebrush)

The sages in Honest Hearts are very scraggly indeed, sharp, spiky silvery white shrubs without much soft leaf or fuzz, like real ones. They look a bit more like Artemisia cana (silver sagebrush), but perhaps they’ve just become hardened like everybody else in the Wastes. The sand sagebrush has tons of documented uses among the indigenous peoples of the west, including as toilet paper.

Others!

Unlike some of my other investigations into video game plants, because this is set in a real, identifiable place I can touch with my own hands and feet, I don’t have to make real plant analogues from fictional ones. Except in the case of broc flower and xander root. The wiki suggests broc plants resemble Sphaeralcea ambigua, desert globemallows, and while the flowers bear a similarity, I do think this is quite intentionally a fictional plant with fictional properties. As is xander root—essentially, a turnip. Turnips are very good for you.

Of course, there are other plants common to the Mojave Wasteland which I’ve not covered here: Yucca baccata (datil or banana yucca), prickly pear Opuntia cacti (the ones they’ve drawn look kinda like Opuntia polyacantha but Opuntia phaeacantha would be more correct for the region), Agave utahensis (Nevada agave - var. nevadensis wouldn’t be in Zion but var. kaibabensis would so I won’t be picky, and anyway who’s to say how plants spread after 2077).

#video game flora #fallout new vegas #fnv #post-apocalyptic botany #long post

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alvsstudies · 4 years

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Existential Crises & Terror Management Theory (TMT)

⚠️ Potential triggers: existential dread, mention of death, anxiety

Note! I’m just a student who loves to learn and am by no means an expert in any way whatsoever. I can’t guarantee 100% scientific correctness. Please fact check my posts and call me out if I’m wrong! We’ll all learn more that way 🙌

Source: Cervone, D., Pervin, L.A.: Personality: Theory and Research, 14th edition

Existentialism: a quick summary

Existentialism is an extremely broad and multifaceted ism. It’s relevant in multiple different areas of human life such as religion, philosophy and psychology (albeit not mainstream academic psychology), and different existentialists emphasise different things. Some consider existentialism to be intimately tied with meaninglessness and dread while others take a more positive stance and view it in a light of optimism.

What is it then that connects all these views into one single school of thought? If we were to boil existentialism down to its core we’d get:

A will to understand our existence

Acquiring this understanding through the point of view of the individual, rather than by examining larger social structures or abstract theories

The belief that we, as conscious beings with awareness of multiple potential courses of action and outcomes, have free choice

A focus on the “phenomenological experiences [i.e. the subjective experiences of the individual] of anguish and despair” that stems from reflecting upon “alienation from the world, a loss for meaning in life, or the inevitability of death” ...or, in less academic terms ✨~existential crisis~✨

Terror management theory

Now, what role does terror management theory (TMT) play in all of this? And what is TMT? Well, in the field of psychology it’s hugely important to scientifically test things. We can’t just go about accepting a bunch of theories without proving them! TMT is a contemporary theory that seeks to experimentally test one of the cornerstones of existentialism, namely humans’ fear of death.

According to TMT humans have a biological drive to stay alive just like any other animal. However, we also have a uniquely human experience: the awareness and concept of death. TMT states that the combination of these two factors results in a sort of death anxiety, or fear of death, the increase of which is called mortality salience. So, essentially:

> will to live + inevitability of death = Yikes <

If all humans experience this anxiety, what then prevents us from going insane? Or, how do we manage this terror? This is the question TMT attempts to provide an answer to. The answer, according to the theory, might lie in our social and cultural structures - in other words in Society™️. What this insanity buffer looks like differs depending on what culture you look at, but one example is the belief in an afterlife, another a focus on the individual as part of something bigger, such as a group, a community etc. Thoughts and beliefs like these won’t get rid of the concept of death looming over us like a big, dark cloud (ain’t that a cheery image), but they can soothe the resulting anxiety. It’s like we’re bringing a bit of life with us in death, either by simply resuming life (in Heaven or through reincarnation for instance), or by having part of you live on back home through your children, or the things you did for your community, or in the memories of your loved ones.

High self esteem has been identified as another death anxiety buffer. All people are affected by mortality salience (increased death anxiety), but individuals low in self esteem even more so.

Experimental studies on mortality salience

Okay, yeah, that subheading sounds incredibly dry, but this is the interesting bit! Believe me! Because man people are weird. Or rather, brains are weird.

So far we’ve established that-

a) humans have death anxiety (not desirable, aka Yikes)

b) that anxiety is soothed by our culture (desirable, aka y e s please cure me of my existential dread)

-and from this we can now form a hypothesis:

Morality salience should lead to greater commitment toward one’s own culture (soothes death anxiety) and greater rejection toward other cultures that threaten the beliefs of one’s own (increases death anxiety). It should also increase affinity for people who share one’s beliefs and increase hostility towards those who don’t.

Multiple studies have been carried out to test this hypothesis and various methods have been applied in order to increase the test subjects’ mortality salience such as...

...having them watch a video of a lethal car crash.

...asking them to write down what they believe will happen to them when they die.

...exposing them to subliminal death primes (i.e. flashing death-related words or images before them so quickly that they don’t consciously register them but their brains still manage to process them outside of conscious awareness. How cool is that!?)

The result of these studies? In support of the hypothesis! In other words, when we are reminded of our inevitable deaths and our mortality salience increases we become more committed to our culture (and more hostile toward other cultures).

Effects that were produced as a result of increased morality salience include:

Greater number of donations to charities that benefit one’s own social groups

Increased physical aggression toward people who challenge one’s political views

Heightened sensitivity in regard to blasphemy toward cultural icons or religious symbols

Greater rejection of people from other social groups, but increased fondness for members of one’s own group

Rejection of sex when seen as a biological drive, but increased sexual interest when sex is seen as an act of love

...And that’s that! Isn’t this super interesting? I hope you learnt something together with me while reading this (hopefully not super boring) post! 🧠 Let’s get back to studying what we actually have to study now, shall we?

#existential crisis #existentialism #psychology #philosophy #religion #terror management theory #tmt #priming #anxiety #death #studyblr #psychology studyblr #philosophy studyblr #study notes

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simplybakugou · 4 years

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God is a Woman

↝ The truth of quirks and Jirou’s past life is revealed once she meets a goddess who fell in love with her.

BINGO SPACE: Deity x Human

PROMPT: “Do you really want to know?”

⋆ PAIRING: prohero!jirou ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: goddess AU (mythology); swearing ⋆ WORD COUNT: 3124

A/N: yes this is another @bnhabookclub bingo piece lol. i didn’t know how to go about this initially since i’ve never really explored god/goddess type AUs but i thought it’d be fun. thank you to the anon who requested jirou for this prompt! the transparent jirou cap is from the bnhabookclub drive!

this is also my submission for @sugacookiies 1k follower event raffle! the link to the event is here. thank you xin for hosting such a fun event and congratulations on 1k followers! if you don’t already follow xin, check out their work! you can find their masterlist here!

FULL BINGO MASTERLIST

✐posted 08.2.2020✐

Black. That was all Jirou could see as she jolted upwards, scanning her eyes around as she couldn’t recognize anything due to the pitch black room. It was as if someone had ripped the sun right from the sky and had left the world in a place of darkness. Jirou felt her chest rising and falling as her eyes darted around the space, attempting to make sense of what was going on.

The last thing she could remember was returning to her office in her agency late at night completely exhausted and as she was about to write down a report from her patrol, she ended up dozing off as her body was physically tired from her work. But here she was, in a strangely dark room without even a glimpse of light.

That is until a yellow orb appeared a few feet in front of her, acting as a saving grace for Jirou as she got up to her feet, proceeding towards the orb. Was this her way out? Dismissing the many conflicting thoughts bouncing through her head, she extended her arm out once she got closer, her hand disappearing in the light. Within seconds her whole body was swallowed up into the luminescence.

Jirou shielded her eyes with her arms as the world became intensely bright, the complete opposite of what was occurring just a few moments ago. When the light began to dim finally, Jirou peeked open one of her eyes, her body in a lying down position as her fingers grazed blades of grass.

She was now in a forest in a world that seemed a thousand times more saturated than her home in Musutafu. If a utopia were to exist, this would most certainly be one as the air felt fresher and everything seemed far better than her home. The trees stood tall as they loomed over Jirou as she stood to her feet, glancing around the wooded area.

Nonetheless, Jirou was utterly confused. Where the hell was she? How did she get there? As these thoughts muddled her mind, things took a more peculiar turn as what looked like a gust of wind with small leaves shaped into the silhouette of a little boy appeared right before her. What was supposed to be his face curled up into a smile as the small leaves making up his hand reached out for Jirou.

Even more leaves appeared behind him as they formed the words “You’re finally here… please follow me…”

The wind blew off into the other direction and Jirou’s hair flowed along with it as she was dumbfounded. Did a pile of leaves just talk to her?

Wanting to make sense of this confusion, Jirou decided to follow the boy in the wind, understanding that she had nothing to lose at the moment as she made her way to the boy.

“Um, where am I? If you can even talk…” Jirou asked, feeling silly immediately afterwards as she was quite literally talking to some leaves and a gust of wind.

Nevertheless the boy looked back at Jirou and another swarm of leaves formulated into more words. “You’re back in the Kingdom of Musutafu.”

“‘Back?’ How can I be back to a place I’ve never been to?” Jirou asked, her confusion continuing to grow. “And ‘the Kingdom of Musutafu?’ Musutafu’s a city.”

“Your answers will be answered by her,” the boy ‘said’ with his leaves. The wind stopped and the leaves levitated in the air as Jirou was led to a field of sunflowers, the yellow petals absorbing the brightness in the air.

Jirou turned to the makeshift boy only for the leaves to fall onto the floor. Jirou sighed, not understanding what on earth was going on at the moment before she turned around once again to face the field.

The sight was beautiful. Amongst the beauty stood a woman with her back facing Jirou. As if on cue, the woman turned around and Jirou nearly choked on her breath. She was stunning, absolutely breathtaking. Her beauty was almost bewitching as she was easily the most attractive person Jirou had ever seen. The orb from the darkness Jirou was engulfed in earlier was glowing around her body in a similar manner and light. The woman’s body was adorned in the most expensive jewels and she had a silk gown on as well.

Your eyes locked onto Jirou’s and tears immediately began to fill up as you took a step towards her. You embraced her into a tight hug once you were in front of her. “I’ve missed you, Kyouka.”

Jirou stood rigid in place, perplexed beyond a reasonable doubt. Nevertheless she patted your back, feeling a bit awkward at the moment as she had to comfort this strange woman who happened to know who she was.

You pulled away, caressing Jirou’s face lovingly as you smiled at her. Jirou’s heart began beating against her chest as her attraction to you only grew the more she looked at you. “Not a day passed where I wasn’t thinking of you.”

“Yeah, t-that’s nice of you but who are you? Am I supposed to know who you are?” Jirou asked, wanting her many questions to be answered for once.

You brought a sleeve from your gown up, dabbing at your tears. “Right, I apologize. My name is Y/N. I understand this might be mind boggling for you but you’re not at home in Musutafu anymore.”

“Then where am I?” Jirou questioned, glancing around the field once again. “The last thing I can remember is being at my office after a patrol and now… I feel like I’m in a different world.”

You listened to her with fondness, thankful that you were in her presence finally. Just as you were going to begin your long story and inform her of her whereabouts, you could hear shuffling from the forest surrounding the field where Jirou had followed the wind-leaf boy. You grabbed Jirou’s hand, pulling her down to the floor as you both ducked down into the stems of the sunflowers. The shuffling sound of footsteps only grew louder and louder and Jirou was able to put two and two together, understanding that whoever these people were, they were not good news for either of you.

You both could hear the mumbling of two male voices before their voices faded out, indicating that they had left. You lifted your head slightly, peeking over to check if they had actually left. You let out a sigh in relief once realizing they had actually gone and you stood back up.

“Who were those guys?” Jirou asked, peering over into the direction of the woods.

You held her hand in yours as you looked at her directly in her eyes. “Do you really want to know? The information that I will tell you could change your life forever and if you would like to return back home, I will let you do so immediately.

Jirou paused for a moment, taking your words into consideration. If she were to be frank, the minute she set foot into this odd place she wanted all of her buzzing questions to be answered as soon as possible. On top of that, you were intriguing so she already knew her answer as she nodded.

“There’s no easy way to explain this. This world you’re in now is a separate universe to your life on Earth and in Musutafu.”

I’m sorry… what? Jirou thought to herself. Obviously different universes existed scientifically but to hear that she had met a being from another universe was insane. You watched Jirou’s expression carefully as you could see the visible confusion going on in her head through her face.

“This universe we’re in right now is the Kingdom of Musutafu. I am a goddess, the goddess of love and beauty to be precise, living in this world.” You gestured to the skies and the apparent difference in the human world. There was no way this place was similar to Jirou’s home on Earth so as skeptical as she was, she knew you weren’t lying or trying to deceive her. “My father is the god of creation and is the supreme ruler of Musutafu. A few years ago he approached me with the idea of marrying another god here, one who was powerful and who he claimed could take care of me.”

You chuckled as you reminisced on the memory. “What he didn’t know was that I had no intention of marrying a god and so I put some physical distance between my father and I so that he wouldn’t continue to pester me.”

“In my freetime I became… fond of something else. Well… someone else.” You glanced over to Jirou with the same smile before taking a step to the side and crouching down to the floor. You extended a hand to the ground, moving your fingers into a circular motion and right before Jirou’s eyes, the ground turned into a glasslike substance. Through the glass, to Jirou’s astonishment, she could see her house from this magnifying glass like thing. From this distance she recognized numerous people as they were walking, noticing her friends Kirishima and Yaoyorozu who were put in a patrol together as they worked alongside each other.

“This is your Musutafu, correct?” You asked, looking up as Jirou knelt down beside you, watching through the glass in amazement.

“Y-Yes… but how…?” Jirou’s voice faded off as she tried to make sense of this.

You sat on your bottom as you continued your story. “Your Musutafu and my Musutafu were once one in the past. We were divided as the skies belonged to the gods and the ground below was where the humans resided. We could see the humans from the sky and in the past humans weren’t given quirks. They simply prayed to us when they wished for something or needed protection from something in which we granted them this.”

“During one of those instances in which I was avoiding my father, I would look down to the humans and watch them. Your kind fascinated me and they still do and one day I laid my eyes on you.” You glanced over to her, moving your hand to touch hers. “You were a young woman in what seemed to be a musical ensemble. From time to time I’d tune in and listen to your music. It was quite interesting.”

“I was in a band?” Jirou asked, curious as to what her life in this past was.

You nodded. “You were amazing, too. And one day we made eye contact and it terrified me. You see, humans cannot physically see deities but you somehow saw me.”

***

You felt your whole body tense up as the mysterious human met your eyes. You hid behind the clouds from the human’s line of vision.

Jirou tilted her head, raising a brow. “Um, hello? Is someone out there?”

How could she see you? She was a mere human and yet she could see you. You peeked over and Jirou raised a hand up to wave at you, assuming that you were afraid of her.

“What’re you looking at?” One of Jirou’s bandmates asked.

“I swear I saw a lady over there,” Jirou said, nodding up to the sky where you resided.

“There’s literally no one there. I think you need a break, these concerts must be getting to your head,” they joked.

They walked away and Jirou was bewildered. How couldn’t they see you right there? Jirou shook her head as she assumed she was simply sleep deprived due to her tour.

You watched, intrigued yet frightened by the human as Jirou ran back inside to the venue she was performing at. You waited patiently, watching and listening to the band play a few of their original songs. This was foreign for you as you had grown accustomed to the various classical music that would be played amongst the gods. That kind of music never interested you and you hummed along to the human’s strangely satisfying tunes.

The show was finally over and you clapped along with the human audience. You looked around, making sure there wasn’t anyone around as you used your powers to be presentable for a human’s standards as you stepped down onto ground. You stood outside the venue, waving to Jirou once you saw her. You played things off saying that you were actually on the ground and not in the sky as “that was impossible.”

In that moment you gushed to her how much you adored her music and how you were a fan. Jirou appreciated your admiration and quickly the two of you became fond of one another. Like that this became a routine for you and Jirou and slowly you opened up to her the more you saw her and trusted her, informing Jirou of the existence of gods and especially emphasizing that it was crucial that no other human found out about her.

During one of your routine hangouts, you made the unfortunate decision to bring her up to the skies where you both professed your feelings for one another. In the midst of this, one of your father’s lackeys saw you holding each other and ratted you out to him.

Your father immediately confronted you, absolutely enraged by what he had heard. “You will be married to a god right this instant. I will not allow you to conduct such tomfoolery in the eyes of the gods.”

“I am in love with a woman, father. I love women, not men or gods. I refuse to let my being be taken care of by a god as I am fine on my own.”

Your father infuriated, not believing the utter garbage that was spewing from his only daughter’s lips. Just as he was about to ensue a punishment unto you, you managed to flee as you knew your father well enough to predict his actions.

You moved as fast as you could and found Jirou who was waiting for you in your usual spot. “Kyouka! I love you so dearly but you must escape at once! Otherwise my father will hurt you!”

Jirou professed her love once again, expressing how she wouldn’t leave you as she loved you too much. You smiled sadly at her, cupping her face as you brought your lips to hers momentarily before gently setting her back onto the ground. Jirou could only watch in horror as your father pulled you away from the skies, her heart shattering as you vanished.

From that moment as a means of punishing you for falling in love with a human, your father used his godly powers to separate the human world from coexisting with the gods, creating an entire universe where humans could live. In order to make sure they wouldn’t have to rely on the gods anymore for help, your father granted them powers: quirks. These quirks allowed them to fend for themselves.

In the process he removed Jirou’s memories of the times you spent with her and the humans lived an entirely different life than their previous ones. Jirou went from being a young woman travelling from city to city with her band to a pro hero saving civilians who couldn’t save themselves with her quirk.

***

“That was what happened, my dear Kyouka.” You turned to face her, feeling a tug in your chest as you saw tears welling in her eyes.

“Y/N…” Jirou whimpered. The memories of her past life came rushing to her mind as she recognized you, the goddess she had fallen desperately in love with.

You were relieved even though you knew any human would remember their past life if a deity informed them of it. Even so, you were doubting yourself as you missed your lover terribly.

You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, holding each other in your arms. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. This was all my fault.”

You pulled away, rubbing away Jirou’s tears with your thumb. “Absolutely not. You did nothing wrong, Kyouka. I saved up my powers for this moment and I managed to steal you away from your slumber.”

Jirou rubbed her eyes as she glanced around, weary of who could be listening. “What should we do now?”

“I knew for the longest time once I realized my feelings for you were pure that we could never live here amongst the gods. They judge so easily and it wouldn’t be safe for you.” You caressed her face gingerly, your touch causing Jirou to blush. “I will give up my godliness to be a regular human and live with you in your world, Kyouka.”

Jirou’s eyes widened. “Y/N, that’s too dangerous! You can’t just give up your powers like that! Why would you even want to be a regular human when you’re a goddess?”

You shook your head. “None of this is worth it if I can’t live beside you.”

Before Jirou could convince you even further, your hand disappeared into your chest as you pulled out the orb of life from inside you, the energy source that made you a goddess and gave you your extraterrestrial powers. You simply tossed it to the side and Jirou watched as your features softened from your deity form into an ordinary human like Jirou.

Living in this new quirk filled society would make you quirkless but you did not care about that as you reached a hand out to Jirou. She held onto you, giving your hand a squeeze. “How do we get out of here?”

“My father’s an infuriating man and he gave you the power to get me out of this world as he assumed our paths would never cross again.” You pointed to Jirou’s earphone jacks.

Jirou smiled as she used her earphone jack to pierce through the magnifying glass on the floor, shattering the area. You took a step forward with Jirou following suit as you both entered Jirou’s humanly world.

This new life you were going into terrified you. You were going to live amongst beings that you had only watched from above. Regardless of this fear, you refused to be shackled by your father, wanting to live with the one woman you had fallen in love with. Hearing about the masculinity of the gods from the other goddesses as they went on about how attractive their features were repulsing to you. The femininity of women and they’re beauty intrigued you. Men and gods alike were overrated.

In her past life Jirou never relied on the gods, initially not believing in any of them. But now she knew one thing for certain: god is a woman… and that woman was you.

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microcos-pod · 3 years

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Micro-Cosmos S1E7 Transcript: Miraculously Misplaced

(“Hello world. This is Chronicling Log One, of Doctor Felix Augustine Couvillion.” CONTENT WARNINGS: yelling, peril, brief claustrophobia, mentions of unreality, paranoia, and the fear of going insane. Transcript begins below break.)

[THEME MUSIC PLAYS]

ANNOUNCER Futuristic Trail Mix Productions presents Micro-Cosmos: A Science Fiction Podcast.

[THEME MUSIC FADES OUT]

*** [sfx: external storm ambiance echoing through the cave, button press]

FELIX Um... hello world. This...This is Chronicling Log One, of Doctor Felix Augustine Couvillion. I am the science officer on duty with Omnitarian Establishment Crew, erm... zero three... no, we're um...

Zero-one-three-seven-F. Yes. It says so right here.

You'll have to forgive me. Ordinarily, when I make these recordings, they're for my own notes, or for my scientific peers. I am not used to simply... documenting the goings-on, especially... my goings-on... when confined to a cave.

According to Athena, this is for a chronicling protocol called a Code Drag. It refers to, if memory serves, a distress situation without a contingency that, at present, makes mission objectives impossible to complete. That is to say, we have been "dragged" off course. There is no contingency plan for a cinderburst. Cal says they're too rare to even warrant such a thing, nor is there enough research to determine how one could occur here. If these storms supposed to be characteristic of desert terrain, however, I would say Ophiuchus is hardly a suitable candidate. Not that I can research such a claim when I have no signal to reach any external databases that could be of help. No, that would be too easy.

Instead of that, what I do is I sit inside of a cave, talking to myself, and try to avoid going... slightly mad. If I wasn't there already, of course. I wonder how Athena manages it.

For the sake of my friend, however, I am sucking it up and beginning with these entries. I've been procrastinating for long enough, so, I will see to it that I make this log faithful to its purpose, and as honest as I can manage. I'll start with a caution, though. This cave is dull, even considering what you would expect from a cave, namely: not much. For that reason, I'm afraid I cannot guarantee you anything riveting, my dear listener. Consider yourself to be warned.

So, I hear you ask me: What have I, Doctor Felix Couvillion, been up to, now that myself and my friends have spent about... oh, a day and a half inside a damp, cavernous lair of darkness? You ask me, 'Felix, what are the Tales from the Tunnels? The Stories from the Stones? The Accounts of'... a, a, um... a cave. The cave, which I'm sure I will have memorised every vein of by the time daylight decides to reappear.

In short, I've been working. Making note of the vegetation in here, and how it might help us. I've found a new variant of fruit-bearing vine, actually. Edible. Similar to a terran gooseberry. It will make for a decent snack, once my trail mix finally runs out. A sad day, that will be. Somehow I don't find this discovery as exciting as I should. The Commander, she tries hard to keep our morale afloat, but... you know. It hasn't been long, and somehow, I already feel as though we are... contained. Stuck in some version of a time capsule, and... preserved until the next moment we are meant for is to resume.

[Felix sighs.]

FELIX (CONT'D) There's no wildlife in here, as of yet. No water either. That makes sense, on paper. The fact of the matter is that carbon-based animal life needs water. Including us. In a worst case scenario, our current water supply wouldn't last us. So, I either solve this problem, or we all slowly die of dehydration, sucking the juice out of vine berries as a last ditch attempt to survive. Yeesh. Not a pretty picture, hm?

Which is why I will make my third trek to scout a potable water source this afternoon. If I'm able to find room in my busy schedule Oh! In between my rounds, though, I have found something to pass the time-He stops again. This is... what a chronicling log is for, yes? Cataloguing however our time is spent inside an unavoidable disaster?

Sure it is. Anyways. I have... wait for it... I have rediscovered my love for card tricks! And I can still manage to do them, too. It's like it never left me, in a way. Like riding a bike for the mind. Or, as Morgan once put it, riding a bike for nerds. Here, I'll show you. ...You can’t see me. Dammit. Well, let's try it like this, then. Were you here, dear listener, you would shuffle the deck. You would pick a card, only in your mind. And then, you'd give the deck back to me, and after a series of convoluted detours through what seems like a magical process, the card would end up in your pocket, a place it certainly shouldn't be. Ta da! Okay, okay, a magician shouldn't reveal his tricks, I know. But I can't contain myself, so I'll give you a tidbit. I forced a card on you, at the start. You thought it was your choice. It wasn't. It was, likely, the Ace of Dishes. Good card. I'm fond of it. It's an interesting thing, that trick. According to the logical part of your brain, the card should be in the deck, with the rest of its friends. It’s family, if you will. Your eyes told you it should be there, and so of course, you're expecting it to be there. Or were you? That card, from the second you or I chose it, when you saw it, and we convinced each other that it was special, or different, the, hm... well, the zeitgeist of the situation told you that by the end of the trick... that card wasn't going to be in it's rightful place. It wasn't going to be like all the others. It was going to be... miraculously misplaced. In reality, the misdirection relies on both expectations. It needs the voice of reason, and the voice of the little child inside your brain that really really really wants magic to be real, just so it can stir a whit of joy. In my experience, though, most things in life that are misplaced from where they belong, it's... not a good situation. Take our example. One looks down at the flowers for a moment, giving the storm just enough time to sneak up and tap him on the shoulder, and... Abracadabra. Misdirected... misplaced from mission objectives. This kind of thing... does not bring much joy, does it? That's my insight, anyways. And that's about as much as I can fill a Chronicling Log with, for now. I'm going to check up with the others. Um, Doctor Felix Augustine Couvillion, ending Log One.

[sfx: button click]

***

ATHENA ... That's a dog?

MILES Yeah. It's supposed to be! Like... bark?

ALEX Sorry, I... honestly thought it was supposed to be a sock puppet.

MILES Sock puppets don't have ears!

ATHENA ...An ear?

ALEX That's an ear?

ATHENA I mean I figured it was an animal of some kind, but-

MILES I never claimed to be good at shadow puppets, okay?

C41 Clearly.

MILES Cal, you don't have tangible hands, you don't get an opinion.

C41 At least I know that dogs aren't that long.

[sfx: approaching footsteps]

ALEX Yeah, actually, kinda... looks like that little cat thing that bit Felix.

FELIX It was a spray, not a bite. That makes it sound a lot more gross, actually.

[Alex claps her hands.]

ALEX Nice to see the party's finally here!

FELIX Hm? "Party"? That's new.

ALEX Did you bring the deck of cards?

FELIX Of course.

ALEX Then you're the party.

[Felix laughs.]

ALEX (CONT'D) Where've you been?

FELIX Recording my first chronicling log. I figured an update on my perspective was in order.

ATHENA Oh, good, thank you. How'd it go?

FELIX Um... well, I think. A bit meandering, maybe. Not anything special.

ATHENA Honestly, however they end up going is fine. It's just a matter of getting an account from everyone of how they're doing and what's going on. That's all I really have to do, most of the time. You'd be surprised how useful a ramble is when you have it on file. What did you meander about?

FELIX Oh just... you know. Something that I've been brushing up on. Here, I'll show you, actually.

MILES Sure, just share your talents with the class I guess.

C41 This should be interesting.

[sfx: unboxing and shuffling playing cards]

MILES What is this?

FELIX It's a card trick.

MILES A card trick...

FELIX Correct. Can I have a volunteer?

[Athena, Alex and C41 respond positively.]

FELIX (CONT'D) Miles, thank you, so kind of you to volunteer.

MILES My hand was not up.

FELIX Here, shuffle these.

MILES Ugh. Fine.

[sfx: cards shuffling]

FELIX No, don't give them to me! That's against the rules.

MILES Oookay. I'll keep em.

FELIX You're thinking of a particular one, I can tell.

MILES Uh... sure. Six of stars?

FELIX No, no, that's not it. Come on, this one only works if we convince each other that it's going to work. It was a low card, something... special.

MILES Low, and... special? Like an Ace?

FELIX It was an Ace?

MILES Yeah. Yeah, an Ace.

FELIX But not the Ace of Stars? We've got Planets, Comets, Dishes and Stars, but... How about you pick two of those, Officer Abbott?

MILES Dishes and Stars.

FELIX We'll keep the Dishes and the Stars then, and get rid of the other two. But it wasn't Stars, so the Ace of Dishes, then?

MILES Yeah.

FELIX The Ace of Dishes was the first card that came to mind, you're sure?

MILES Yeah.

FELIX Perfect. Athena, could you pick a number for me? It could be anywhere between, er... one to ten.

ATHENA Seven.

FELIX Seven. Very well. Miles, can I have the deck back?

MILES Oh, that's allowed now?

FELIX Of course, don't be silly. Now, I'm going to pull seven cards off the top of this deck that Miles shuffled and, well... we'll see what happens.

[sfx: cards being drawn from the deck]

FELIX (CONT'D) One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Oh... dear, that's not it.

MILES Jack of Comets. Figured it wouldn't-

FELIX Indeed. Wait, Miles, what's that?

MILES What's what?

FELIX In your shirt pocket.

[sfx: an emphatic rustling and card flip.

FELIX This?

MILES The... Ace... of Dishes. Wait.

[Athena applauds.]

[Alex laughs.]

ALEX Hey now, how the hell did you do that?

FELIX Ah, ah. Magicians. Secrets. You know the rules.

ALEX I bet Cal knows.

C41 I have... an idea or two, but I'm not exactly sure, really. Nice job.

FELIX Thank you.

MILES I don't know how you did that. I am going to find out how you did that.

[sfx: lots of movement]

[Indistuguishable frenzied comments from the crew.]

***

[sfx: echoing footsteps, very distant external storm ambiance.]

[sfx: button click.]

FELIX Doctor Felix Augustine Couvillion. Recording Chronicling Log... Two, I suppose. Though it hasn't been long.

I had to escape from Miles's endless, somewhat terrifying questions. I fear those will be a common occurrence from this point on.

Anywho. I am currently... well, I don't know exactly where I am. My analog compass says I am southeast of our campsite, which is just outside the entrance to the tunnel system. But, I'm not so sure. You would think this little gadget would be unaffected by the storm, but the cinderbust seems to be acting on all of our other equipment as if it were somehow a geomagnetic storm. This, of course, may mean it is confusing the compass needle as well.

So I'm not sure I can trust in that bearing. What I do know is, I took a left. So at least I have that to go on.

I did promise the Commander that I wouldn't stray too far from the camp when I'm alone. But I'm not alone. I'm on the hunt for a source of water, and I'm taking you, whoever will listen to this, with me for the journey. So technically, I'm keeping my promise, while getting results. Hopefully. Hopefully getting results. It isn't like I have any real reason to be concerned about my safety. Like I had mentioned, there have been no encounters with wildlife as of yet. Then again, I've been wrong before. It would be just my luck to end up being wrong again. But, I survived Mercutio, ergo, I could likely survive anything. The little devil.

[sfx: flashlight clicks on]

FELIX (CONT'D) Let there be light.

Ah. It appears we've reached a choice to make. Hm. Left... or... right. I'd rather not go in a circle. Right it is.

Left, then right. Left, then right. Left then... right. Okay.

So, anyways. I hadn't had any previous luck taking a right initially, where I first chose to go left. My left. Not... upon return- never mind. I know what I mean. I hadn't gone too far that way, in any case.

Only today did I figure out the loophole in my promise, and... in terms of balancing my very busy schedule, I figure that it's best not to spend all my time fretting over dehydration. Going prematurely mad is not in my plans.

There are some interesting mineral formations on the ceiling. It may be worth taking a sample to submit on my way back. They're a sort of bluish-white, and they seem to form in hexagonal clusters, about three to four centimetres in length. Quite pretty. Pretty enough to understand the appeal of geology, if only for a moment. No offence to geologists, of course.

No luminescence is visible from the formations. My torch is the only current source of light. I suppose luminescence would have been too much to hope for. It is... rather dark, this way. Miles wouldn't like it. I don't think Miles likes many things, come to think of it. There's a grumpy individual if you ever did see one. But, a decent traveling companion when the mood strikes them-

[sfx: walking stops]

FELIX (CONT'D) Dead end. Hm. I'll make a mental note.

[sfx: footsteps resume]

FELIX (CONT'D) That's annoying. Back the way we came, then.

It might have done me good to bring Cal along. Most of their functions may be, er, rusty, at present, but they still have the sensors for these sort of things. Or perhaps I should have brought the Commander. Navigations, and all. Eh. I'm still not too far. And I have you, don't I, my trusty comms friend?

Even if you're not one for conversation. The brooding type. Strong and silent. I can work with that. And I can be fairly sure that I'm-

[sfx: footsteps stop suddenly]

FELIX (CONT'D) What?

[A long silence.]

[Felix swallows and chuckles nervously.]

FELIX (CONT'D) Well. I... must not have been paying attention as well as I'd thought.

I've just... I've just come up against another dead end. Where I thought... no, where the entrance to this passage should be. Where... where it just... was.

It can't have just... filled behind me. I would have heard the crash.

Right?

Same tunnel. Same... crystals. Perhaps a bit more on the indigo side that I had originally noticed. No more, or, um, less lacking luminescence.

Alright, er... Perhaps I took a turn and passed it. I'll retrace... my steps. What you're looking for is always in the last place you check, right?

[sfx: footsteps]

[Felix breathes shakily.]

[sfx: sound of distant running water fades in]

FELIX (CONT'D) Do you... do you hear that? That sounds like...

[sfx: the water sound recedes, replaced by storm ambiance]

FELIX (CONT'D) Sounds like... wishful thinking.

No, I could've sworn. I could have sworn. I'm not mad. I'm not.

FELIX (CONT'D) Don't you look at me like that. You're a bundle of wires and metal. You're not capable of going mad, only getting broken.

I... I wonder which is worse.

[sfx: a draft blowing in from the right side]

FELIX (CONT'D) Well. I... hadn't noticed that before. There's an offshoot path here, in between... I suppose in between dead ends. It must... it would have to lead deeper into the cave. I can't... This doesn't make any sense.

[Felix struggles to look inside the narrow path.]

FELIX (CONT'D) I can't make out anything inside. Very dark, but... But there's a draft. Meaning... it must lead outside. No daylight, however.

Well, of course there's no daylight, Felix. Remember why you're here in the first place.

[sfx: the draft stops unnaturally abruptly]

FELIX (CONT'D) Well, that doesn't make any sense, now does it?

The wind from the passage seems to have... turned off. Just... just like that.

I should just go back the way I came. Yes. That's what I should do.

[sfx: the sound of running water resumes]

FELIX (CONT'D) Wait... is... am I hearing that right...?

Not right now, thank you. I could do without the difficult decision.

Fine. Fine! Fine then, I'll just...

[He struggles further to get inside the path, with a few laboured mutterings.]

[Felix pants.]

[sfx: water droplets hitting the ground.]

FELIX (CONT'D) Yahtzee.

[sfx; unscrewing a thermos, letting water drip inside]

FELIX (CONT'D) I'll have to ensure this is potable, first. Or if I can make it potable. I'm sure it will be fine... Either way this is a good sign for our continued survival.

[sfx: extremely loud shifting of rock]

FELIX (CONT'D) What in the... What was that?

I've got enough of this to test but... The only problem is, I don't know that I could find it again. I... almost certainly don't know where I am.

[sfx: another creaking shift of rock]

[Felix gasps and exclaims.]

FELIX (CONT'D) What... I'm sorry, I just... felt a shift there, it startled me.

There's obviously an explanation for this but... I don't think I'm in any state to continue this trip. I need... I need to get back to camp.

[sfx: footsteps resume]

FELIX (CONT'D) Next time, if I ever come back this way, I'm bringing someone with me.

[sfx: running water fades out]

FELIX (CONT'D) Wait, uh... where... but I had just looked through...

I can't see that passage anymore. Where I got the water. Can you?

Of course you can't. I'm talking to myself. I bet no one will ever even listen to these. It isn't as if you care. You let this happen in the first place, sent us somewhere new without contingencies, and I'll bet you still don't feel responsible.

It's there. You can't see it from this angle, but it's there, you just can't see it in the dark.

[sfx: extremely loud stone creaking and moving]

FELIX (CONT'D) I need to go. I need to... I need to leave.

[sfx: running footsteps]

[Felix pants.]

[sfx: footsteps slow and stop]

FELIX (CONT'D) Left or... right? I swear, this doesn't... what was that goddamn sound?!

No. No, you shouldn't hear this. Am I transmitting, or... is this a recording-

[sfx: comms click]

***

[sfx: comms click]

ATHENA -were just looking for you.

FELIX I know, I know, I lost track of time-

ATHENA Alex was worried sick, we thought we heard you yell-

FELIX Well, that's very kind of her, but I-

ATHENA Felix... are you okay? Did something-

FELIX I'm fine.

ATHENA Okay.

Next time, maybe, take one of us with you. Or at least tell us when you'll be back.

FELIX Sure, sure. In any case, it was a success.

[sfx: unscrewing a thermos]

FELIX (CONT'D) Water. Fresh. Hopefully potable.

ATHENA That's great! That's a relief. Okay. Where did you find it?

FELIX Oh. Heh. Funny you should ask, actually.

ATHENA Oh?

FELIX Yes, I... see I was fine, but along the way I got a little... lost, it wasn't anything to be concerned about, but... I may have a little trouble finding it again.

ATHENA Oh.

FELIX Ah, but, don't worry.

I kept the recorder running.

ATHENA Uh... well, that's good. It definitely makes my job a lot easier.

FELIX Well, yes, and I... wasn't alone.

ATHENA Right.

FELIX And! And, perhaps if I give this a listen, it would help me figure where I got turned around. Nothing a second journey won't fix.

ATHENA Not alone this time.

FELIX Not alone the first time because I personified my comms but... yes I see your point.

ATHENA Well, let's give it a listen, then.

FELIX Okay. Okay, okay, okay.

[sfx: button pressing]

FELIX (CONT'D) It should be my most recent... input, let's see here. Ah. There.

[sfx: button press]

RECORDING FELIX Doctor Felix Augustine Couvillion. Recording Chronicling Log... Two, I suppose. Though it hasn't been long.

[sfx: a sudden click, lasting static]

ATHENA Um, Felix?

FELIX ...Yes?

ATHENA Was that the end of the recording?

FELIX No. Definitely not.

ATHENA Then why... did you stop talking?

FELIX I didn't stop talking, I kept it running the whole time, I only turned it off just before I saw you!

ATHENA Something must have happened, then. Can I see it?

FELIX Sure, sure.

ATHENA It doesn't look like a corrupted file, in fact, everything seems to be working fine. Out here, at least.

Maybe the storm messed with your comms too, somehow. Or maybe... maybe there's some good conductors in the stone too, deeper in the cave, that could have thrown off your signal, or...

FELIX Or it could have been my own fault.

ATHENA It happens to the best of us, Felix.

FELIX Well, finding that source again just got infinitely harder, didn't it?

ATHENA Maybe? I don't know. Either way, we have time before that search becomes urgent, and, at least we know it exists. Hopefully we never really have to worry about it at all.

FELIX That doesn't make it any less frustrating, though, does it?

ATHENA Well, technology is wonderful, when it works. I appreciate the fact that you were recording anything for me at all, I know that code protocol can be a pain.

FELIX Well, strange as it sounds, I'm glad these protocols exist. It makes it seem like an effort is being made to keep things sorted, I suppose.

ATHENA Keeping our ducks in a row?

FELIX Precisely.

ATHENA Well, I can only hope. I've never had to run a crew-wide chronicling operation before outside of a drill. I was hoping I would never have to.

FELIX One narrator of this comedy of errors should have been enough?

ATHENA Precisely.

Anyways, do you want to head back to camp now? Everyone will want to know you're alright.

FELIX They were really worried?

ATHENA Of course they were. Alex wants her ducks in a row, too. An odd one out wouldn't be good for us.

FELIX Like an Ace of Dishes.

ATHENA Only, we were pretty sure you weren't in Miles's pocket.

[Both laugh.]

ATHENA (CONT'D) Here.

[sfx: footsteps]

ATHENA (CONT'D) This way.

***

FELIX Chronicling Log of Doctor Felix Augustine Couvillion, third part.

It's past evening now, into the night. I think the others have gone to bed. Yet, it appears that I can't sleep. Something about today unnerved me. There is no explanation for my confusion, except my own anxieties, my paranoia, what have you. I know that.

I know that in the same way I know that the walls of a cave don't move around you. Not unless you are very patient, dead, or mad.

In my case, the jury is still out on the latter.

A planet isn't conscious, it isn't sentient, it shouldn't know who I am.

And yet, there's nothing left of that recording to even tell you what I mean. All that's left is how I remember it, and that perturbs me.

Here's the thing: I can tell myself that I lost my way in a dead end simply because I am afraid of what happens when I turn my back. But if I deem that fear a sound rationalization... then I may have something to evaluate. A time of soul-searching, hopefully. In the company of a snack.

ALEX Yikes. Deep. Make sure you have your coffee first.

FELIX Commander! Where did- I'm sorry, I thought you were asleep with the others, did I wake you-

[Alex laughs quietly.]

ALEX Shh, shhh! Athena and Miles are still asleep, I was just... I was... never mind.

[sfx: Alex sits down.]

ALEX (CONT'D) You recording?

FELIX Er, yes. As redundant as it may seem.

ALEX Redundant?

FELIX Yes. Just between you and me, boss? I doubt anyone will ever listen to these.

ALEX You really think so?

FELIX The good folks back at headquarters tend to overindulge on bureaucracy. Efficiency is prioritised to the detriment of efficiency.

Perhaps the duty will be passed on to an Artificial Intelligence like our friend. I suppose that works just as well.

ALEX There's the silver lining I was waiting for.

FELIX Oh, don't rely on me for that.

ALEX Why not? It's worked so far.

Case and point: that card trick was probably the silver lining of my day. And I still have no idea how you did it.

FELIX Really?

ALEX Really. No clue. Unless Miles was in on it, but I seriously doubt that.

FELIX I can show you.

ALEX Yeah?

[sfx: rustling through a bag, cards rustling, flipping and shuffling]

FELIX Certainly.

Now, the first thing is, Miles didn't pick the Ace of Dishes. I did. And then I convinced them that they did. And convincing Miles Abbott of something is probably the hardest part of any trick, so if you can manage that... this next part is quite easy.

ALEX The next part is the actual trick, you mean.

FELIX The convincing is the trick. If you can't even convince yourself that you can do it, make a card do something miraculous, how are you going to convince the people watching?

ALEX Good point. Teach me.

FELIX Very well. So it looks like this, when we actually do it. Pulling it out of a pocket.

[sfx: card flick]

FELIX (CONT’D) But really, we're just folding the card behind quickly as you flick it off the bottom of the pack, like that, and then... you cup it into your palm when you reach out. It never leaves your hand.

[sfx: the same card flick, but slower]

[sfx: a card sliding]

ALEX Oh. Ohhhhh, okay! Gimme one.

[Felix laughs.]

[sfx: passing Alex a card.]

FELIX Give it a try.

ALEX Okay... so... take it from the bottom of the... deck, and then-

[sfx: a similar card flick, a similar card slide]

ALEX (CONT’D) Like that?

FELIX Yes. Exactly.

ALEX Alright. Alright, okay. So... from here...

[sfx: a quick card flick, a quick card slide]

ALEX Like that?

FELIX Ha! You picked that up quickly, sir.

[sfx: repeated flick and slide of the card performed by Alex]

ALEX I can do more than play Go Fish, Couvillion.

FELIX That's for certain. It's double trouble for the rest of the crew, in any case. Two magicians are better than one, you know.

[sfx: card sounds stop]

ALEX Oh, man. Miles is going to hate this.

***

ANNOUNCER Micro-Cosmos: A Science Fiction Podcast.

This episode, Miraculously Misplaced, was written by Lauren Tucker, edited by Luka Miller, and directed by Jesse Smith and Lauren Tucker. It starred Jesse Smith as the voice of Athena Romero, Jackson Rossman as the voice of Miles Abbott, Luka Miller as the voice of Alex de la Cruz, Kaleb Piper as the voice of Felix Couvillion, and Pippa van Beek-Paterson as the voice of Cal. Original music by Julia Barnes, and sound editing by Tobias Friedman. Be sure to stay tuned to our feed for upcoming episodes from the new backpacking intergalactic adventure from Futuristic Trail Mix Productions. Enjoying the show, and want to give us a boost? You can support us by rating and reviewing us on iTunes, or wherever you get your podcasts, or telling a friend about us. To follow the show and find transcripts, you can find us on Twitter, Tumblr, and Instagram as @MicroCosPod. Questions, comments, and concerns can be emailed to us via [email protected]. Thank you for listening. ***

#Microcosmos #micro-cosmos #microcos pod #micro-cosmos podcast #microcospod #new podcast #newpodcast #podcast #scifi #scifipodcast #science fiction #science fiction podcast #Podcast Recommendations

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scoopsgf · 5 years

Note

34!!!!!!

34. “You work for me. You are my slave.”

“Coffee.”

Peter jumps and looks up from the nanite prototype he’d been so carefully piecing together. As a result, the pieces break apart and fly in different directions. That’s hours of work undone.

“What?”

“I need it,” Tony says. He hasn’t even noticed the mess Peter’s made, much less looked over. It’s the first time either of them have spoken to each other in… god, what time is it?

Peter checks his watch. “It’s two in the morning!”

Tony finally raises his eyes. “Problem?”

“It’s two in the morning.”

“We’ve established this.”

“And you want coffee?”

“Correction: I need coffee. There’s a difference.”

Peter takes a deep breath. “Mr Stark.”

Tony winces. “Jeez, you sound just like a mid-2000s Pepper when you say it like that, you know? Gives me the creeps.”

“If she were here, she’d agree with me.”

“Agree with you on what? You haven’t exactly argued your case here, kid.”

“My case? My case.” Peter shakes his head and begins the taxing process of plucking up his rogue nanobites. “My case is that it’s way too late for caffeine. Like, there are probably scientific studies on this. I bet. Maybe. I mean, there’s no way it doesn’t mess with your sleep cycle—”

“Sleep cycle.” Tony snorts. “Kid, I close my eyes and sometimes time passes, sometimes I just lay there. There’s no method. There’s nothing to disrupt here. So!” He claps his hands together. “I’m thinking something hot, something Belgian—”

“And does it matter what I’m thinking?”

“Uh, no. Why would it? You work for me. You’re my slave.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “I don’t actually work for you. The internship is just a front.”

“Is it? Is that what this looks like? You crouched on the floor of my lab is really part of a front to throw off your nosy classmates?”

Peter freezes. He glares at Tony, but there’s no real malice in it. Maybe a little annoyance, but even that is dwindling because Tony is smirking to himself—it’s the kind of smirk that just sort off happens without any conscious effort or thought, like he just can’t help it.

(And it’s not so much the smirk that disarms him, it’s where it’s directed: right at Peter, coupled with this gaze that sort of borders on fond, on affectionate—it’s been appearing more and more lately in the margins of their conversations, an annotation to the quick banter that flows between them, quips and jokes that come easier and easier with time.)

“I’m not getting you coffee,” Peter says.

Tony frowns. “Rude. Illegal. You’re fired.”

“You can’t fire me. I’m not even an official employee.”

“Oh, really? Tell that to the hours of paperwork I filled out with Pepper and the secret account where all the money you make here goes.”

Peter laughs. “Funny.”

A beat. “Wait, that was a joke, right? Tell me that was a joke.”

Tony waves him off. “Of course. Maybe. Probably.”

“Mr Stark.”

“And there again is the ghost of Pepper’s Past.”

“Mr Stark, seriously, you can’t pay me to ask you questions all day and bother you and—I mean, all I do is get in your way—”

“Okay, pause.” Tony finally regards Peter with his undivided attention, suddenly serious. “First of all: you do not get in my way. Two, if I want to pay you thousands of dollars an hour to follow me around like a lost puppy, I will. It’s my money. You don’t have to spend it, but I can give it if I like. C: you’ve come up with more ideas in the last day than I had all week for these little bites from hell. Therefore I deem your insights valuable and worthy of pay. Now go get me coffee.”

Peter stares. He tries, very hard, to think of something to say. Unfortunately there’s nothing in his head but white noise.

Finally: “If I’m such a valuable asset, why should I be stuck with grunt work?”

Tony throws his head back and laughs. It’s short but it’s loud and it sends a shockwave through the lab, a ripple of warmth to Peter’s chest. Which is stupid. It’s stupid to be proud of making someone laugh, right?

“Okay, fair. How about we both go? We’ll stretch our legs, get some air. There’s this little place in Brooklyn that doesn’t make too much of a fuss when I pop in.”

“It… it’s two am.”

“Your point being?”

“Would they even be open?”

Tony pauses to consider that. “You know something? Maybe not.”

“Oh, and I wonder why that is. Maybe because no one buys coffee at two in the morning. Well, no one except crazy people who have heart-attacks at thirty five.”

“I can hear you muttering over there.”

“Good, you were supposed to.”

Peter finally gets all of his nanites together and lays them in a pile on the counter. He starts organising them into their proper groups.

“Hey.”

Again, he jumps. More nanites go flying. Tony grins, now hovering over his shoulder.

“You’re closer,” Peter observes.

“And you’re still a clutz,” Tony returns. He raps on Peter’s forehead with his knuckles. “We don’t have to get coffee. Let’s get pancakes.”

That is certainly a more attractive offer, especially considering it’s been at least three hours since Peter’s last eaten and if he doesn’t feed again soon he might start devouring himself from the inside out.

Still, he squints. “Would those pancakes be served with coffee?”

#marvel #tony stark #peter parker #irondad #ironfam #drabbles #my writing #asks #anon #drabble challenge #fanfic #fluff #idk what this is or how to do a drabble #but like #here she is

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first-living-myth · 4 years

Text

Summer Made Children

Picture credit to @unbeknownsst

Jade hurt his ankle, and is laid up with cast and crutches. Jesse is sitting next to him, doodling heart on their cast to cheer him up.

Summer-made children, to come back to,

JESSE

"Did you fell off the tree?"

Mom indeed been working temp as a nurse (that's why she's not home every nigh; she's working in the emergency unit though the evening till early morning) not even once-- Jess ever saw someone with broken bone and casted leg in front of his eyes. He sat a little away from the bed: unnecessarily looking terrified. This is one of the weekly trip to dad's place as the adults call it, holidays. Yet if it's a holiday why Mom always looked rather sour everytime he's being picked up of the apartment? He noticed so; children always do, her tightened jaw and stifled frown and a little bid of adieu that sounded like, I want him back in Sunday before 7 pm, instead of a nice 'Have a nice weekend!'

"Did bad kids hit you?"

His eyes are all doe; the thing that would still be with him once he later grown up into a man, doe, big eyes. Although little legs just decided to took himself onto the chair right next to the older kid's study, keeping distance from the bed, afraid those little clumsy hands of his would leave the boy in pain accidentally. (he is clumsy, big one.)

"Is it broken?"

(Little gasp!)

"Do you need help!"

JADE

Jade Huang was twelve and he fell from the stairs.

The classroom is large and daunting, far too threatening for Jade's tiny brain to comprehend. He did not like it, not even the slightest. However, he dare not to refuse his mom’s will, forced him to get off to school no matter what. Typical Asian parents, he dare say. He wore plain silky white shirt, short sleeve, tapered western, baggy lightweight black pants, then also his most remarkable sceptical and somewhat supercilious, with its odd rectangular, thick dark brown glasses. It was quite unhinged actually, due to the constant damage he shoved. He likes to throw things around when too immersed with something; bad habit never cease, just like wonder does.

Jade never once revel in commingling coeval groups, simply enough, he prefers to be alone. Hence, he wouldn’t get surprised anymore if the peers around him despise his presence; uncanny, an oddball, yet shrewd to say the least. He could never mingle well, a perfect misfit. Then, when lunch time comes, he always sits beneath the tall primeval, verdant, gigantic and gnarled, shady trees, all alone but with his fine, readable, small leather-bound books. He would read anything, from classic literature, until full-colored comics.

Whether he will understand the contexts or not, possibly more coherent with the latter, it wouldn't be a problem. Reading was and only his solace, in amidst of boisterous cacophony.

“Oi, clotpole!”

A chubby, bald, slanted eyes, noteworthy flabby tummy, has appeared. He seems cute, yes, to others, indeed. But Jade, himself, saw the other child, named Jason, as his mortal enemy; Jason oftentimes beat Jade until he felt like his end was near, pulled childish pranks, such as stole Jade’s favorite toy and many others. As usual, he chose to be wise, at least he thought, to ignore the impudent boy.

“I said, oi, clotplole! Didn’t you hear or are you deaf?”

“What do you want this time?” He asked, nonchalantly.

“Buy this for me! You’re rich, aren’t you?”

Jason said with a glimmer in his eyes, playful just like a misbehaving child would, while proud, holding up a crumpled, frayed brittle, piece of paper. There was a picture of something, he was unable to limn it, because it wasn’t considered as one of his interests. One thing for certain, it was some kind of toy.

“Why?”

“Because I want to!”

“Why?”

“You’re rich?”

“Why?”

“Just buy it, motherfucker!”

“But I don’t want to, and my statement is final.” his tone surprisingly even, almost studious.

“You bloody wonker!”

The next thing Jade knows, he was at home, laid up with cast and crutches. He was unconcious for a while, and refused to talk. Even when the old fine looking aunty was talking to him, he kept his mouth shut. Albeit seen disheveled, his gaze fixated on looking at a child of eight or nine, all pale skin and thin bones and dark, tangled hair.

Ahn Jaesuk, the name of the child. But he prefers to call him Jesse, as prolly everyone did. This is their third meeting, Jade was slightly content, thrilled yet he did want to show it.

“Hi, Jesse.”

JESSE

"Did it hurt?"

The kid talks so much. So-fucking much, he pulls the chair closer to the bed that his curious side grows. Frown curls in response; he's so expressive in the contrary to the older boy regarding to his either reaction or feelings, big, even. He gives big reactions to almost anything.

(His expressions changes often when he's trying to read Jade's collection of books; the expression where he barely understands letters, the expressions where he found a new verb he never heard before, the expression where he found BIG ACTIONS in the comic books! Later growing up he'll find fondness specially towards DC Comics.)

"I mean, when the bad kids hit you."

Did he come too straightforward? No means to offend, but,

"Or did you really fell off the tree!"

He's careful not to jump into the bed. Sick people needs bigger space, Mom once said. She's the nurse afterall; a pro in sick person, making them less sick, helping the doctors to help the sick. The easy way in comprehending the term in the brain of a nine year old.

"So, do you, need a help when you need to go to pee? Was it hurt when they put the cast on your feet? Mom said where the bone is broken it will be swollen and painful.

JADE

Jade is the only child and he didn't know how to deal with a little brother, the one who acted and played like so. He didn’t know how to deal with Jesse, even though he had done lots of research. By all means, reading many books that he could possibly find, few have been proven useful, but the rest look ridiculous though. A snippet from Jade’s reading material, ‘Raising A Kid’, ‘Teaching Boy About Things’, ‘Shit Brothers Said’, ‘I am A Brother’, and the list goes on. Well, what would you expect from someone mediocre, twelve years old, plain yet geeky boy?

“Hey, do you know what word to describe someone that asks too many questions, talk too much, like you?”

Jade asked, mimicking a wiseacre or smart aleck look alike’s expression, his brow wrinkled as he leaned in close to headboard, which was covered in white pillows, in his smaller and rather austere bedroom.

“I read it in a book, apparently those people are called loquacious.” Jade slurs. He was slightly worried if this is the right choice or not; he was concerned, he hardly believed anything at all. One of the human nature, future is always seemed scary, because they cannot control it; predictions, however, is in another hand. Now, Jade prayed with all his might, he's able to, at least, produce a good outcome through this.

Even so, Jade stilled in disbelief, a hefty sigh escaped successfully. It’s not like it should be a surprise, or anything, because even at the very first meeting, Jesse couldn’t shut up; a brazen young boy, inquisitive most of the time. But the child seemed fastidious about Jade’s current condition and all. Many would think Jesse was being annoying, making the whole plight vexatiously so, most certainly to a sick, helpless boy. However, Jade saw things differently, it was adorable, cute to be truth, and amusing to look at.

He felt the sudden urge to squish, pinch those plump cheeks, when he was watching vacuously open, soft vermeil, comparatively dainty lips of Jesse’s keep moving and talking. And so, he did, unconsciously and makes wonder spread in his chest.

“It’s hurt, the pain still lingers but I guess I’m okay.” He laughed, dryly. “Someone pushed me. From the stairs. It was scary. It was high. He was bigger than you. Strange.” He said, intermittently so.

JESSE

"What?"

He sounded as chirpy, until a really, foreign word hits his ear, over a pronounciation that the little boy barely could repeat. Mouth opens; involuntarily, a gape visible, and he doesn't even know that he's making that face for that brief moment,

<: O

(That's exactly the face he is making.)

Doe-eyed, mouth-gaped, briefly silent; do all 12 years old be this cool? Or only because Jade spent more times with books instead of communicating with actual person? But Jess surely never heard that word before.

"--Lo, locucious." Hey, he tried his best to repeat that out. Hopefully the older one still has that emphaty to correct the kid, or he will grow sticking to it until someone else is kind enough to point out. But Jess knows the word, retaliation!

Don't ask where did he learn that but Batman comics taught him so! Inclusing many scientific terms (he believed they are scientific, because, Detective Comics,) that came out of the same comic book series.

Jess also spent too much time reading colorful comics.

He gave out big reactions, remember? Again, big frown curling over his big displease of an expression in which shifted in no time upon the progression of the story; someone pushed me, fell from the stairs, it still hurt--- he cringed a big fear, he was bigger than you; and his frown curling up into a fright. As if the older boy was telling him a horror, bed story time. (Would Jade read him bed story times?).

And he looked up the other boy with that same fright. Is he worried? Well, look at his face right now? "....Joshua got his knee hurt too when we played football in school," Joshua, Joshua Carson, his classmate, but he didn't mention about the fact that the mentioned boy as his classmate. "He skipped school for two! Weeks! I envy!! But then I missed him so I visit him everyday after school."

Chirpy, chirpy little boy,

"Uh-oh do you want me to take your drink!!"

(The story is still in progress).

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whateverittakestoavenge · 5 years

Text

Last of the Red Room (Part Three)

Avengers X Reader

Part One Part Two

Y/N eyes were watering from the blunt trauma received to her nose. Annalise was four years older than her and she had about an extra forty pounds on her. Right now, Y/n wasn’t winning and she knew that wasn’t acceptable.

Annalise had maneuvered Y/N onto the ground, giving Y/N only three seconds to win before she had to surrender. Thinking quickly Y/n used all her might to headbutt Analise in the head, causing the older girl to throw her body back far enough for Y/n to gain the upper hand.

In a great gust of speed, Y/N had crawled onto Annalise back, locking her arm around the bigger girl’s neck. Annalise had accepted her loss, tapping out.

Madame B, who had stood in the corner of the room the whole time, gave Y/N an all too familiar look. With a nod and tug of her arm, Y/n broke Annalise’s neck, killing her instantly.

“Losing to a child is inadmissible. If you lose to Y/n, let this be the new punishment. Now,” She added with a sickly smile, “everyone go get your ballet slippers, it times to dance.”

---

“We are here to return for the child we left in your care 13 years ago.” The German spoke harshly and quickly.

Baron Wolfgang von Strucker had arrived at the academy needing to secure Hydra’s Future. Their greatest weapon was gone, the Winter Soldier, had fled after the battle in D.C., leaving them with an open position.

Madame B, the school’s headmistress, was not easily swayed by the man’s demands. “She isn’t prepared yet, she hasn’t had her graduation ceremony.” The Academy followed protocol for every girl’s exit. The sterilization was used to take away whatever little bit of humanity the girls had left.

“We have no time for your silly tradition, now bring us the girl,” Strucker sneered to the old woman.

“You asked me to be harder on her than the others, and now you want to take her out before she is even finished? This is absolutely absurd,” Madame B had said in a cool tone. She never lost her composure.

She had no time to add anything else to the conversation before the Baron left her office.

Y/N stood outside of Madame B’s study eavesdropping on her conversation. She didn’t know the man, but she knew he was here for her. She has been in the program longer than anyone. She was never told why.

Strucker exits the room, followed by Madame B. “Go get your things girl, we have big things planned for you.” The man had a cold voice, but YN wasn’t scared, she was almost comfortable with the harshness, she had never known warmth in all years.

Y/N stood by her bed. She had never had anything of her own so she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to bring with her. As she stood in the dormitory, Madame B approached her.

“You will do great things for Hydra.” Madame B had been a constant in the girl’s life. She supposed she would be fine with Strucker, Y/N had taken orders her whole life, now she was just taking them from someone else.

“What if I fail?” For the first time in her thirteen years, Y/N sounded uncertain.

“We both know you never fail. You were trained too well to fail.” That was all the reassurance Y/N needed and all the reassurance the headmistress was going to give.

The headmistress took Y/N’s hand and placed a pair of handcuffs into the young girl’s palm. It may have been the most sincere act the Head Mistress had ever shown Y/N. Every night of her life.Y/N had slept with her left handcuffed to the bedpost. The cuffs were the only thing she would bring with her as she left.

And within twenty minutes, Y/N exited the only place she ever knew. As she descended down the staircase, she made eye contact with every girl she grew up with. And then she exited the Red Room, without looking back.

---

As soon as Y/N arrived in Sokovia, she was lead to a room that housed seven men and women.

“You know what to do.” And with that Strucker slammed the door behind him. The soldiers pounced on the young girl, giving Y/N little time to react.

She had managed to knock one woman unconscious before the remaining 6 had backed her into a corner. She could’ve easily been beaten to death had an alarm not been blaring, signaling the soldiers to stop.

Strucker then came into the room to send the soldiers away, while a medic came to carry the unconscious woman away. “Soldaten, zurück zu deinen Stationen.”

“You did better than expected. They were all elite soldiers and you managed to take out one. By the time we are done with you, you will be able to demolish 10 people all on your own.” Strucker then shut and locked the door, leaving Y/N all alone.

Y/N noticed a bed in the corner, grabbed her bag and removed the cuffs out of it. She then cuffed her left arm and went to sleep only to be met with an agonizing nightmare.

---

“Pietro, I- I’m scared.” I was buried under rubble in a building but, I wasn’t alone. I had a boy my aged with me.

“Quiet, Wanda.” The boy, Pietro, was shaking.

“Pietro, Mama, and Papa, they’re dead.” Y/N suddenly felt a pain she had never felt before, losing two people who cared deeply for her.

“I know, Wanda, keep still. Help will be here soon.” The boy was only trying to comfort his sister, he moved closer to her to take her hand when with all of the shifting, more rubble came crashing down on the pair.

Y/N suddenly woke up, unable to breathe, feeling suffocated. She didn’t know who the siblings were or why she was dreaming about them. She put it back in her mind and went to sleep.

---

Within the next six months, Y/N’s had finally been able to pass Strucker’s test, defeating ten soldiers singlehandedly. The day after she met his expectations, the Baron had arrived in Y/N’s room with a gurney.

“Come, it is now time for you to become the person you were born to be.” Strucker had a sickening happy look on his face. He gestured to the gurney, and Y/N climbed on ready to be wheeled to her future.

As Y/N was in the medical area being prepped for the procedure, Hans Schmidt, the head scientist, turned toward Baron von Strucker with doubts. Countless others have died due to not physically being able to withstand the procedure.

“Is she strong enough to withstand this, sir?”

“Of course, she’s been training her whole life, and the ones before were never strong enough to take on our soldiers. ”

----

Y/N woke up feeling different. Nothing hurt and everything hurt. She couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong she just had a weird feeling in her whole body.

Strucker had entered her room with a genuine smile on his face. “You have made me incredibly proud.”

Y/N wanted answers. “What did you-you do to me?”

“You are aware of Captain America, correct?” After Y/N nodded he continued. “The super soldier serum that was used on him, has failed on every single person except for Steven Rogers. So we made our own, modifying it to fit our needs. And after years of trying it’s worked. On you.”

“So I’m super strong now?”

“You are so much more than strong. We gave you something special. A gift, really. In your bloodstream, now runs the venom of a Viperidae. You are now able to poison anyone by simply exposing them to your blood. Come, we must upgrade your training regime, it’s time you met the twins.”

Y/N had no fucking clue what they turned her into.

----

She hated the twins. Really fucking hated them.

She was confused on to how she recognized them, then remembered the dream she had on her first night in Sokovia.

The boy, Pietro, would run circles around Y/N, causing her to black out from lack of oxygen. But it was the girl that she wanted to kill.

Wanda Maximoff picked Y/N’s mind apart piece by piece. She could no longer eat or sleep. Every time she closed her eyes the Maximoff girl was there sending Y/N farther along her downward spiral. Y/N was a walking shell of the already empty person she was to begin with.

Y/N had found out the reason as to why she and the twins were in Hydra’s possession. The Avengers had outed Hydra towards the world and caused them to lose their greatest weapon, the Winter Soldier.

Y/N knew one of the Avengers. Natalia, or Natasha as she went by now, had graduated the Red Room when Y/N was very young. She was the star pupil of the Black Widow Program. And she betrayed everything the Academy stood for. She turned her back on the KGB. On Madame B. On Y/N.

Y/N remembered Natasha teaching her to speak Latin. It was an almost fond memory. She had no more fond feelings towards her. Natasha Romanoff was off pretending she was something else. Y/N hated her. She was no hero and she needed to stop acting like one.

---

Strucker was tired of the girl’s ungratefulness. So he gave her a mission.

“I don’t understand, why I am back at the Red Room?” Y/N was confused. No one comes back to the red room after leaving.

“You are going to burn it. Set it aflame. Make it go boom.”

For the first time in her life, Y/N begged. She pleaded with Strucker to not make her do it.

“Please, this is my home.”

“People like you never have a home. Now, do it, before Maximoff makes you.”

Y/N could hear their screams as she walked away from the Red Room. She did something for the first time in years, she wiped tears away from her face. So Y/N shut her emotions off, for good. It would be many years before she would ever be able to feel again.

---

“Viper, get up. The Avengers have entered the compound. Escort the scientists out through the tunnel.” Y/N left her cell towards the scientific section of the building. She had no interest in fighting the Avengers.

As Y/N was leading the Scientist through the tunnel, Hans Schmidt made a comment that would cost him his life.

“We can’t lose any of this research, we’ll never be able to create more people like the twins if we do.”

Y/N didn’t want any more people like the Maximoff’s in this world, so she did the only reasonable thing, she killed the people who responsible for creating them in the first place.

With eleven dead bodies around her, Y/N didn’t even grimace. She knew that Hydra stood no match against the Avengers. They beat an alien army for god's sake. She made her way to the roof to access the damage.

Hydra’s agents were littered everywhere. The Maximoffs were nowhere to be seen. So Y/N headed back to the tunnels to go somewhere new.

As she was walking down the road, an older man stopped to offer her a ride.

“Where to?” The old man seemed to be a jolly person, a glass half full type. God, she hated people like that.

“The bus stop,” Y/N replied sweetly. She was taught espionage so she could pretend to be a nice person for a car ride.

The man had wanted to talk on the way to the bus station. “I have a daughter around your age. Light of my life, even when she’s in a bad mood. So sweetly, whatever your parents did, it’s best for you to go home.”

Oh god, he thought she was a runaway.

“Ok, so say my parents hand me over to a group of Nazi scientist as an infant, who in turn hand me over to an assassin school fronting as a dance academy, who then give me to Nazi scientists, to experiment on me. So, should I return to my parents?”

The old man wasn’t sure how to respond. He brought the car to a stop, unsure of how to proceed with the teenager in his vehicle.

Y/N smile a vicious smile, worthy of a viper, and then in one swift motion, grabbed a knife from her boot and slashed her palm open. The dark protruding blood was smeared on the old man, causing him to break out in venomous boils, killing him quickly.

Y/N pushed the old man out of the car and then drove away without looking back. She had people she wanted to find.

---

“Clint, I need your help.” Natasha Romanoff felt sick to her stomach after hearing Wanda’s tales about Y/N.

“What do you need, Nat.” Clint was tired, he was enjoying retirement, but Nat wanted to pull him back in.

“I need you to help me find someone. Someone who grew up like I did. I wanna help her.”

---

"Soldaten, zurück zudeinen Stationen."=“Soldiers, back to your stations.”

Sorry it took so long to get this chapter finished! Please let me know how you guys feel about this chapter! If you want to be tagged let me know!

---

@ludwigvonbaethoven @just-some-stars @chloe-geoghegan1 @what-inspirational-name @cecedofficial @infinitystones2018 @euphoniumpets @kewl-r @-thatgirloverthere- @fiftyshadesofriri @wolfiea03 @fatalecoffee

#avengers x reader #avengers endgame #avengers fic #peter parker x reader #tony stark #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers infinity war #clint barton #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff #natasha romanoff x reader #age of ultron

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dresupi · 5 years

Text

I Feel It In My (Magnetic) Core

Darcyland Crack Challenge 2019 | Day 4: Must Include Magnets |

Summary:

"God, I'm sorry! I'll try not to move it! So sorry. God…" Darcy concentrated on not moving her hand.

"Somehow that's worse," Fitz groaned, rubbing his hand over his face. "And I'm the one who's sorry, you didn't ask for this."

Pretty sure no one asks for this.

That's what Darcy's thinking as her ring remains attached to the button on Fitz's pants.

But it's really not as dire as either of them think. Their attraction is stronger than any magnet, anyway.

Darcy didn't usually pick up coffee for just anyone. Sure, she started out as the resident gopher, but she only grabbed caffeinated goodness for a select few people. Jane was one. Fitz was another. She also got Bruce his tea, but she was pretty sure he hadn't noticed that she'd been promoted and it had been too long now to correct him. Plus, he was super nice about it. How do you say no to the most polite-person, ever, right? Super plus, his tea was non-caffeinated, so she technically only got the good stuff for a few people.

Anyway, she stopped off in the engineering lab-slash-workshop with Fitz's fave. A double-shot plain latte with soy.

"I come bearing espresso…" she called as she let herself into the lab.

"You know, I was just going to head down to get some, but I was sidetracked…" Fitz responded, bending at the waist over the counter to hold an orange disk out at arm's length away. There were five or six pennies stationed at the opposite end of the surface. When he tapped his phone screen with the opposite hand, the pennies shot straight to the orange disk and he grinned widely, glancing up at her before tapping his screen again. That switched off whatever was in the orange disk because the pennies fell to the countertop with a clatter again.

"Some kind of something that attracts… zinc?" she guessed, handing him his coffee.

"Well. Yes, but it's more."

"How much more? Lemme have it, Fitz." She didn't really have to know, but she was curious. Plus, Fitz always got this big goofy grin on his face when he explained something scientific, and Darcy might have had the teeniest, tiniest, mostly professional crush on the young doctor and that goofy grin of his.

"The disk is controllable via an app, but it basically alters its molecular makeup to make it magnetic to whatever metal you can imagine. I have settings for anything and everything."

"Not all metals are magnetic, though. Like zinc," she gestured to the pennies. "Sooo…"

"Ha, the known metals on earth," he countered. "This disk is made of something not of this earth and it can be magnetically attracted to every known metallic atom."

"How?"

Fitz pursed his lips briefly. "Well, that I don't know. But it's really cool, right? It's going to be used for defense or lock picking or some such nonsense, but I'd like to make one of my own. To hold all my bits and bobs and…" he stopped talking and took a sip from his coffee. "You're not interested in that, I'd wager."

"No. I have a healthy interest in your bits and bobs…" Darcy said, grinning a little as she tugged a stool over to sit down. He either didn't catch the flirty tone of her voice, or he was too deep in the science of it all to register anything flirtatious.

"In addition, I can use the disk to briefly alter a metal to make it magnetic to everything of its own type. Like a piece of iron could attract all other pieces of iron. A piece of steel could attract all others with its molecular makeup. It'll be useful for cleanup. Crashes. Salvage. That sort of thing…"

"Whoa. Cool. Demo?"

"Sure, here… " He reached for her hand, touching the orange disk to the ring on her right ring finger for a moment. "Give me just a moment for the disk to scan you and--"

Her hand shot out, dinging slightly when it hit its target. Fitz grunted and glanced down at Darcy's hand, which was now stuck fast to the front of his pants.

He exhaled slowly. "Darcy?"

"I didn't do it!" she exclaimed. "I promise. I'd never grope your crotch without asking."

His face shot up briefly. "What? Wha… wh--- so you'd do it with permission, that what you're saying?" His voice got all high pitched and panicky and if Darcy wasn't just a few ticks past freaking out herself, she'd stop and admire him for being so utterly adorable and Scottish.

"That's totally not what I meant, I just meant I wouldn't. I'd never…" She yanked her hand, which only succeeded in yanking him with it. Hips first, of course. "Turn it off, Fitz."

"I'm trying! It's-still-in-development-technically-so-things-like-this-still-happen." He was speaking just as rapidly as before, so she had to squint to decipher everything he said. It was difficult when it was all strung together like it was.

"Deep breath, Fitz," she said. "You gotta slow down, or I won't be able to understand you."

He took a long, deep breath and released it.

She continued. "You said the metal's only magnetic briefly, how brief is the usual stint?"

"Ten minutes or so, usually how long it would take for someone salvaging the metal to scoop up the mass, and then it wears off and everything unsticks."

"Okay, so we just have to wait ten minutes, right?"

"Well, normally we would. But since I was testing this, I rose the time limit."

"To what?"

He covered his face with his hands. "Aroundtwohours..." The words came out jumbled and muffled by his hands, but she could still make it out.

She exhaled, glancing down at her ring, her right palm splayed right over the zipper on his corduroys. "Deep breaths, you're speaking in cursive again."

He sucked a breath in and released it again, a little quicker than before, but it still helped. "What I don't understand is why your ring attracted the button on my trousers… I just… my trouser buttons aren't made from anything you'd make jewelry from."

"My ring's made of a zinc alloy. Janey had it made for me out of a scrap of our first mobile lab. Apparently, your trouser button is made of the same material… which is interesting, to say the least," she said, bordering on a full-on nervous ramble.

Fitz crossed his arms, his lips all but disappeared as he pressed them in a thin line. "Is it, Darcy? Is it interesting? Really?"

"Why don't you sit down? I'll go with you to grab a stool or something. Or just take your pants off. I won't look, I promise. I can even get an intern to go grab some of Bruce's extras for you to borrow until yours fall off my ring."

"That… that…" he shook his head. He was looking increasingly flustered and Darcy, for the life of her couldn't figure out why. Sure, this was an embarrassing predicament, but it wasn't as if it were becoming more embarrassing or anything. He was wearing underwear, most likely, and she wasn't going to look. Her little crush notwithstanding. She wasn't into ogling someone's underwear without their explicit permission.

He shifted again and suddenly it dawned on her.

Or pressed against her hand, rather. It was pressing rather stiffly against her thumb and forefinger, effectively tenting his trousers and becoming more and more impossible to ignore by the second.

He had to realize she'd notice, which explained his increasing frustration levels. Frustration on all fronts.

"Oh!" She tried to yank her hand back out of instinct, but again, it was stuck. Fitz jolted forward with her hand, closing his eyes and sighing heavily.

She scrambled for something to say. Something to make it better. "Oh geez. I'm sorry. Fitz. Really, it's not a big deal. I mean… I don't mean to say it's not big, but--"

If nothing else worked, maybe her rambling would. It was enough of a bucket of cold water to usually cool off anyone unfortunate enough to be paired with her on Tinder, so.

"Darcy… it's not your fault."

"God, really!" she continued, unstoppable in her awkwardness. " I'm sorry! I'll try not to move it! So sorry. God…" Darcy concentrated on not moving her hand. On not feeling the rapidly, almost impossibly, hardening… shaft-- God why am I like this?--beneath her fingers.

"Somehow that's worse," Fitz groaned, rubbing his hand over his face. "And I'm the one who's sorry, you didn't ask for this. Please stop apologizing."

"Maybe we could try not talking about it?" she offered. Seriously. This was a case of friction, right? Any dude would have this same problem. They just needed to diffuse the situation. Get him thinking about something else. Then, the problem would… shrink, and he could slip off his pants and then it'd be so much less awkward.

Fitz just shook his head, leaning back against the counter and taking Darcy with him.

"Seriously. Dude. It's just me. Just me. It's--"

"That's the problem, Darcy. It's you."

She blinked rapidly, trying to ascertain the meaning of his words. It was her. Why was that the problem? Did he… did he find her repulsive?

Her train of thought must have shown on her face because he quickly tried to explain further. "No, Darcy… you're the reason it's… in the state it's in." He looked down to where her hand was resting. He took his bottom lip between his teeth for a short moment. He looked up into her eyes. "I'm very fond of you. Feels like an understatement, considering…"

Darcy's mouth felt dry, so she snapped it closed, musing over his words. "So you… you fancy me?" Borrowing one of his words felt apropos, given their predicament.

He huffed out a laugh, smiling and blushing an even darker red. "Yes. You sound surprised, and I thought I was being obvious."

Darcy moved slightly closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. To feel the waves of his nervousness. "I thought I was being obvious. Bringing you coffee, hanging on your every word. I mean, it's not difficult to hang on your every word, you're really interesting, but still…"

He made some kind of nervous sound, leaning to brace his hands on the counter behind him.

She moved to close the distance between them. She pressed her lips to his and he jolted. His arms stiffened as he leaned more into the kiss, even after Darcy broke it off, he chased after her, eyes dark. He smiled. "That's not helping matters in the slightest, I hope you know."

"I do," she said, smiling devilishly and moving her hand. Just slightly. Increasing the pressure until she had it wrapped loosely around him in his trousers.

He swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing as she leaned closer still, pressing her lips against his throat while she tightened her hold. "This okay?"

He gripped the counter and nodded. "Fuck yes, that's fine…"

She kissed her way up the column of his throat, lingering at his jaw until he cupped her chin with one hand so he could hold her still and kiss her deeply. His other arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against his body and trapping her hand between them.

A moan caught in his throat as he stopped abruptly, hurriedly breaking off the kiss. "Just one moment," he murmured, reaching for his phone and tapping against the screen a few times. Her hand suddenly dropped from his trousers, the weight of it tugging her wrist.

"My apologies. I promise I was paying attention. Just had a sudden thought…"

Darcy leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him again. "FRIDAY, can you lock down Dr. Fitz's lab, please?"

"Of course Ms. Lewis," the A.I agreed smoothly.

"Is it okay if I put my hand back where it was?" Darcy whispered, inhaling sharply when Fitz nuzzled her nose with his, her lips scant centimeters from his.

"As long as I can do something with mine…" His lips brushed against hers when he spoke.

"I was hoping you'd say that…"

#Leo Fitz #Darcy Lewis #Darcy/Fitz #Fitz/Darcy #dlaf2019 #crack challenge #lemon

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finestcreation · 5 years

Text

Holy

@fetishdcll liked this post for a starter

‘In the beginning, God created the Heaven and the Earth... And He saw it was good.’

That’s how the verse went wasn’t it? But that wasn’t all that happened in the beginning. That wasn’t the whole story. In the beginning there was no man... there was no humanity... there was hardly any life to begin with. In the beginning there was the destructive culture of Heaven divided so vastly that angels began to diverge into different sub species altogether. Upon the Earth there were monsters beyond comprehension, beasts that roamed among the dinosaurs, creatures that were living bio-weapons capable of destroying everything if given enough time. In the beginning... there was a young primary angel, the last created divinely by God’s hand, the last to not be born of an Irea (mother) or Krisea (father). He grew to love the demons like his children, one like his lover, and two like his sisters, and in the end was persecuted for it by the archangel Michael. In the beginning... there was war and tragedy. In the beginning Lucifer fought for his belief and was punished severely for it... An eternal looping bit of time, repeated so long as he shall remain trapped there. Experiencing the death of the one he loved over and over again. The one that sparked feelings of rebellion in him. However God gave him a way out. God made a deal with Michael.

‘Should Lucifer ever break out of his punishment, then he shall be redeemed and set free. He will no longer be chased by your sword and will be free to have dominion over the dimension of Hell and a residence upon Earth. Should he become free, then he will be saved.’ Without Michael’s knowledge, God placed a human in Lucifer’s path, a human that would be the punishment’s undoing. A human that would teach him how to create a miracle... This human was tied to his love, and this human awoken the hibernating powers within him...

Ryo would be lying if he said he never missed Heaven, but at the same time he would be telling the truth if he said he never wanted to go back there. He spent the majority of his childhood up in the Kingdom of God, in the palace that God himself lived in... He never saw him, in fact Ryo could hardly remember his creator’s face... All he remembered was that the deity was always so incredibly hard at work. On what? He couldn’t tell... There was always something he was sure. What could God possibly be doing up in that palace? Regardless, it was a lonely childhood, but one he missed somewhat. He missed the simpler times... But in Heaven all he was, was an ornament. Something for other angels to gawk over. A symbol of divine power. At the time of his creation he was the only Seraphim and to this day he still remained God’s most beautiful and powerful angel... Part of him wished to pray to God, to reach out and talk to him, rebuild the relationship that was lost during the wars... But at the same time he felt a guilty pain and throbbing rage at just the thought. He didn’t need to apologize for what he did-- what he did was justified! Angels shouldn’t have tried to hunt demons down! Demons were living too, they deserved to survive... And yet he’s done so many terrible things that part of him knew that he was somewhat wrong...

If only he knew that he didn’t need to apologize... That he was already forgiven.

Now that he was free of his punishment, his new life was easily created. Modeled after his old life, he was known as Doctor Ryo Asuka-- an Archaeologist who both does scientific research among the scientific community and teaches at universities and schools. He has something of a media presence as well, with a talk show and a bit of buzz around him. However most would describe him in the tabloids as being quiet, reserved, and somewhat aloof. It was nigh impossible for anyone to get far enough into his life to dig up any dirt. There were no sex scandals, no drug scandals, no anything... He was seemingly perfect on the outside. Many individuals conspired that perhaps he wasn’t human, perhaps he was created by the government, to which they’d be partially correct. If only they knew he was Satan himself... How would the world react to the biblical villain of humanity living among them so peacefully and quietly. Just trying to find a way to make demons and humans coexist. Just looking to find a way to bring back the human and demon he had grown to love-- Akira and Amon, merged together by his own hand, dead before he could even confess his feelings. He could imagine that humans would shy away from him, terrified of what he’d do, unknowing that he was just trying to live on with the pain of loneliness that always bit at him.

It wasn’t uncommon for Ryo to detect demons or spirits in this world. So long as he existed, demons would continue to thrive, and malignant spirits would continue to persist so long as humans were around. With his senses as heightened as they were, due to being an angel, he could quite literally sniff out these creatures... However, angels were not common in this world. Angels hardly wanted to get their hands dirty in a place like this. It seemed only his former caretakers ever came down here, either to start a fight, or to check up on him... Some of them seemed to still care. Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and Uriel... He wondered how disappointed they were in him now... Because of this, however, angels were not common around these parts. That’s why when he saw the news feed he was baffled. Two angels were fighting a spirit. They weren’t of the ‘Divine’ subspecies like he was, they were from one of the outer villages. If he looked close enough, they seemed to be of either the ‘Radiant’ subspecies or the ‘Starlight’ subspecies. Regardless, he found himself staring at the television in awe and surprise. His demonic secretary Jenny at his side. Rising up to his feet, he paced about for a spell contemplating what he should do.. until he decided nothing at all. Those angels weren’t hurting anyone, they weren’t hunting demons, and they weren’t pursuing him... He didn’t care.

And yet, when he was given the opportunity to meet Panty through ties in the media, he took it without halt.

As soon as he stepped into the same room as the blonde he knew immediately she was an angel. She looked angelic, even if she didn’t act like it, and the smell upon her was definitely the perfumed odor of angels intermingled with the musk of humanity. He wondered if she could sense that he was an angel too-- or would she sense that he was a demon? Michael had said once that he reeked of demon, that because he lived so long among them that he might as well be a beast himself. He even married Amon during the Mesozoic era, going as far to bare his child which was miscarried long before it could even begin to grow limbs inside the womb... Proving the theory angels had that an angel and a demon could theoretically have a child. A twang in his stomach... that was an eternity ago and he loathed to think about it. He forced everything else melt away in his mind as he returned his focus back to Panty. His expression remained stoic and calm as he began to talk, a formal greeting befitting one as highly educated as him. He was half tempted to slip into the language of Heaven but decided against it.

“Hello miss Anarchy.” Ryo began. “I don’t think we’ve ever met in person, however I have seen you on the news and in magazines quite a bit, the stories surrounding you are quite fascinating and your beauty is hardly something to scoff at.” Of course he was going to open up with compliments, he wasn’t fond of making enemies. “I am professor Ryo Asuka.” He used his human name, he wouldn’t give away he was an angel if she didn’t know. “Thank you for joining me on my talk show as a guest, it truly does mean a lot and I’m sure my fans would love to learn more about you.” He looked to the live studio set, it was so strange to be asking another angel to appear on television with him... It was strange to be talking to another angel to begin with. “Is there anything you would like to ask me before shooting starts?”

#verse:post-awakening #welcome #fetishdcll #thread:holy

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altean-plance-au · 6 years

Text

Loose Ends (Part 1)

Continuing from the New Assignment series. This time: a lot of protecting happens and the title refers to the author finally posting something after what seems like forever. Also Keith finally makes his appearance in the AU.

Featuring a scene from this piece by @honestlyprettychill (AdminChilly)

Admin Hush ( @hushman) will provide part 2 in the coming days.

~~~~~~~~

The next time he and Pidge found a trail of shattered Balmeran crystals, he would take the wiser route and alert the Castle first before following it, Lance decided sorely.

Had he done so the first time, they might have been able to avoid this situation.

Heavy footsteps announced a new arrival, interrupting the eerie quiet of the dark room. Lance’s ears twitched, eyes closed to feign sleep and aide his concentration.

It was not armored boots, he knew what those sounded like better than back of his hand. The sound was more akin to softer shoes, like those nobles would wear.

Their host was finally going to introduce himself then.

Lance maneuvered his bound wrists the best he could behind his back, reaching out with the tips of his fingers as far as they could go. They sifted through a sea of crinkly material, the name of which rested on the tip of his tongue. He couldn’t see it, only able to turn his head to see a portion of what was over his shoulder. Even that was a difficult task between the darkness of the room and a taut rope keeping him tight against the back of the chair.

His hands finally made contact with flesh - another pair of hands - and he squeezed them.

“We’re about to have a visitor,” Lance told Pidge. “Stay alert.”

A squeeze back was all the response he received before the door opened and the room flooded with bright light. Lance winced and turned away, closing his eyes at the sensory overload.

“When my men told me I had some unscrupulous visitors, I hardly believed that the honorary princess was one of them,” the voice said with disgust. Lance recognized it immediately, but Pidge beat him to the punch.

“Duke Elor,” she said distastefully. Lance felt her body tense where their backs touched. “I should have known you were behind the drones. What are you planning to do with all these Balmeran crystals?”

Lance opened his eyes once more and turned his head to observe the duke. His gaze was drawn to what the only man held; his broadsword. The one King Alfor had given him upon becoming a Castle guard.

A part of him wanted to be very angry at the irreverence by which the duke held the special weapon. The luxury to do so was not afforded to him.

A very bad situation had just turned into a bodyguard’s worst nightmare. Helpless to protect his charge in the first place, Duke Elor had never been shy about his dislike of the Holt siblings. Although both families were equally distant cousins of the crown, Pidge and her brother had been granted the titles of princess and prince by virtue of their father’s valued scientific and military council.

Elor was perhaps understandably jealous, but Lance had never pegged him to go this far.

“Is it wrongful to do business in the trading of Balmeran crystals in peace and quiet?” he asked airily. “The drones are not mine," his voice carried in annoyance. "The trail which led the two of you here was an oversight which I have personally seen to the correction of.”

“It is illegal if you have them infused with additives,” Pidge accused. “For good reason. They’re a power source themselves, too dangerous to be mixed with any other energy.”

“A growing necessity in a demanding economy and viewpoint which our beloved king does not share,” Elor said condescendingly. “And because we do not see eye to eye, the two of you will remain here while I deliver this to my client.”

“You won’t get away with this,” Pidge growled. “King Alfor will find out about this.”

“Perhaps eventually, after I am long gone off planet,” he said coolly.

Lance scoffed, and grinned in confidence. “There’s no way you’ll get past space port security. They’ll be all over you before you can even break the atmosphere.”

His grin vanished as Elor’s mouth morphed into an unkind smile. “It is a good thing you both are here to provide a distraction, then.”

Reaching into his pocket, Elor produced a flare and lit it with the flick of his fingers.

The room illuminated and fear gripped Lance fast. The room in which they were being held was storage for mounds of dried juniberry and other tea leaves. Tied tightly to the chair, Lance hadn’t been able to feel the leaves through his armor, even though they piled up to his chest.

Leaves dry enough to catch fire with even the smallest spark.

Like the flare Elor had just lit.

“I thank you that your final act in life will be to my assistance.” He placed Lance's broadsword up against the wall next to the door. “I can at least afford you the luxury of perishing with your weapon. Farewell, children.”

“Wait, Duke Elor don’t - !”

The Duke dropped the flare to the floor and both captives gasped in fear as the leaves burst into flame, spreading quickly all around them.

“Do not feel as if you’ve failed your duties, Lieutenant,” the duke said as he stepped backwards out of the room. “Think of yourself as here to guard Miss Holt in the afterlife.”

The door locked shut with deadly finality. Darkness returned but for what the fire illuminated. To Lance’s dismay, it had already engulfed a whole quarter of the room.

“If you have something clever up your sleeve,” he said in panic, “now would be the time!”

Pidge wiggled her wrists furiously. “Don’t you think I’m trying?! The leaves are so far gone I can barely feel a pulse. You’ve got water magic, put it out before it gets to us!”

Lance went rigid, shrieking as his toes begin to get too warm for his liking and a soft glow appeared just before him. “I can’t move my hands. Even if I could there’s no water here!” Desperately, he blew hard towards the flame, hoping to hold it back.

“Stop it, you’re going to make it worse! Just - just give me a minute!” Pidge yelled. Though her words were sharp, Lance could hear the fear in her voice.

Lance gave her silence and felt the familiar warmth of her magic fill the space immediately around them. While normally it gave him good feelings, the encroaching threat and the increasingly unbearable heat on his legs made it difficult.

Pidge coughed and Lance found himself doing the same after inhaling smoke. Was this really how he was going to meet his end? The worst bodyguard ever? Never to see his family again - let alone if they would ever find out what really happened to him.

Maybe now was the time to tell Pidge about his budding feelings for her. The timing was awful, but it was the one regret he could fix right now - for better or for worse.

“Pidge,” he began, “there’s something I need to - “

A leaf cut across his cheek as sharp as any sword. More of them circled and cut the rope that kept him tied down. In a flurry, even more leaves pushed out away from him, reducing the agony of the fire.

Lance looked up in wonder. The words he had intended to say taken from his mouth, leaving him to gape like a fish at the sight. Leaves swirled around the both of them until the floor beneath was bare, making them the center of a vortex of leaf and flame.

The ropes no longer restrain him and Pidge’s labored breath snaps him out of his awe.

“Pidge!” he jumped out of his chair and ran around to face his charge, kneeling to get a better look at her face. She sat in deep concentration, also now unbound. Sweat fell from her temples and her breathing became increasingly strained. Pidge rarely used this much volume of flora in practice, but the amount of energy Lance knew she was using due to the near-dead leaves was overwhelming her.

“Pidge, it’s time to go. I’ll carry you, we’ll make a break for the door,” he prodded.

Pidge did not respond, her head bowed and brows creasing with strain. Her face was more pale than usual.

She wasn’t going to be able to hold the firestorm in place for long anyway.

It was his turn to come up with a solution then.

Lance called upon his magic and with great care not to disturb Pidge, took her sweat and gathered it into as big a ball as he could.

He used the knowledge from one of Pidge’s lessons and infused his own energy into the small sphere. It grew in volume, bolstered by Lance’s magic. Standing, and stepping backwards, he balanced the precious water between his palms. Then very carefully he maneuvered it into the firestorm that surrounded them. The water mixed in with the fire and it slowly began to sizzle out bit by bit, leaving only a tornado of tea leaves.

A moan from behind alerted Lance that Pidge could not last any longer. She fell into his arms and the leaves dropped at the same time. The fire had not been extinguished, but their powers had bought them time.

"Let's get out of here, Pidge. Hold onto me tight." He took her arm and slung it over his own shoulder, carrying her towards the door.

Pidge groaned and her eyelids fluttered. "I've got the door. Stand back."

She raised her arm and Lance saw what she was going for. He supported her arm and activated the computer on her wrist cuff for her once it was aimed at the door's control panel. In just a few tics it opened without a problem.

"Nice job, Pidge," Lance said. Pride for his friend filled him. "You never cease to amaze me."

"Save it for later," Pidge said as she flopped her head into Lance's side. "We need to get out of here and warn the Castle. Duke Elor is still out there."

Lance dutifully helped her outside, a fond feeling rising in his chest. "Let's get you to a safe place and we'll do just that. I have to do my job right once today," he quipped. He accompanied it with a forced chuckle.

Pidge didn't respond. Lance frowned, a serious demeanor falling over him. He collected his sword and sheathed it with his free hand.

He almost failed today. He wouldn't let it happen again.

~~~~

Pidge woke rejuvenated. Aside from a post-wake up haze, her body felt energized and ready. Her legs felt slightly damp. She opened her eyes to see Lance sitting up next to her, their backs against a tree. The morning dew still clung to the grass underfoot.

Not just any tree, she realized, the Father Tree. Pidge sighed in relief. She couldn’t think of any safer place for them to be right now save the throne room. Even though her relationship with the Tree was still tenuous, she knew permission was there to draw upon some of the Tree's smaller branches.

She still needed to fully earn its trust.

"I'm glad you're awake," Lance said in relief. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," she said. "I think the Father Tree did me a favor and replenished my magic. Did you call for help?"

Lance nodded. "Shiro has some guards on the way. I told them where we're at." He paused and tears formed around his eyes. Without warning, he grabbed her into a tight hug. "I was so worried for you. Here you are, saving me when I'm supposed to be your bodyguard."

Once over the initial surprise, Pidge returned the hug softly. Something about Lance was so earnest and warm and it infected her with ease. It may have been cliche to think she was safe in his arms. "You brought me here. There was no way I could have gotten out of there alone. You more than did your job. We're a team remember? That was our deal from day one."

Lance chuckled, tears evident in his relief. "You're right. I'm just... so thankful you're okay. And not just because you're my boss. It's because you're my friend and you mean so much mo - "

"This is all very quaint, and rather annoying."

Pidge gasped and broke from the hug. Focused on what Lance had been about to say, she hadn't been paying attention to her surroundings. Inexplicably, Duke Elor stood before them. Two guards of his own aimed blasters menacingly towards her and Lance.

"How - how did you find us?" Pidge exclaimed angrily.

"I'm just as frustrated as you, young lady," Elor chided. "Here I am awaiting my ride only to discover that the two of you have pulled off the impossible and escaped. That building should be in ruins by now."

Lance shifted to his knees, sword between her and them. “We aren’t that easy to kill,” he said. Pidge couldn’t recall the last time he had sounded this devoid of all humor.

This situation scared him, she realized. Same as it did her.

“Careful with your choice of words, Lieutenant. I might take that as a challenge.”

Wind whipped up around the area, causing leaves and branches of all kinds to whirl about indiscriminately. Pidge shielded her face, but did not miss the shuttle that landed on the beach just yards away.

“Be obedient children this time and stay put for your death.”

The trees trembled in the presence of newcomers. It was Pidges only warning and she realized with a gasp that more enemies were inbound from the ship.

“Lance, above you!”

Lance raised the sword above him not a tic too soon. It clashed with a shorter blade descending from the trees. Lance grunted and heaved, forcing the assassin to land a good distance away and unable to complete the blow that had been intended for her.

The assassin was masked in purples and blacks, a sign of Galra make.

A greater fear than death took her. Pidge turned the fear to anger, directed at Elor. “We have been at peace with Daibaazal for centuries. Now you bring assassins and risk it all? For profit?!”

Elor did not react, placing his hands behind his back in proper posture. “We all must do what we can my dear child. Peace is simply bad for business.”

Lance stood to face the Galra assassin, practically snarling with his sword at his side ready to go. Pidge dug into her magic reservoirs, hidden behind Lance for the element of surprise.

Sweat dripped down her face as Pidge's brain fought for a solution. Now the situation had turned impossible. If they were killed by a Galra blade, Altea would go up in arms. If they killed a Galra, even provoked, Zarkon would go to war.

Lance understood this as well as she did. He held his ground, grip visibly tightening around the hilt of his sword.

Elor turned up to the trees on his left, smile savage. “Kill the princess,” he ordered.

“Don’t you touch her!” Lance yelled, and launched himself at Elor.

Elor’s personal guards fired their blasters. Facial markings glowing bright and magic concentration in the palm of her hand, Pidge summoned help from the leaves of the surrounding trees to create a barrier for Lance, desperate to make sure he wouldn’t be hurt.

The leaves could not shield all of the continuous blasts. Lance deflected some with his sword as he pushed forward, but his battle cry quickly turned into one of pain. He twisted and fell to the ground with his back against the enemy.

Pidge's breath caught in her throat as the assassin cut through her leaf shield and came at Lance with sword raised to strike a blow.

“Lance, look out!” she yelled.

Lance spun around on his back and once again met the Galra blade to blade. The two held the others blow, Lance clearly struggling after the repeated hits from the blasters.

The broadsword flew from Lance’s hand, flying and skidding a sizable distance away. The assassin’s blade thrust into his stomach and he screamed in pain.

Pidge wanted to go numb. Lance was her friend, possibly best friend. He was warm and kind and quick to be silly. He was her training partner, the first she’d ever had. Whatever she did, she did with him.

She loved him.

Through tear stained and fearful eyes, determination won out. She would not go numb, that wouldn’t help Lance at all. He would not die today, not if she could help it.

A warm, ancient feeling filled every inch of her being. Rage seeped into the gaps as the assassin ripped the blade out of Lance’s body and lifted him up by his collar.

Pidge saw everything. All around her each individual stem and leaf were outlined in a bright green glow. Thin vines surrounded her, twisting and twirling freely, ready to attack. She did not have to ask the plant life to do anything. They were of one mind and will.

The vines went rigid, making themselves as spears. Like lightning, they make their way to impale the assassin.

He saw the attack coming. With one great heave he threw Lance by the collar and jumped out of the way.

Pidge has no time to avoid Lance as she catches his full weight, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

“Enough toying with them,” Elor said in annoyance. “Finish the job.”

Pidge moaned in pain, but did not lose her wits. She rolled Lance onto his back and set him upright against the Father Tree.

The assassin raced towards the two downed Alteans, blade raised high. Abruptly, the assassin stopped. His blade slid out of his hand and fell to his knees, a bloodied shard of ice sticking out of his throat.

Lance’s markings continued to glow for a moment longer before flickering out. Pidge had no time to be fascinated by not only his quick thinking to use the dew, but also with his impressive phase changing.

He was in bad shape. Blood ran down from his eye, both of which were clenched shut in obvious pain. His right arm held fast to his abdomen and Pidge knew more serious injuries lay underneath his skin.

“Lance? Lance can you hear me?” Pidge said frantically, forcing herself not to shake him but rather apply pressure to his wound. Blood ran up to her wrists in an instant.

He groaned and bit his lip as he sucked in a breath. “Run,” he said. “I can spare you a few seconds. Get to the lake.”

“I am not leaving you,” Pidge declared firmly.

“It’s my job,” Lance said in equal measure. “Let me do it.”

“Shut up,” Pidge said. Instead of telling him why, she showed him.

She cupped her hand around his non-bloodied cheek and brought her lips in to meet his.

The kiss was soft and short. There was no time to dwell on how their friendship or professional relationship would change after this. Pidge didn’t have the luxury of time for it, or to wait for Lance’s reaction.

She stood between Lance and their would-be murderers. Vines from the Father Tree twist and curve around her hand, palm glowing more brightly and more powerful than ever. The sleeves of her dress ripped and her wrist cuff broke; her teeth grit in anger and determination.

They were both going to live, and only after they were both safe they would talk.

“You will not touch him,” she growled.

Elor rolled his eyes, clearly fed up with this whole matter.

“Defiant to the end. Captain.” He turned to his guards “Finish them!”

The guards aimed their blasters.

Pidge felt her markings light back up with fervor as she readied herself to defend against the blaster fire.

The standoff was interrupted as a curved blade flew in out of nowhere, embedding itself in one of the guards blasters. A hooded figure, dressed similarly to the assassin, raced in. With one hand he pulled the blade out from the weapon, and punched the guard in the jaw with the other, knocking him to the ground and out.

The second guard fired his blaster at the newcomer, who effortlessly blocked it with his blade. He raced forward and sliced the gun in half, using the handle of his blade to knock the guard unconscious.

Elor took several steps back, face full of raw fear. “What are you doing?! I pay you and this is how you repay me?”

“I take my payment in justice,” he said.

Gunfire from the shuttle blacked his path, which Elor took opportunity of to run to the safety of the ship.

The man in Galra colors shifted his head towards Pidge and dropped his mask. His black hair and pale face were the last features she had expected underneath the Galra uniform.

“Take down the ship! Hurry!” He yelled urgently.

Elor’s ship was taking off, loaded with the infused Balmeran crystals, Pidge could only hazard a few awful guesses about the type of people who would be buying.

She shot vines towards it, but even the Father Tree had limits. The flora stretched as far as it could, but the ship lifted high enough that they could not reach.

“No!” Their savior cried in dismay.

The shuttle hovered over the lake and turned to them. The telltale glimmer of the beam cannon charging made Pidge’s heart break. She scrambled to create a shield for the incoming blast, but no matter what she did, the physics didn’t add up. It wouldn’t be enough.

The ground shook violently. Instead of a laser from the shuttle, a much more powerful one rose from the center of Lake Altea and pierced the ship, causing it to explode on impact.

The gigantic figure of the Gombash leapt upwards to the flying debris, snatching fragments of metal and crystal before diving back into the lake. So large was the splash that the spray even reached them.

“Woah,” the man said in awe, shoulders slumped to a more relaxed position. “Can I get one of those?”

Pidge couldn’t help but feel only relief. The Gombash has saved not just them, but the Castle too. It was the one creature on the planet powerful enough to contain the explosions the crystals would inevitably create.

She let the plants return to their places. The grove looked as if nothing had ever happened.

She could now focus on the most important issue.

“Lance!” She flopped to her knees to check his vitals. Her tech confiscated and destroyed, she was forced to do it the old fashioned way.

He was visibly breathing. Still, she placed her forefingers at the base of his neck and read his heartbeat. Pidge deemed it within acceptable levels considering the situation. It wouldn’t stay that way if they stayed here too much longer.

Lance stirred and lifted his eyelids. “Are you safe?”

Her vision blurred at his concern. “We both are. We’ll have to explain Duke Elor’s death, but Gommy saved us from a lot of potential problems.”

“Gommy’s a good boy,” Lance chuckled with a soft smile. “I think I prefer your kisses to his though.”

Heat rose into Pidge’s cheeks. “We were about to die. I panicked.”

“I’m glad you did,” Lance said. With effort, he took her hands in his. His affectionate gaze somehow seemed different, a touch of love between the admiration and kindness.

“Is he going to be okay?”

She’d actually forgotten about the not-Galra warrior.

He knelt down the other side of Lance and produced a small container from his belt pouch. He began to rub a magenta colored cream over the wound. “This salve will start the healing process, but it’s not a cure all. He'll still need medical attention.”

Lance looked up at him quizzically, a single eyebrow raised. “Oh. Um, thanks?”

“Who are you?” Pidge asked, trying to figure him out as much as Lance was. “Why did you help us?”

“Because it’s my job,” he said, rolling back onto his feet. “My name is Keith. I’m an agent with the Blade of Marmora.”

“The Blade of Marmora?” Pidge repeated, her mind buzzing with the new information and trying to piece the puzzle together. “That’s Zarkon’s most elite military unit. You don’t look Galra.”

“Wait how do you know about the Marmorites?” Lance asked her. “That’s top secret stuff. Shiro had to call in tons of favors for my clearance.”

“Well, I’m technically not supposed to know,” Pidge admitted frankly. “It came up one day while I was searching the Castle archives.”

Lance’s eyes bulged comically. “Those are encrypted!”

“Yeah, poorly,” Pidge scoffed.

“I’m half Galra,” Keith explained. By the way his eyes darted between the both of them, he was just as equally trying to judge their character. “Dad was Altean. That’s why I was selected for this mission.”

“Wait, how long have you been investigating this?” Pidge probed. She was cautiously curious about the situation. Why hadn’t the guards been notified of this?

“I lost my reconnaissance drone several months ago, so I had to gather information on the ground. Duke Elor was my first suspect, so I joined the Galra mercenaries to see it first hand. Now the Duke is dead and the crystals destroyed. You two,” he said crossing his arms, “are my only witnesses.”

Pidge’s jaw dropped.

“The drones were yours?!” she and Lance exclaimed together.

Keith, taken aback and eyes wide, responded in kind. “You two destroyed it?!”

“So it was a Galra spy!” Lance declared angrily, leaning forward. “You should have told us, we wou - “ a coughing fit cut him off. Pidge gently pushed him back against the Father Tree.

“I did!” Keith defended. “I was assured that King Alfor was aware of everything.”

“He sure didn’t seem like it when we found the drone,” Pidge remarked with suspicion. “Are you sure Kolivan sent you?”

Keith opened his mouth to respond, but was silenced by the noise of Altean blasters. A five man squad from the Castle stood ready to fire.

“Step away from the princess and put your hands on your head, assassin. You’re under arrest.”

The combination of defeated and incredulous was amusing to see on Keith’s face as he raised his hands in surrender. Pidge frowned. This latest action continued to convince her that he was telling the truth. No assassin would give himself up so willingly or offer healing to a mortally injured target.

Help for Keith would have to wait. Lance kept his eyes closed, focusing on every breath. Speaking had drained more of his energy than he had anticipated. Although not in immediate danger, Lance needed medical attention, at least more than Pidge could provide at the moment.

Once the repercussions from today had settled and Lance was healed, then they could talk.

And they had more to talk about than just magic.

#altean plance au #plance #pidgance #flirtyrobot #vld fanfic #voltron legendary defender #altean pidge #altean lance #altean everyone actually #adminrue #this one has some blood in it #just fyi

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ethospathoslogan · 7 years

Text

undeniably illogical; a sanders sides/logicality fic

A/N: this fic took me so much longer than i thought it would omg but!!! here is some pining!logan!!!

summary: Most of all though, what terrified Logan -more than the irrationality of feelings, more than the thought of losing himself- was that, for once, he was faced with a problem that he didn’t know how to solve. To feel something for someone, for Patton of all people, was a realm that Logan very rarely ventured into. Now that he was in it, he didn’t know how to navigate it and find a way out. Even more terrifying, he didn’t know if he wanted to find a way out. Patton was everything warm and supportive, and Logan found himself basking in his radiance, relieved to finally have the comfort and security that he didn’t realize he desired until he had a taste of it.

ships: logicality

WC: 5,575 words of pining!logan

content: roman and virgil as wing-men, overthinking, pining, confessions

read on ao3!!!

Logan, of all four of the Sides, was not the feelings type. He didn’t particularly do feelings; they weren’t a key aspect of who he was. Feelings went more-so hand-in-hand with Patton, who was the heart and all its touchy human emotions, and Roman, who was every fanciful dream and hope that Thomas could have. Even Virgil was more feelings than Logan, because, despite Virgil not having such exaggerated eccentricities, he was still every suspicious and anxious feeling felt.

Therefore, that left Logan as the levelheaded mediator. He sifted through the nonsense and was the one to look at a situation objectively. When they all were faced with a problem, it was Logan’s job to find the correct, logical solution with nothing emotionally-charged tacked on. He guided Virgil through his anxieties by presenting facts to combat his worries, Roman through his dream-laced hopes by presenting the realities (even if they were harsh), and Patton through his times of high and intense emotion by presenting the truths in their lives that demonstrate that, yes, situations can improve.

Logan accepted his role among the four of them and knew that he had to live with being the stoic one. It typically wasn’t an issue. Even if Logan was faced with a personal problem, the others were usually dealing with something much worse, which meant that Logan had to help even out their emotions and work methodically through whatever problem that was sitting on their shoulders.

Completely hypothetical, of course, but even if Logan was faced with the problem of feeling something, he would have to swallow it down anyway because feeling things was not who he was. Even if he wanted to look at something with a more emotionally-charged viewpoint, it would only further add to his stress to have such a drastic change in who he was, who he was supposed to be.

(Completely hypothetical, of course.)

Then, however, Patton began to happen. No matter how much he tried, Logan realized that he could no longer look at Patton with only objectivity. Patton, sweet Patton, compassionate Patton… how could Logan look at him with anything but subjectivity? Patton, who cared for Logan and looked out for his well-being, even in times when Logan didn’t quite deserve it. Patton, who stood as a beam of comfort and positivity when the rest of them were shaken to the core by the manipulation Deceit had put onto them. Patton, who tried his hardest to listen to what Logan had to offer when it seemed like everyone else wished he would be silent (again).

Logan looked to Patton with a certain type of fondness that threw objectivity out the window and let subjectivity in, along with thoughts that fit more into Roman’s room and plans for how to properly work through his thoughts and receive a proper “happy ending”.

That subjectivity, however, was illogical. And that terrified Logan. Subjectivity was everything Logan was not. And if he started to become what he wasn’t, then who was he? What was the point of being Logic if he could not stick to his core values? Roman was the one who dealt with a racing pulse and a pounding heart, the one who dealt with fanciful illusions of people fitting together neatly because of (non scientific) chemistry, not Logan.

Most of all though, what terrified Logan -more than the irrationality of feelings, more than the thought of losing himself- was that, for once, he was faced with a problem that he didn’t know how to solve. To feel something for someone, for Patton of all people, was a realm that Logan very rarely ventured into. Now that he was in it, he didn’t know how to navigate it and find a way out. Even more terrifying, he didn’t know if he wanted to find a way out. Patton was everything warm and supportive, and Logan found himself basking in his radiance, relieved to finally have the comfort and security that he didn’t realize he desired until he had a taste of it.

Which lead to another problem: Logan, now feeling something that felt like fluttering in his heart, had no clue what he was doing. Logic had no clue what he was doing. The physical embodiment of problem solving had no clue how to solve this particular problem.

Logan, who was sitting at his desk with a whiteboard laid in front of him, crossed off Ask Roman for help. It was the fourth time he had written the suggestion down only to cross it out. To ask Roman for help somehow simultaneously was probably the best and worst thing Logan could do. On one hand, Roman was Creativity, along with Thomas’ romantic and fanciful side. If anyone knew how to navigate romance, it was Roman. On the other hand, however, it was Roman and Roman, for lack of a better word in this time of stress, was very extra. Logan didn’t know if he could count on Roman to give him sound advice, let alone keep his mouth shut around Patton.

But Roman could probably give better advice than Logan could think of.

But it was Roman.

But Roman knew what to do in these types of situations.

But it was Roman. Don’t get him wrong, Logan was very close with the fanciful side, he just didn’t think he could handle Roman’s eccentricities at the moment.

But that only left-

Logan almost sent the whiteboard flying off his desk when there was sudden loud, quick pounding on his door. “Hey Specs, open up!” None other than Roman called on the other side.

Logan steadied himself, taking a deep, slow breath. If he was going to face Roman and not mention his situation, he had to maintain the facade that everything Logan thought he knew about himself was being burnt to the ground. Metaphorically, of course. At least Logan hoped that it remained metaphorical; if his room, the Center for Logic, was set ablaze, he was sure he would be, to quote Virgil, “thoroughly fucked”.

He finally stood and approached his door. His hand hesitated on the doorknob before pulling it open. Roman stood there with a grin and, behind him, Logan’s next worse option after Roman, Virgil.

Logan mentally ran through multiple expletives as he forced a smile onto his face. “Do you two require something?”

Virgil shrugged. “Just here for a chat,” he said, and it probably wasn’t anything foreboding, but Logan, in his state, took it as very ominous.

Still, Logan arched an eyebrow. “About what?” he cautiously asked.

Roman was beaming and leaned back on his heels before pushing himself up on his toes. He was too excited for Logan to let his guard down. “Let us in and we’ll tell you,” he said.

Logan narrowed his eyes as they flicked between the two before him. He had a feeling that they weren’t just here for a casual chat, but he also believed that to bar them from his room would make things more suspicious. Finally, he let out a resigned sigh and took a step back, opening up his door wider so that they could walk through.

Roman might as well have skipped into Logan’s room as Virgil followed slowly in behind him. Virgil gave Logan a steady look that he only returned.

“So,” Logan said as he shut the door behind the three of them. “What is it?”

Roman still had a wide grin on his face. “Me and Virgil here were feeling a lot of feelings,” he said.

“We should probably mention that they were feelings that weren’t ours,” Virgil added on.

Logan’s heart might as well have leapt up to his throat. He should’ve expected this to happen. An abundance of anything -analytical thinking, worry, dreaming, heightened emotions- was bound to alert the governing side. As his own fanciful thoughts and worries increased in their intensity, Roman and Virgil would have felt them more and more, and would have realized that they were not the ones feeling them.

Logan cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “Oh?” he questioned, trying to act as oblivious as he could. “Would you care to explain?”

“Well,” Roman began. “It started with me. I suddenly started getting all these overwhelming thoughts of hopes and dreams and fantasies and, I mean, yes, I am the dreamy, fantasy guy, but I knew that they weren’t mine! These dreams were too analytical, too full of calculations and things that could go wrong. So, I thought that maybe Sunshine over here was getting a little too lost in his own room with all that dark edginess and loud music and I, being an amazing person, went to go check on him!”

“Which is when I had left my room to go check on Princey,” Virgil explained, taking the opportunity to tell his own part of the story before Roman could. “Because I was getting all of these sudden gross feelings-y thoughts that were, frankly, incredibly anxiety inducing and exhausting. I went to go see what was going on with Roman only to find him right outside my room.”

“Like how you found us,” Roman quickly interjected.

Virgil and Logan both shared an eyeroll and Virgil continued, “So then we worried that something was going on with Patton. We thought, you know, maybe he got too caught up in his room or something and that we would have to go get him out. But-”

“-But it wasn’t Patton!” Roman interrupted, his excitement bursting out of him. Virgil shot him a dirty look but Roman didn’t falter, “Patton is in the Commons having the time of his life because I released some puppies about and-”

“You did what?” Logan’s eyebrows went to his hairline.

“-and even we could feel his happiness radiating from there!” Roman continued. “So, now we are here in your room! Because it seems that you are finally unlocking the cage you have trapped around your emotions and we are here to help!”

“We should have known it was you from the start,” Virgil said with a shrug. “The thoughts were too thought-out. But, you know, we don’t really apply anything remotely fanciful to you.” A pause. “So… what gives?”

Logan sighed and sat down at his desk chair. “You didn’t figure out from the thoughts you received?”

Virgil shook his head and sat down on Logan’s bed, Roman following suit. “Whatever you were feeling didn’t give us super specific ideas,” he explained. “Mostly just this makes no sense and what if it’s not reciprocated and I have no clue what I’m doing. Very not you, Lo.”

“And besides,” Roman said, leaning back on his hands. “We figured you would feel better if you told us yourself instead of us barging in here and screaming out your feelings.”

Logan arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t that exactly what you two did?”

Roman waved his hand dismissively. “Okay, maybe, but we didn’t shout any specifics. That has to count for something.”

Logan sighed with a shrug. “Perhaps.”

“So,” Roman said. “What’s bothering you, Specs?”

Logan didn’t answer. He didn’t even know where to start. Instead, he turned back to his desk and ran his eyes over the whiteboard again. Ask Roman for help written four times and crossed off four times. Write a poem written twice and crossed off twice (if he couldn’t verbalize his thoughts, how could writing them be any better?). Tell Patton written first and ferociously scribbled out. Don’t say anything written once and never crossed out.

“Patton, huh?”

Logan nearly jumped out of his skin upon realizing that Virgil was shadowing him. He flipped the whiteboard over and slammed it back face-down, jostling everything else on his desk.

Roman arched an eyebrow. “Patton?”

“You know,” Virgil said. “I think we made a video that fits a situation just like this and I’m pretty sure I said some bullshit like ‘be yourself’ and it ended up being the best idea of the night.”

Logan felt his stomach drop further and further as he watched Roman quickly put the pieces together in his head. “Oh, that’s adorable!” Roman exclaimed. “You like Patton!”

Logan shushed Roman for fear of any heightened emotions catering to the heart (literally) would just call Patton here. And Logan was not ready to deal with that. Roman clamped his hands over his mouth but Logan could still tell that there was a grin behind them.

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Logan rushed out. “I have no clue what’s going on and I have no clue what I’m doing.”

The grin fell off Roman’s face into a frown and his hands into his lap. Virgil furrowed his eyebrows. “That’s… not you.”

“Yes, Virgil, I am well aware of that,” Logan snapped. Virgil shifted his eyes and took a small step back. Logan then sighed and adjusted his glasses, pushing them back up the bridge of his nose. “I apologize for snapping at you, I just… this makes no sense.” He flipped back over the whiteboard, this time displaying it to his two companions. “Doesn’t none of this make any sense?”

Roman read over the mostly crossed off list before sliding a glare that contained little bite to Logan. “Just letting you know that I’m extremely offended that I was crossed off that list not once, not twice, but four times.”

“I’m sorry, I just cannot think of a good idea,” Logan said, absent minded, as he read the list back over.

“Another blow to my ego, but it’s okay, I’ll live,” Roman said. “Because we are here to help! Even J.D-lightful over here!”

“I’m more here to be the realistic one,” Virgil interjected and Logan nodded in agreement.

“Still, it’s helping,” Roman beamed. “But your problem is that you’re being too methodical about it, Logan. Love, attraction-” Roman corrected, which Logan appreciated as it eased his rising anxiety “-isn’t about science and numbers. It’s about how you connect with someone. It doesn’t have to make sense.”

“But it should!” Logan said. “I am Logic. I am supposed to be level headed and I’m not supposed to feel things. Doesn’t it strike either of you as odd that I’m… feeling something?”

Virgil and Roman both shared a look and a frown before turning back to Logan. “Logan,” Virgil said slowly. “You know you’re allowed to, like, feel things right? Just because you’re Logic doesn’t mean that you’re some emotionless robot.”

“It’s what we told Patton,” Roman said. “You don’t have to hold back what you feel. Feel what you feel and don’t apply so much logic to it, Logic!”

Logan sighed with a shake of his head. “Redundant and a pun,” he criticized. “And I don’t even understand how I would go about expressing these feelings.”

“You could tell him,” Roman suggested.

Both Logan and Virgil pointed to the scribbled out Tell Patton.

Roman rolled his eyes. “It does not have to be that difficult. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Everything,” both Virgil and Logan said.

Roman pointed at Logan. “Hey, I can’t lose you to the dark side,” he said. “Try to stay remotely positive, at least.”

“We’re just being realistic,” Logan said. “So many things can go wrong, not that they will happen, but they can and I should be prepared for all outcomes.”

“Well, don’t think so much!” Roman said.

“Roman, I’m Logic, I’m-”

“Oh my god, we are literally about to have the same conversation again,” Virgil said with an eyeroll. “I think we all understand at this point that you’re Logic and you don’t know how to understand the things you feel, we get that part. We also all know that you have no clue what to do, and that Princey over here is ready to get you an engagement ring. So, now here’s a thought, instead of making up ideas that you would never do in the first place, like writing a fucking poem, you take my bullshit advice and just be yourself.”

“But don’t you think that a grand romantic gesture would be nice?” Roman raised an eyebrow.

“Sure, if it was you,” Virgil said. “But it’s not. And this is Patton we’re talking about, you both realize that, right? Patton would probably explode with happiness at anything Logan does.”

Logan opened his mouth to disagree, but then realized that Virgil was most likely right. Out of all of them, Virgil hung around with Patton the most, and would therefore know best what he liked and did not.

Logan sighed and leaned his head back, staring out of his skylight into the sky above him. “Virgil, I cannot believe that you’re the one who figured out a sound and reasonable plan.”

“What can I say,” Virgil said. “I can be surprising.”

Logan quickly found that “being himself” was, in his opinion, an awful idea. “Being himself” was vague; it had no real base. What if who Logan was was not someone Patton enjoyed?

(Yes, Logan realized how illogical the statement was. Patton rarely ever showed distaste with who Logan was, but Logan was, frankly, very stressed and not very objective.)

It also did not help that Logan was finally able to put a name to the things he felt upon seeing Patton. Now knowing that it was attraction and not just an unusual, sudden heightened anxiety, Logan became more aware of how nothing made sense.

He could finally admit, at least to himself, that he was, perhaps, attracted to Patton. That much was undeniable; it would be illogical to try to. He felt a type of connection to Patton that drew him in and was different than what he felt towards the other sides. While he did, for the most part, enjoy the other sides’ presence, Patton was more enamoring to Logan.

So, a third of Logan’s problems were solved. He knew what he was feeling and came to accept it. Now it’s just figuring out what he was doing and how to prepare for things when they inevitably go wrong.

Not inevitably, Logan thought from where he currently was on the couch, correcting himself. He had long since stopped paying attention to the book in his hands and was, instead, staring at words while not reading them. While there are things that are inevitable, this is not one of them. My own anxieties have just tricked me into thinking that things will go catastrophically wrong because of how long I have worried about this.

He sighed to himself and finally closed the unread book. He tapped his fingers erratically on the hardcover, staring off into nothingness with his eyebrows furrowed in thought.

This should all be quite simple, he thought. Either Patton reciprocates what I feel, which would be the best outcome, or he does not. It should be an incomplex situation, a fifty-fifty split. Yet, it isn’t. There is a range of what could happen if Patton doesn’t reciprocate. He could distance himself to avoid further awkwardness. He could pity me. He could, rather uncharacteristically, laugh at my failure. There is also a range of what could happen if Patton does reciprocate. I have never dealt with these emotions before. What if I mess everything up? What if Patton is disheartened by my lack of experience? Patton is the heart, the emotions. He knows how to deal with attraction. I, however, do not know what I am doing. I don’t think that I would be good enough for him. I-

“You’ve been staring at that wall for a while.”

Logan’s body jolted and whipped his head to the side to face whoever interrupted him. Virgil stood in the doorway from living room to kitchen, an eyebrow raised at Logan.

“How long have you been standing there?” Logan asked, composing himself. He slowly, carefully, set the book down on the coffee table.

Virgil shrugged. “A while,” he said. “You looked pretty deep in thought.”

“I was,” Logan agreed. “And you interrupted me from it.”

“Because I had a feeling you were about to spiral down into some logic induced methodical break down,” Virgil said. “I’m supposed to be the anxious one here, not you.”

Logan sighed and flicked his hair, which had fallen, out of his eyes. “I thank you for your concern, Virgil, but I was just thinking.”

“About what?” Virgil approached the couch and sat down on the other side of it, leaning against the armrest.

“I think you know what,” Logan said quietly, looking cautiously around. While in his own room, he generally had enough privacy from the others unless he was experiencing heightened emotions. However, in the Commons, others could easily overhear what was going on if they so desired. The last thing Logan wanted was to voice his thoughts, let alone Patton intruding on them while doing so.

“Okay, I know it’s probably really hypocritical coming from me, but you don’t have to be so stressed,” Virgil said.

“You’re right, that was hypocritical coming from you,” Logan noted and Virgil rolled his eyes.

“I just don’t think you need to be so stressed out,” Virgil continued. “I mean, really use that logical brain of yours and think: what’s the worst that could happen?”

Logan narrowed his eyes at the anxious side. Those were words that Roman had thrown at him a couple days back and, then, both Virgil and Roman disputed them. “That’s a very sudden shift from what you thought a couple days ago,” he said suspiciously.

Virgil shrugged. “I just think that the actual worst that could happen isn’t that bad,” he said, picking at a loose thread on his hoodie. “I mean, it’s Patton.”

“It’s Patton what?”

Logan then decided that the most logical thing he could do would be to stay in his room forever.

“Oh, Virgil and I were just having a discussion,” Logan said, suddenly more interested in adjusting his tie and not in Patton, who was in front of the two of them. In an attempt to divert the conversation from anywhere but where it started, he continued with, “So, Patton, what brings you here?”

“Well I just saw that you both were here,” Patton said, taking a seat. “And Roman’s in his room brainstorming away and I didn’t want to disturb him, so I came to see what you two were doing!”

“I was just telling Virgil of a project that I’m working on. Really, I should be getting back to work soon. A lot is to be done,” Logan lied without much thought. He ignored the way that he could feel Virgil’s stare on him.

“Oh, Lo, you gotta make sure to give yourself a break,” Patton said with a frown. “It’s not good for you to constantly be overworking yourself.”

Logan sighed and stood. Despite not looking at him, Logan knew that Virgil’s eyes were still boring into him. “Perhaps,” he said. “But I had actually taken a break for once.” He tapped the hardcover of the book on the coffee table before picking it up.

“Are you sure?” Patton asked, his eyes following Logan’s every move. Logan suddenly felt like his movements were more robotic and willed himself to keep his composure as he gathered his things. “I was thinking of putting on a movie,” Patton continued. “You could rest for a little while longer?”

“I thank you, Patton, but I really must get back to work,” Logan said. “Of course, I will make an attempt to join you the next time.”

Patton nodded at that and gave Logan a smile. “You know you’re always welcome,” he said. “And that we’ll be down here for whenever you need another break!”

“I’ll try to make it down here once in a while, considering that a break is the best for an optimal performance,” he said before sinking down into his own room.

The lie felt heavy and bitter in his mouth and, now, Logan couldn’t quite tell if it was better than expressing what he felt.

When Logan returned to his room, he tossed the book onto the foot of his bed with a sigh before sitting against his headrest. He stared up out of his skylight and into the sky bursting blues, dusted with oranges and pinks.

Subjectively, that went terribly.

Objectively, it still went terribly.

Logan decided that he had most definitely did everything wrong, and that while he was still bursting with feelings that he did not understand, he doubted that anything he did made Patton feel something. If anything, Virgil was currently cringing at Logan’s inelegant display, and he feared that he hurt Patton by disappearing so quickly.

He did not know how long he sat there, staring up at the sky slowly changing from the blue of the afternoon to the orange and red hues of dusk. The colors stood stark in contrast against the blues, blacks, and greys of his room, and he was so enthralled with losing himself in the change that his heart actually jumped when there was a knock on his door.

“Logan, it’s me,” Patton said from the other side of the door. “Can I come in?”

Logan hesitated, staring at the door and knowing Patton was on the other side. Patton, after Logan’s display, still came to see him. Even after he rushed out, talking about a project that didn’t exist, Patton still showed up to Logan’s door.

No wonder Logan felt this way.

“Come in,” Logan finally said.

Patton slowly opened the door and stepped inside Logan’s room. He gave Logan a gentle smile.

“I came to see if you were doing alright,” Patton said, quietly shutting the door behind him. “Virgil said that you were really stressed.”

Logan nodded. “Yes, stressed about that project.” He hoped his voice carried enough confidence to make it seem like the discarded book on the foot of his bed was enough to call a project.

“About something that’s actually happening and bothering you,” Patton corrected, his voice soft. Logan felt his cheeks flush at being called out for his lie and he pulled his knees up to his chest.

“I… apologize for the dishonesty, Patton,” Logan said quietly, looking anywhere but at his companion.

“It’s okay, Logan,” Patton smiled at him. He moved the book aside and sat cross-legged in front of Logan. “I’m just,” Patton then sighed and his smile melted away into a frown. “I’m just worried about you, Lo. You’ve seemed really tense lately, and I need you to know that I care about you. You know you can talk to me if something’s bothering you.”

When Logan finally looked to Patton, his words caught in his throat. He opened his mouth only to close it and, instead, push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His hair fell down into his eyes and, before he could do anything, Patton reached forward and gently combed it out of the way.

The soft touch set every nerve in Logan alive and he sprung up from the bed so ungracefully that he stumbled backwards upon his feet hitting the ground. He felt something sharp and painful spike through his chest at seeing how hurt Patton looked, but any words he wanted to say got lost on their journey from his brain to his mouth.

“I-I’m sorry, Logan,” Patton stammered, his expression desperately concerned. “I didn’t mean to offend you-”

“No,” Logan said perhaps too loudly. He cleared his throat in hopes of calming himself down. “I’m fine, Patton. You’re fine, Patton. I have just been slightly stressed, as sometimes happens. A bit overwhelmed, but I’m fine. It is all things that I can work through as time progresses and then the stress will not be so consuming. I’m fine.”

“Say I’m fine one more time and I might believe you,” Patton said quietly.

“I…” Logan trailed off and ran a hand through his hair. His eyes wandered around his room for something logical, something that would tell him what to do. However, his whiteboards were blank and the setting sun up above him had yet to release the stars for Logan to consult. When his gaze finally fell back upon Patton, he realized that Roman had been right. There’s nothing logical about attraction. Nothing methodical and nothing to be calculated. It was unscientific chemistry and the first time Logan couldn’t make an analytical, foolproof plan. It was all about who the people involved were, and in this case, it was Patton and Logan. It was undeniably illogical, but it would be just the same if Logan refused to say anything.

“I find myself rather attracted to you, Patton,” Logan finally began. “I know that it makes no sense, considering that I am Logic and, therefore, supposed to be the one who doesn’t quite… do emotions. I really do not understand how this works. I believe it’s quite obvious that I’ve never felt anything like his before. But, Patton, you’re different. Typically I am not a fan of change or letting things run off the desired course but… this, I don’t mind. I only ask that, if you don’t reciprocate, you say so now so that proper amends could be made.”

Patton gaped at him and Logan immediately felt the gravity of his mistake. He opened his mouth to continue speaking, to ramble out a messy apology before confining himself to his room because Thomas could do videos without him physically present, Logic isn’t a feeling it’s the physical representation-

His train of thought screeched to a halt when Patton stood and slowly approached Logan. As Patton grew closer, Logan could see the light dusting of a blush on his cheeks and how his eyes practically sparkled under the light from the skylight.

“I can see the gears turning in your head,” Patton said with a light laugh. They were close enough where Patton was whispering, yet Logan had no trouble hearing him.

“It’s what I do,” Logan said, his own voice barely filling his room.

“You do more than that, though,” Patton said. “You can do more than that. You always deny yourself feelings but… you feel Logan, I know you do. Sure, it may not be like the rest of us, but that doesn’t make it any less real. You’ve told yourself for so long that you can’t feel things, but that’s only hurting you further, Lo. You don’t have to hold yourself back, or think that feeling things is stupid or wrong. Take it from me, I mean, bottling up your feelings never leads to good things. You can show emotions around us, Lo, and still be our brainiac!”

Logan shook his head in disbelief, staring at Patton. “I don’t think anyone else sees me like you do.”

Patton beamed. “I just care about you a lot, Logan,” he said. He then offered his hands to Logan and Logan, with minimal hesitation, took them. “But you know that we all care about you, and we all want you to take care of yourself and not be afraid to feel things.” Logan nodded along with Patton’s words and Patton’s smile, somehow, shone brighter and he gently squeezed Logan’s hands. “And yes, I do.”

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “You do what?”

“Reciprocate.”

Logan blinked at Patton and Patton just stared back. “Oh,” was all Logan could manage out.

Patton leaned his head back with a laugh. “After that whole heartfelt speech you gave, all you can say is oh.” Logan sputtered and felt his face flush, but Patton only continued to laugh and Logan realized that Patton was blushing, too. “Adorable.”

Patton then took one of his hands away from Logan’s and cupped Logan’s cheek. “Can I?” he asked, his voice suddenly soft. Logan, his own voice trapped in his throat and his heart pounding against his ribs, nodded.

Patton smiled before bringing Logan towards him, pressing their lips together in a gentle kiss. Patton’s other hand cupped Logan’s other cheek, both of his hands now carefully framing Logan’s jaw. Logan, after only a moment’s hesitation, lightly latched onto Patton’s shirt, keeping the other close.

When the pair pulled away, Patton rested his forehead on Logan’s.

“Not so scary, right?” Patton asked.

Logan shook his head. “Not at all,” he admitted.

“I know this all is new to you,” Patton continued. “We don’t have to rush any of this. It can all be at your pace.”

Logan let out a small breath of relief and a smile formed. “I appreciate that, Patton. Quite a lot.”

Patton beamed and grabbed Logan’s hands again, squeezing them tightly. “I have to say though, Logan,” he said. “I’ve had a bit of a crush on you for a while. I kinda kept it to myself because I didn’t really want to pressure you? But now things are working out! It’s funny, though, I actually talked to Virgil about this a couple days ago and he was very encouraging. I guess even he had a good sense of intuition for this!”

Logan suddenly, very clearly, understood why Virgil’s plan had suddenly shifted from “everything can go wrong” to “what can go wrong?” and he made a mental note to have some strong words with Virgil.

“Coincidentally enough, I had a very similar experience,” Logan laughed instead. Confronting Virgil about the fact that he could have saved Logan from his own anxieties would just have to be postponed until another day.

Logan had something, someone, much more occupying on his mind.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logicality #logan sanders #patton sanders #stuff i write

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