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waywardsalt · 2 months

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rough rough draft of chapter 1 of the bellum x linebeck fic

Though the storm had passed and the sun finally shown upon the sea again, Linebeck felt gloomy. He leaned against his ship’s rope railings and stared at the horizon. The night before, the pounding of the rain had put him at ease. Now, the bright afternoon had brought back that familiar anxiety. After some thinking, Linebeck pushed himself away from the railing and resolved to begin his morning chores.

As the only person on his ship, it was up to Linebeck to take care of it- and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. He knew his beloved steamship like the back of his hand, and he collected a bucket as he blinked the last of the sleep from his eyes. Firstly, he gathered seawater to dump into the engine’s storage tank. The ship was drifting at the moment, but once Linebeck would turn it on, the heat would build up in the engine and the water would boil and evaporate and build up steam to get the wheels moving.

Linebeck knelt at the lowest edge of the deck and dunked the bucket into the water for the ninth- tenth? - time. He’d have to do some extra engine maintenance before he got moving. He’d been traveling during the entire storm, likely pushing the engine to its limits. But after the water gathering, Linebeck checked the hull for barnacles and scratches, checked the railings for damaged rope, checked his food and water supplies, barely giving himself a moment of rest while he went through the familiar motions.

Since he began sailing, Linebeck’s life had been altogether monotonous and unpredictable. His ship was one he had designed himself, and knew better than anyone else how to take care of and operate it. He had no desire to take on a crew, and knew from experience that they’d only hold him back- trying to teach new people how to work his ship was incredibly tedious and often led to them making mistakes and doing more harm than good. The last bastard he’d temporarily hired and bothered to teach about his ship- Linebeck scowled and shook his head. Not even worth thinking about, now.

The storm had replenished his fresh water supply. It had been bad enough to obscure visibility across the sea, so Linebeck had done some fishing. If he cared for gods, he would have thanked one that he made it through without getting sick.

He didn’t need a crew. Linebeck hadn’t had a long-term crew member for what- seven years now? They just made him feel uneasy and he could never muster up the patience to put up with them.

Or maybe he kept finding the wrong people. That had certainly happened before. He was never particularly good with other people. Linebeck was almost certain that he’d made a good few new enemies just in the last month. His eyes scanned the horizon as he walked back out onto the deck. Linebeck tightened his grip on his mop’s handle. He was totally alone. And yet his skin prickled with unease.

“…No point worrying,” he mumbled to himself. He started mopping the deck, forcing himself to keep his eyes trained on the wood. His last chore of the morning was always the most soothing. He moved slowly and rhythmically, beginning at the prow and slowly making his way back to the cabin. His ship was small, though large enough to be comfortable for him. The deck sloped upwards a few feet from the cabin and plateaued, about a foot higher and better to accommodate the rooms and machinery beneath.

The air was warm and humid; Linebeck brushed his hair out of his face and behind his shoulders. He considered removing his coat, but he was nearly done mopping- no point in wasting the time. The heat was never a big issue for him. He was perfectly suited to the sea, and Linebeck felt more than confidant handling every aspect of this life on his own. No problems whatsoever. No good reason for the anxiety that refused to leave his mind.

Maybe there was a good reason, the same reason why he kept scanning the horizon.

Finished mopping the deck, Linebeck turned to admire it. The storm had cleaned it well enough, but now that the sky was clear he wasn’t just going to cut out part of his morning routine.

With everything done for the morning, Linebeck gathered up his mop and the bucket and moved to put them away. The bucket would be dumped out and left with other containers in the storage room, the mop left in the engine room… and then the engine would need to be started up. The nearest inhabited island was two days away (with good conditions), so while Linebeck had no need to get going right that moment, he felt safer with the engine running.

To get the engine started, Linebeck pulled a lever by the wheel up and waited a moment as he heard the hissing of steam start, and then stop. He knelt down in front of the storage tank. Enough water for the day, that was for sure. He withdrew his matchbox from a pocket in his coat and struck a match, humming idly to himself as he tossed it in the space below the water. It would only be a few minutes before the ship could get going; over the years, Linebeck had gone back and forth on the design of the engine, and managed to make it especially efficient with different materials and methods, and was quite proud of it. While the water heated up, he shut the tank door and sat back, resting a moment.

He’d gotten… some sleep last night. He’d dreamed briefly, and didn’t feel as terrible as he usually did. Some sleep. Better than no sleep at all. Linebeck laid down on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. He stared at the winding pipes at the tops of the walls and then shut his eyes. If he was lucky, he could perhaps find a few minutes to nap. Just a few minutes…

The ticking of the machinery around him slowly faded in as the engine properly started up. The sound melted into with the noise of the ocean outside, and Linebeck felt his anxieties ease. The familiarity of his daily routine eased his mind like nothing else.

The next island was north of his position… Linebeck let out a long breath. He’d have to at least position his ship facing north, and get started within the hour. He sat up and stretched. If he got started now, he could reach the island by late tomorrow. The engine was ready to go, and Linebeck smiled to himself as he fiddled with some of the smaller levers and switches, listening to the subtle changes in the ticking and clicking around him.

He paused when he heard up an unfamiliar noise. Linebeck stilled his hands, suddenly feeling cold.

Without thinking, Linebeck kicked the engine into proper operation and after a moment, the wheels on either side of the ship started turning and he quickly steered the ship in the opposite direction of that odd sound. He heard it again, from outside his ship- the unmistakable sound of cannon fire, and Linebeck was not brave enough to stop and check to see if it was aimed at him.

It was usually aimed at him, anyways.

Linebeck steered his ship away and locked the wheel in place; he felt his heart pounding in his chest as more muffled canon fire reached his ears. One sounded closer than the rest, and he managed to tear himself away from the wheel and run up to deck. Running away was nice, but he needed to know where to run away to.

It seemed like he was getting chased more and more. Linebeck figured he ought to start a list of the crews that had it out for him; that was something to do once he was safe. He stumbled out onto the deck and leaned over the rope railing, staring at the southern horizon. Sure enough, he could see a pirate ship in the distance heading his way, and the wind was in their favor.

Linebeck gripped the railings until the rope started to dig into his skin. The hell did he do to them? He recognized the decorated sails as the sails of the ship that’d been pursuing him before the storm. Their captain was one he’d cheated out of several hundred rupees in poker- or was that a different crew? No time to think it over while they got closer and closer. More cannon fire rang out, and Linebeck jumped back as the cannonball splashed into the water dangerously close to his ship.

Sailing in a straight line was a terrible idea. Better to leverage his steamship’s advantages and focus on disrupting their aim. Linebeck wildly looked around. No rocks or islands in sight. His best hope was to run for it and hope that either they’d run out of cannonballs or the wind would die down. He raced back inside.

He was just one man; why did all of these pirates decide that being slighted by him once marked him as the biggest threat to them on the entire Great Sea? Pirates were so petty. He flinched when he heard a muffled splash and felt the ship rock. Linebeck gripped the wheel tightly and started turning the ship west, his sweaty hands almost slipping off. He gritted his teeth as the cannon fire sounded closer and the ship rocked again.

The last time he’d been pursued like this, a cannonball had burnt his hull and cost him several days of sleep. Linebeck turned the ship far enough around to spy the pursuing pirates again; the moment he heard the cannon fire again, he spun the wheel to sail in the opposite direction. Turning was slow, but his ship never stopped moving. He’d had nightmares about one of the wheels being damage, and Linebeck felt weak in the knees just thinking about it.

As the pirate ship slipped out of view, the waters around his ship were more violently disrupted, and Linebeck yelped as his ship was more violently rocked by the waves. There was no cannon fire, no sound of a cannonball hitting the waves- and the water was clearly churning too violently for it to have been a cannonball. He clung to the steering wheel for dear life, his knees nearly buckling underneath him, and the cacophonous sound of an especially large wave made him wince. The ship rocked again, but still no cannon fire. Instead, Linebeck picked up a new muffled noise.

…Splintering wood?

The wood of his own ship was fine, there was no motion asides from the violent waves rocking his ship, but the distant splintering continued, and with it, faraway screams. For the second time in barely five minutes, Linebeck’s curiosity prevailed over his fear. On shaky legs he stumbled up onto his deck- slick with water that had poured onboard, and nearly fell over the railings when he reached them.

The pursuing pirate ship was being torn apart by something. Something had pulled the main mast down and split it in half, tearing through the sails and ripping the vessel in half. Linebeck squinted, hardly seeing anything that could be causing it, then caught a glimpse of what looked like a thick black rope curled around the prow, tearing it clean off and dragging it into the sea. The way those ‘ropes’ moved; Linebeck slowly slid down into a crouch as he realized that a sea monster was what was attacking that ship.

One pirate jumped from where the prow had been, likely trying to escape and swim away, but a black tentacle shot out of the water and grabbed them midair and yanked them below the water. Linebeck felt frozen to the spot, more than grateful that he wasn’t the creature’s target, but he feared that if he took advantage of the chaos and sailed away, he would be attacked next.

The pursuing ship began to sink, and the sharp cracking of wood was piercing as it reached Linebeck’s ears. The hull was torn in two, more tentacles appearing to crush them into unsalvageable wreckages. The fear that shot through Linebeck urged him to straighten back up. He started to hurry back into the engine room, but stopped in his tracks as the tentacles withdrew back into the water.

The pirate ship’s remains slowly sank, survivors clinging to any floating pieces. Linebeck stared at the water around his ship. That… thing had stopped. That sea monster that he and those pirates had the misfortune to disturb.

That sea monster- Linebeck had researched every possible hostile creature that had been seen on the Great Sea, and that certainly had to have been one of them. He grabbed onto his railing again, feeling too sick to move his gaze from the sinking ship down to the waters just below him. He stood at the end of the railing, steady on the sloping deck despite the way his limbs shook and his heart hammered in his chest.

There was a sea monster in these waters. It had just wiped out an entire pirate crew in hardly a minute. From what Linebeck could recall, that pirate crew was rather prepared and experienced, and their ship certainly wasn’t some glorified piece of driftwood. This wasn’t just an overgrown gyorg or some other typical sea monster- he was at the mercy of the kind of sea monster that had stories passed around. The kinds that endured for decades or even centuries and were either worshipped or feared. He’d never seen a regular sea monster that had those kinds of tentacles and was that quick and deadly.

One of the stranded pirates was suddenly and violently pulled under water. Linebeck lowered himself back down to a crouch, staring at the now-empty patch of water. After a few moments, a faint red hue bloomed from deep under the surface.

I’m going to die.

The thought seemed to echo in Linebeck’s head. It wasn’t a thought he was unfamiliar with, but it was much, much more frantic now than ever. He was going to drown or be eaten. Even if he got out unscathed, his ship likely wouldn’t, and that sounded just as bad as if he got injured. Linebeck shakily stared down at the water mere feet from him. Every tiny wave and ripple in the water heightened his anxiety, and his mind raced. Another pirate was pulled under the water, eaten, and the waters were still for a moment. Then, there was a subtle ripple further away from the wreckage and closer to Linebeck’s ship.

How do I get out of this?

Linebeck’s terror forced him to his feet, and he raced into his ship’s cabin. That monster was more than capable of catching up with that pirate ship, and Linebeck stumbled on his way down the stairs as his ship rocked slightly.

This monster was capable of killing and catching him with ease, and it tore apart that pirate ship with ease, and it was eating the survivors, and Linebeck was up next if he didn’t think fast. His feet brought him into his ship’s cramped kitchen, and he stood still in the doorway for a moment. His fear and quick-thinking seemed to crash into each other, and his mind went blank as he stared around. Linebeck switched his attention from his utensils to the fish he’d recently caught and had yet to clean to the cupboards. Why the hell had he run here?

The sea monster killed all of the pirates. It was probably chasing after him now. It tore apart the ship, and… ate the pirates. Ate the pirates. Linebeck stared at his recently-caught fish. There were a pair of smaller amberjacks he’d picked up during the storm, a seabass he had a few different plans for, and then a large loovar he’d been planning to sell. He suddenly felt itchy looking at that loovar. He was going to sell it. It was a large, pristine loovar, with sleek, undamaged scales and was over five feet long and took up the entire counter that fit in the narrow kitchen. It was valuable and would net him a good sum of rupees at the next island he docked at.

Linebeck’s ship rocked again, violently enough to knock him off balance. The terror finally mixed with his quick thinking and he grabbed and yanked the loovar off the counter, stumbling a moment under its weight. He slung it over his shoulder and hauled it up the stairs, his shoulder aching before he was even in the engine room. Goddesses, his coat was going to reek if he made it out of this alive.

He paused to grab his mop and tuck it into the crook of his elbow and stumbled a bit, stubbornly keeping the fish from touching the floor. The ship rocked under his feet again, and Linebeck shuddered and hurried out onto the deck. The water around his ship’s hull ripped every few moments, and Linebeck didn’t hesitate in letting the loovar drop onto the wood. He kicked it off the deck, and it fell unceremoniously into the water and floated barely a few inches from the hull- too close.

With the mop he prodded at it and sent it floating slowly away from his ship. And so, Linebeck huddled at the edge of his deck, leaning against his mop for support. For just a moment, the waters were still. The loovar bobbed on the water’s surface and the sunlight glinted off its scales. Linebeck exhaled slowly. For all he knew, the monster could have already left. He could probably grab the loovar if he was careful.

Linebeck started to reach back out with the mop, but drew it back as the water around the loovar suddenly started to ripple. The rippling grew more furious, and the water began to bubble and small waves started rushing out from around the fish- a dark shape was just barely visible deep in the water. The shape rushed to the surface, and Linebeck only got the quickest glimpse before falling backwards onto the deck as the largest waves yet set his ship violently rocking.

It was huge, easily half the size of his ship, and a stunning yellow. For the split second he saw it, Linebeck couldn’t discern any detail, but he didn’t miss the mouth full of sharp teeth that engulfed the loovar. Linebeck had fallen onto his back and didn’t dare move as the sea calmed down, the blurry image of the beast burnt into his mind. He stared up at the sky and realized that the fear in his chest had eased. Had he appeased the creature? The rocking of his ship slowly stopped, and he felt he was in no hurry to get up.

There was a slight splashing, and Linebeck jolted upright. He stared off the edge of the deck, at where the loovar had been floating. It stared back at him. The sunlight glinted off its yellow body, greenish in some spots, and golden in others. Under the water, the rest of it was just a murky shadow. In its mouth, encircled by those teeth, was an eye that stared back at him, the tiny pupil within a burning yellow and orange, surrounded by deep black. A monstrous eye, and one that Linebeck could’ve sworn he’d seen somewhere. Something about the thing’s unblinking gaze made a sense of visceral horror return to Linebeck, and before he could think it through, he scrambled to his feet.

The creature didn’t move in the water, but its eye followed his movements. Despite the hammering of his heart, Linebeck couldn’t tear his gaze away from that eye. His limbs felt locked in place, and his breathing came in in ragged gasps and he realized just how bad his situation had gotten. There was no way that loovar was enough to save him. He’d seen the way the creature had torn apart that pirate ship. He’d seen the way it had grabbed and killed those pirates. There was nothing keeping it from killing him next.

Then, without any sound but the sounds of the water, the creature sank down into the ocean and out of sight.

Linebeck immediately hurried back into his cabin, just barely remembering to snatch up his mop.

He wasted no time in getting his ship up and running again, and set a course for the island before even thinking of relaxing. Linebeck anxiously surveyed the sea as he steered the ship away, but spotted nothing out of the ordinary.

…Maybe the loovar had satisfied that… thing. Linebeck tried not to think much about it. But his nerves were still shot by the encounter, and he stiffly steered until the sun began to set.

He didn’t anchor the ship until stars glittered in the sky. Linebeck moved gingerly around his ship, half expecting that monster to return. But the evening was quiet, and Linebeck eventually felt relaxed enough after doing his rounds. He collected every book he had that mentioned sea monsters and went out on deck to read and rest.

Linebeck rested against the prow. He set the books in his lap and started flipping through each one, quickly skipping through what turned out to be a catalogue of common seafaring enemies, and finding a short collection of short stories based on powerful creatures around the world. As the sun dipped further below the horizon, Linebeck finally reached a much more informative book- one that had been gathering dust at the edge of the shelf- and flipped through more slowly, inspecting each illustration. Dragons, sentient plants, fish creatures, and Linebeck slowed down upon reaching the chapter reserved for deities. It didn’t take long for him to turn a page and find a familiar illustration.

It was little more than a collection of sketches, but that eye was unmistakable. Linebeck leaned over the book with a small spark of triumph in his heart. He was right- it was one he’d heard of before, a creature named ‘Bellum’. Apparently a powerful, demonic sea monster.

Linebeck felt a faint shiver down his spine and he sat up and stared off across the sea. He shut the book and gathered up the rest. Back in the cabin, he locked the door out, and hesitated with his hand on the knob. That nearby island was his destination, a small island with a small town that he’d been for. He needed supplies, needed to restock on food and parts and whatever else eluded him at the moment.

He double-checked the lock and silently headed down into the storage room. Linebeck left the volume with the information on Bellum on the table, and put the rest back on the bookshelf behind the thin bar that kept them from falling out.

Bellum.

Linebeck turned and stared at the book on the table. In the dim light of the few lit lanterns in the room, the book seemed almost ominous with its dark cover and elaborate spine. Where had he picked this one up? Was it one from home, or something he’d bought on a whim a while ago? Either way, it was worth reading through and taking notes on- even if the information he wanted seemed to only take up two pages.

Linebeck idly rubbed his hands together. The only indication of his lingering anxiety was the thin layer of sweat on his palms. Most sea monsters were known through shared stories and rumored sightings. Once he got all he could from the book, he could start asking around at islands. With any luck, though, he wouldn’t have to see that thing again.

#my writing #cant remember the other tag and i do NOT have time to check #uhhhhhh would greatly appreciate feedback/constructive criticism #just know that ill disregard anything related to the story bc thats set in stone- looking more for stuff with the actual prose #or a bit on how linebeck is written (he doesnt feel. anxious. enough so i will ahve to work on that)#if the formatting is fucked then idk. when i posted that warriors thing a while back it fucked up the formatting then too #tbh. not feeling as bad abt this as i wqs before giving a quick editing read through. i still think it needs some real work tho #‘with any luck though he wouldn’t have to see that thing again’ <- thoughts of a guy whos gonna fuck that thing by the end of the year #depends on your definition of fuck ig. i know whats going and i think fuck is a bit if an exaggeration but its also funny #anyways i haved mixted feelings on this but i do really want to improve it so. this aint ff.net or ao3 but id appreciate uh. replies?#whatever here its just shy of 4k words iirc #long post

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anghraine · 7 months

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Speaking of fic: the most intense negative comments I've ever gotten have been for Season of Courtship, but the most "...huh" are definitely the complaints about First Impressions (my f!Darcy/m!Elizabeth retelling of P&P).

I was poking around old fic accounts and off AO3(/Dreamwidth), there are a bunch of complaints about Catherine (f!Darcy) that are either like a) why would you even write Darcy as a woman, preposterous or b) she's cold and nasty and Henry (m!Elizabeth) only falls for her because he's a weak man who wants to be dominated.

(My other commenters have generally treated Catherine as the main attraction of the fic, so it is genuinely interesting to see how different the responses can get outside of my usual haunts! But also the idea of femdom Hal/Catherine is hilarious to me.)

#not to hugely overextrapolate but ao3 comments being like 'step on me catherine' while ff.net has the 'what a bitch' ones #is peak ao3 vs ff.net in my experience #also there is no iteration of darcy who i can envision domming any version of elizabeth lmao #there were also the comments on sw fic that were like 'i GUESS it's okay that you don't cite tcw since you're a movie purist but...'#lol thanks for the permission #fic talk #fic talk: season of courtship #fic talk: first impressions #austen blogging #austen fanwank #genderbending

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fivedayslater · 1 year

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So I noticed a trend recently in my daily kudos email from ao3, specifically for the one piece fics

I’ve seen a few other op writers talk about it too, so I took the liberty to graph it

That’s quite a general upward trend! What could have caused this?

Well not to be all correlation = causation but

Could be why?

Here it is with just a handful of fics to see it better

And here’s just the totals from each day for the Full Effect

All my op fics are under One Piece or One Piece (Anime & Manga), so if all the new readers are from the live action, I think it’s neat that they’re so invested in the series that they’re looking through the fic that’s already there. Regardless of spoilers even (that big orange line, Learning to Listen, has spoilers all the way up to the beginning of Wano)

And I just think it’s neat! I think it’s neat people are enjoying a series I’ve loved for years, and I think it’s very neat that they get to walk into a fandom that’s been going steadily on for decades and have all this fresh content to discover.

So I guess welcome new nakama, I hope you enjoy your stay 😁

#also you should read the manga too #the closest example I can think of to this is when the avengers movie came out #I went to look for fics and found a bunch already there from the comics #also read an opla zosan fic the other day where the authors note said something like #‘the last time I wrote for these guys I had dial up internet’#and yeah zosan has been around forever #anyway #one piece #fanfic #ao3 #also noticed more activity on my ff.net fics too #but that’s just going from ‘0 activity’ to ‘some activity again’

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galaxythreads · 10 months

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hey does anyone know the marvel fic on Fanfiction.net where the Avengers went to visit Asgard and Loki was a slave, but the only slave in all of Asgard because they disbanded the practice and the Avengers were trying to help rescue him and then Odin helped them sneak Loki out because it was the council or something that wanted Loki there? Loki was also characterized as a really soft, nice person and the Avengers were surprised by that?

#i've been looking for this fic FOREVEr #i never finished it but I can't find it to save my life #it might be on ao3 but I know I read it on ff.net #loki #fic help #i remember like vague bits of this fic #but i want to know how it ended #i think at some point in the fic loki also got whipped?

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000marie198 · 8 days

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Suddenly having a favorite character who is also a fandom favorite to a massive extent feels so incredible like where was this feeling my whole life?!

#i remember how sometimes #i had to fight and claw my way out of fandom's pessimism regarding my favs. scroll through millions of pages of fics to find those i like #ofcourse I'm not saying that ppl don't like my favs or they aren't blrobo of the other fans but they weren't fully fandom fav the same way #well Hiccuo was but i didn't know abt ff.net or ao3 ehen i was deep in throes of httyd hyperfixation & most fics were similar to #hat was usually posted on those other sites #also it was during that crossover era. yeah THAT one #but now. gosh most of everyone in th8s fandom loves my blorbo & every single time i open bookmarks for this media in someone's ao3. all fics #are blorbo centric #this feels incredible #this isn't nearly close to being my favorite fanbase here on Tumblr but on ao3 it's becoming a fav very very VERY quickly #u Tails kinnies r so lucky ur boy is fandom fav too (yes every time i opened bookmarks. they were alwayd filled with Tails centric stories)#this feels amazing

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guplia · 8 days

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Oof guys idk what to write rn I have three options:

Continue You look like you've just seen a ghost

Write the next fic for Bad Things Happen Bingo (the next one will either be for "be careful what you wish for" or "deadly game"-- I have drafts for both of them)

Continue writing my Cole wip (it's just him physically suffering for like 1k words lol)

What should I write rn?

#guplia rants #guplia #help?#ninjago fanfictions #you can read my works on ao3 under the same username #also on ff.net but i havent posted everything there #also wattpad and quotev but ive posted almost nothing on both

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seoafin · 9 months

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no idea what you’re looking for in a pjo fic but “Be Sure to Tip Your Waiter (For He's On His Last Dime)” by inkncoffee is a fic of all time to me. i can send u some recs if you give me an idea of what you like :) kisses!!

I READ THAT ONE I love some OOC the olympians (Poseidon) attempt to be good parents fics. guys I'm not joking when I say I spent the last 3 days in bed reading pjo ff I have like 5 different tabs open all with different pairings sorted from most kudos and I'm on like page 20 it's so bad 😭

#I will literally read anything no pairings any pairings but I am very partial to percabeth and solangelo rn #I also rlly like my rarepair nico & Jason fics #also ao3 has like. no tratie fics which is crazy bc I feel like there were so many tratie fics on ff.net??? where did they all GO #im sorry for the ppl that follow me on joyglass i will be spamming u with pjo thinkbarf #ask

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chlorinewriter · 8 months

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Tagged by @erinyra for the fanfiction writer bingo! I haven't done anything like this in ages, but thanks for tagging me! It's fun to think about (and to read through your tags). Tagging @ditttiii and @giurochedadomani in case either of you'd like to participate ^^ Clean template can be found here.

#I was on ff.net for official fanfic sites before Ao3 #although I was writing/posting fic on forums before then #roleplayed on those same sites #sometimes I miss written RP :/#I research while writing but almost never before #and I do it oh so grudgingly #pleasepleaseplease give me feedback I'm like a starving waif waiting for coin and/or cheese & bread donations when I post #*kicks my 7 million unfinished stories under a rug*#have not done it often but writing buzzed is a nice vibe for certain scenes #also I almost chose wanted to be a professional writer #but technically I want to be a PHd #which will involve a lot of writing #but I guess isn't the same thing #and as for this writing I just want to indulge #myself and others lol #with a Monster energy drink but no thanks on tea or coffee

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misslisamiray · 4 months

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I said Chapter 2 would be up today, and here it is!

Please note it's roughly 650 words longer than Chapter 1 - having the whole family talking/arguing meant a lot of dialogue. The following chapters will all focus on 2-3 characters, so they should be shorter. 😊

And now, without further ado, I proudly present the next chapter of Down With the Rickness!

The end of the countdown was drowned out by urgent knocking and the rest of the family yelling at once.

“Rick! Let us in! I have a right to know if there’s some kind of alien mutant sci-fi bacteria in my garage again!”

“Grandpa Rick! You good in there? Your flashing cube things said we were all fine, sooo…”

“Dad! What’s going on? Should I be worried? Is the President going to show up in a few minutes with a bunch of guys in hazmat suits, or whatever the interplanetary version of that is?”

“Rick! Come on! L-let us in! What’s wrong? If nothing’s wrong and this is a joke, it’s not funny, and you’re an asshole. But if something is wrong, it sounds bad, and like maybe you need help. So let us in!”

“Shit, shit, shit!” Rick muttered, pushing the cubes and the computer displaying the test results aside. He cleared his throat and said more loudly, “Alright, alright! It’s not locked, and since when the fuck do any of you knock?! You can come in, just maybe stay back. Don’t get too *COUGH!* close.”

The others all looked at each other hesitantly for a second, then Morty opened the door.

“Dad? Are you alright? We uhh, heard your alarms going off, and it sounded like the last one said you have some kind of infection. Is this something we should be concerned about? Those alarms sounded awfully…intense.” Beth said worriedly, taking a few tentative steps forward.

“Yeah, sorry about that. It’s a system I implemented a while back but never f-finished. It’s supposed to detect any type of viral or bacterial pathogen. From any planet, satellite, etc, in any reality. *Sniff!* And ranging in severity from ‘You may not even realize you have anything’ to ‘By the time you realize you have something, you’re already dead.’” Rick started to explain, keeping his back turned to the others. Unfortunately, at that worst possible point in the explanation, he started coughing badly again. The looks on everyone’s faces became more concerned. Jerry clung to his golf club tightly, now practically hugging it instead of getting ready to swing it.

“R-Rick?...” Morty said timidly, moving a little closer to his grandpa. Beth pulled him back by the collar of his pajama top.

“Sorry again. I know, the timing of that couldn’t have been any worse. Or more clichéd. What I was trying to say was, this system is supposed to automatically differentiate between what’s trivial and what’s serious. But it’s unfinished, and there’s clearly some wires to uncross. So what happened was a high-level response to a low-level *ACHOO!* threat.” Rick continued, his voice lower and more gravelly than usual.

“So what is it exactly? Because no offense Grandpa, but you sound like shit. And I’m guessing the reason you’re not looking at us is that you look worse than you sound.” Summer said. Spotting a box of tissues on a shelf, she tossed it to Rick. It bounced off his shoulder and landed next to him on the floor.

“Dammit, Summer! It’s too early for you to be this perceptive! Ugh. Also, thanks.” Rick grumbled, eagerly grabbing the box.

He blew his nose loudly, then, still not bothering to get up, turned to face the family and continued, “I know, I know. Between the scare the alarms gave us all, and the fact I am clearly not doing great at the moment, me telling you everything is fine is not likely to inspire a lot of *Cough!* confidence. But rest assured, we’re dealing with a nuisance, not a crisis.”

“Rick, you’re still kinda talking in circles and not actually answering any questions. You keep saying, ‘This isn’t serious.’ and “This is nothing to worry about.’ But what is ‘this’, exactly?” Morty questioned.

“*SIGH!* Fine. It’s, it’s… a virus that originates in the Gloppydrop system. It causes the individual suffering from it to experience symptoms of r-random illnesses, cycling through them like you’re on the universe’s worst game show. It’s had millennia to evolve and adapt more diseases into its fucked up little database, so there’s no telling what’s going to happen next.” Despite how calm Rick was about that explanation, everyone else’s expressions quickly turned to varying degrees of horror.

“I’m sorry, but how the hell is that considered a low-level threat?! You have some transforming alien virus that can incorporate any illness, both known and unknown to man! Sure, right now it seems to just be giving you a terrible cold. But what happens if it morphs into space AIDS, or bubonic plague, or some kind of…turning inside out disease?!” Jerry panicked, dropping his golf club.

“Now honey, calm down and let Rick finish explaining. Maybe this really isn’t as dire as it sounds.” Beth said gently, wrapping an arm around Jerry’s shoulders. She then turned back to Rick and sternly switched to, “Seriously, Dad, what the fuck?! I am very worried about you right now, but I’m also pissed because it’s sounding more and more like those alarms were, in fact, justified.”

“No, you don’t get it. This is a mimicking disease. You feel like you have whatever thing it imitates, but you don’t actually have that thing. So you can’t die from it, even if you have the shitty luck of landing on all the worst spaces of its Wheel of Misfortune. And it l-leaves no lasting effects once you’ve recovered. So that’s why, while it has the potential to be incredibly painful, it’s not actually dangerous. Does that make sense now? It better, because I can’t dumb it down more than that.” Rick explained. Jerry still looked confused and more concerned than the others, but everyone else was visibly less worried now.

“I…guess so. Can we do anything to help?” Beth asked.

“Not really, sweetie. *Cough!* *Cough!* There’s no cure, and symptom management changes fast since, you know, the symptoms this virus tricks you into thinking you have do. But it goes without saying I should have something for whatever it throws at me.” Rick answered.

“Ok, so if I’m following this and you’re not bullshitting us, we don’t have to worry about this thing actually killing us, but what does happen if one of us catches it from you, Rick?” Jerry asked.

“*SNIFF!* For fuck’s sake, Jerry, weren’t you paying any attention?! If you catch it, it’ll be the same for you as it is for me – you’ll be varying degrees of miserable for 3-10 days, then be perfectly fine. But it’s probably a moot point, anyway. Infection with Gloppydropian Mimicking Disease is rare in humans to begin with, and, umm… there’s never actually been a recorded case of human-to-human transmission. So before anyone asks again, no you’re not in danger, and yes, the alarm was completely unnecessary.” Rick explained, growing more irritated by the second. Morty and Summer exchanged a look. Something didn’t make sense.

“So, I guess this bug must have a pretty long incubation period, huh? I mean, Gloppydrop? When was the last time we were anywhere near that system?” Morty commented, walking over to Rick. Summer followed, Beth not stopping either of them this time.

“God dammit, Morty, do you not understand what “originates from’ means?! The stupid virus comes from Gloppydrop originally, but it’s spread across the universe. I could have picked it up practically anywhere.” Rick replied crossly.

“Yeah, but you haven’t exactly been off-planet much lately. It’s been at least a few weeks again, hasn’t it? And if this is so rare in humans, it’s probably not something you caught going to the corner bar with Dad and Gene.” Summer pointed out.

“Christ, what is with all these questions?! Yes, children, Mimicking Disease does happen to have an extended incubation period. I most likely contracted it months ago. That being *COUGH!* said, Earth’s not as boring a planet as it used to be these days. Which is cool and all, but one downside is shit like this making its way here. So, while it’s unlikely I got it locally, can’t rule that out, either. *Achoo!* Are we finally done talking about this?! We’ve established there’s no emergency, and everyone’s managed to annoy me more than my illness is. You’re all gonna go about your day anywhere but here and let me deal with this now, right?” Rick snapped. There were a few seconds of silence, followed by the rest of the family all yelling at the same time again.

They mostly drowned each other out, but then Summer’s voice cut through the noise, saying, “Your detection system must be more broken than you think, Grandpa. I mean, apparently, you’ve had this alien virus inside of you for a significant amount of time, and it didn’t clue you in until you were already hacking up a lung? You do see how that would be an issue if this were something serious, right?”

Rick glared at her, but didn’t say anything, prompting Summer to continue, “Also, it was hard to tell with the alarms, but I’m sure I heard it say something about the virus’s origin being Earth. Which is a weird thing to say about Gloppydropian Mimicking Disease, don’t you think?” She gave her grandfather a challenging look, daring him to argue with her. Everyone else was quiet, eyes locked on the two of them.

“What the hell, Summer? It’s stupid early, I’m sick, and do you think anyone’s more pissed off by, or aware of, just how broken the stupid detection system is?! Why are you being such a bitch to me?” Rick yelled. Or rather, tried to yell – his throat hurt and he was losing his voice a little.

“Both of you calm down. Dad, don’t call Summer a bitch. She’s right, and you need to fix that system, like, the second you’re feeling better. I can help if you want. Summer, being right doesn’t mean you can be a bitch to your grandfather, especially right now.” Beth scolded the two of them. Neither Rick nor Summer said anything, as they were now locked in a staring contest. Rick lost when he sneezed again.

“Ugh, I am so over this horseshit already!” he complained, grabbing a handful of tissues and muttering more profanity under his breath.

“Yeah, I bet. It’s a good thing you have this crazy transforming disease that should switch things up and give you a whole new set of symptoms… ooh, any minute now, according to this article I found.” Summer replied, tapping away at her phone and triumphantly showing Rick the screen.

“Are you seriously *Sniff!* fact-checking me now?! What is your deal today?”

“Yeah, Summer. Don’t you think maybe you’re being a little harsh? Rick’s not feeling well, and…” Morty tried to interject.

“Morty, shush. You can go back to kissing Grandpa’s ass after I prove my point.”

Rick, meanwhile, had pulled a small notebook out of his pocket, and was now furiously scribbling something in it.

When he finished, he threw the notebook, and his car keys, to/at Summer, saying, “Listen up, I just decided something. Even though the risk of any of you getting infected is low, we’re not gonna *Cough!* chance it. For your safety and my sanity, everyone’s getting the hell out of my garage now. Sum-Sum! Congratulations! Since you’re being so smart and helpful this morning, you get to leave first and go the farthest away. Here’s a list of shit I need you to get and places I need you to go.”

“What?! Grandpa Rick, you can’t be serious. You’re gonna send me into space, just because I called your bluff about…” Summer started to object. A large, semi-clear purple bubble engulfed her and hovered her outside to Rick’s car.

“Sorry, Summer, can’t *Cough!* *COUGH!* hear you. We’ll talk when you get back in a day or two! Car, autopilot to Space Walmart. The, the good one, just past Neptune. Do not, under any circumstances, go to the one on Venus, understand?” Rick instructed.

“If you’ve seen one Space Walmart, you’ve seen them all, but sure. Whatever you say, Rick.” the car agreed sarcastically, flying off with a furious Summer.

“Dad, I’m not trying to second guess you, but are you sure that was necessary?” Beth questioned.

“Beth, sweetie, you should, uhhh, go to work. You’re the breadwinner of the house – can’t risk you getting *SNIFF!* sick. So yeah. G-go to work.” was what she got in response.

“Dad, I don’t work for another 5 hours, and I’m in my pajamas, and…” Beth started to object. Her protests were cut off by a large bubble, like the one that had carried Summer off, transporting her out to her car.

“Not cool! You being sick does not make this acceptable behavior!” she yelled as the bubble deposited her in the car, then vanished. Beth looked at the house and thought about trying to go back in, but quickly decided against it.

“Why fight it? There’s extra scrubs at work, and it’s not like I particularly want to deal with all this.” she sighed, driving off.

Back in the garage, Rick was saying, “Dammit, Jerry. You still don’t have a job I can send you to to get you out of my hair, huh?”

“Really, Rick? That’s all you’ve got? You are off your game today if you expect that old chestnut to hurt me.” Jerry scoffed, picking up his golf club again.

“*COUGH!* I don’t have the energy to try and hurt you, Jerry. I just need you to be one less headache for me to deal with. Should’ve had Summer drop you off at the Jerryboree. It’s even on the way! Damn, I really can’t think straight right now.” Rick griped, rubbing his temples and coughing more. Morty and Jerry were both watching him closely.

“If it helps, I’m, umm, not allowed there at the moment anyway, Rick. For now, I’m only suspended and not banned, but there’s this investigation pending, and well…” a slightly embarrassed Jerry informed him.

“Really, Jerry? Was it at least worth it?”

“That’s the worst part! No, not at all! It was one quick kiss and a handshake! A limp handshake at that!” Jerry pouted.

“Eww! Dad, why? Why is the whole family like this?! Actually, no. I don’t wanna know!” Morty wailed, shaking his head and covering his ears.

Ignoring his son, Jerry continued, “And now I don’t know if that me said something because he has regrets, or blames me for how pathetic it was, or if it was some random other me who saw and complained because he was jealous, or judging us, or maybe just a tattletale… It keeps me up at night!”

Rick nodded and said, “Yeah, been there. Shit sucks. You have my sympathies, Jer. Hmmm. I’m out of ideas for what to do with you, so just go be stupid upstairs, okay? Or go spend the day with Gene, or… I don’t care. Just *Achoo!* go.”

Jerry studied his father-in-law sympathetically. Summer was right – Rick looked bad. His hair was messier than usual, his nose was running, and his eyes were bloodshot. Still sitting on the garage floor, he was starting to shiver, and seemed exhausted.

“Fine, I’m going. But not because you told me to. I have an idea to make you feel better, Rick. I just have a little research to do first.” he said smugly as he strode out of the garage, clearly proud of whatever idea he’d just come up with.

“Okay, so we’re gonna have to deal with whatever that’s about later, too. Cool.” Morty sighed, at the same time Rick said, “That’s great, Jerry. Can’t wait. I’m sure you’re gonna win a Nobel Prize or something.”

And then it was just the two of them left in the garage.

#rick and morty #fanfiction #fanfic #rick and morty fanfic #rick and morty fanfiction #rick sanchez #morty smith #summer smith #beth smith #jerry smith #my writing #my fanfic #also on ao3 #and will be on ff.net as soon as i can figure out how to add a damn chapter #sickfic #down with the rickness

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jacks-the-flower · 2 years

Text

darling i just can't get you out of my head, your scent lingers in my old jumper

~~~~~~

It was so elusive, so mind-boggling. It put her brain on the edge of an idea and her tongue ready to burst out with the answer.

Hang on, was that her old perfume?

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

It was a peculiar thing, something so familiar yet so unanticipated. She caught it at the edge of her own perception, sweetly reaching her senses with a dubious flair. It was something she knew well, something that she knew a little too well. What was it? It was right there for her to grasp, but the concept was elusive. Perhaps there was too much going on around her.

She stood before him, simultaneously at home and exposed. What would he think of her now? Did he remember her? Did he still believe in the end of that sentence? Why did he change? Was he alone? What was that smell?

Now she understood it, the floral scent of her past. Her past with him. But why was she discerning it now? Was it the reminder of everything, of what she’d had with him, what they had been? Unless…

She approached him slowly, artfully prowling towards him, making herself known yet advancing calmly and disarmingly. There was no need for her curiosity to scare him off.

She stopped a few feet away from him, drawn in by her own scent. It wasn’t her scent anymore, however, it was his. It mingled with his own various aromas; the wool coat, the leather polish on his hands and shoes, the grease from the TARDIS, what must be numerous hair gel products he’d used. His scent was quite unique, yes, but under all of that: her.

“Are you going to say anything?”

Her golden brown eyes flickered to his own green-tinged ones. She’d never thought that any other pairs of eyes would be as entrancing, or scents for that matter. Somehow this version was the most intoxicating, boyish but ancient and venerable, something new in ways that she hadn’t experienced from him. When she looked into his eyes, she saw an openness that hadn’t been there. He was somehow, simultaneously, more guarded than she’d ever seen him, and yet more open to her.

“Am I- is it… good different? Bad different?”

His eyes grew worried and lines started to appear in assent with his fears, she supposed it was now time to say something, “You’ve been using my soaps.”

He gave a light chuckle at that, bowing his head a little in confirmation, “Yes well, I had to, well I- I had to…” he stammered uncertainly, “keep you with me somehow.” He looked back up at her, “I hope you don’t mind, I’ve been, well…” he paused before blurting out, “I’ve been using your room.”

She raised her brows, he what?

“Well some nights, I’m in the hammock; lovely things hammocks, quite comfortable.”

Ah, a familiar habit. He did so love a good babble, in both of the bodies she knew. Though her first one seemed to prefer it from her while she was cross with someone. He’d had beautiful blue eyes then, though his new green ones were just as gorgeous. He smelt of leather polish in that face too.

She slowly pulled her hand up, sweeping along the hem of his coat on its way.

“I erm, I can move back out if you’d like,” she kept moving ever so slowly, brushing over his hearts, enjoying his impatient jitters, “who am I kidding of course you’d like me to move out of your very own, very personal room. That’s,” he gasped out as she pressed her hand against his cheek, drawing circles behind his ear, taking in the details of his new face, “that’s just common sense. In fact, it was wrong of me to take up residence in the first place, what was I even thinking? Stupid Doctor, never thinking about what you want.”

And with that, she was thrust back into uncomfortable memories; moments where they were so close, but separated by a wall of fear and uncertainty. Now isn’t that a funny comparison.

Her hand had stilled and she brought it down to caress his chin, “If I’m allowed back, I can’t do that again, Doctor.”

He stepped impossibly closer to her, knocking her hand down to his chest where she could feel his hammering double-heart rate, and reached up to cup both sides of her face with his hands, staring intensely into her eyes, “It was never, ever an if, Rose Tyler. It was always a matter of when.”

She peered into his eyes, searching for the deceit, the lie to placate her. She found nothing but determination and adoration. He looked amazed, presumably at her, his eyes drifting over her features; she’d almost call it reverent. Did he still have that much faith in her? After all of this time?

“How long has it been, Doctor?” she questioned softly, lips moving faster than her mind.

His eyes dimmed, skirting from her face, and he withdrew his hands from her cheeks. She missed them.

He retreated in on himself slightly, stepping back and slouching down, bringing his arms in close, wringing his hands. He wouldn't meet her eyes. She missed them too.

“It’s difficult to place exactly, but my guess is around three-hundred, three-hundred ‘n fifty, years.” It was a painful thing to imagine, but not a surprising one. He was older.

Then again so was she.

She couldn't help her regret in not finding him sooner. Centuries had passed and they had to move forward. It changed them. “I’m so sorry, Doctor; I’m so late,” she told him mournfully.

He smiled bitterly at that, still looking to the side, “Something tells me I’m late too,” he said, green eyes finally looking at hers once again. She understood immediately; there was always something of the wolf about her. Though wolves don’t tend to live as long.

He faced her fully again, gazing at her with a great jumble of emotions, “I suppose we’re a bit more evenly matched now, not that we weren’t before but…” At that, his eyes grew more pained and guilt-ridden, conveying what she thought was an apology. Those eyes were always quite expressive weren’t they.

She approached him once more, this time she snaked both of her hands around his neck, his own moving to rest on her hips. She fixed her eyes directly on to his, trying to convey as much love and determination as she could, “You’ve got my forever, Doctor, do I have yours?”

He drew her in closer, resting their foreheads together, “I think you’ve always had my forever, Rose,” he took a deep breath in, “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She took her own breath in, cataloging his new scent of antiquities and floral soap. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, before confessing, “I love you.”

She knew what would happen next, he never gets to finish his sentence. She was fine with that, content even, only knowing that he felt so much for her. It didn’t have to be said.

“I love you too, Rose Tyler.”

She snapped her eyes open, flitting over his face – nose, hair, ears, cheeks, eyebrows - before settling on his eyes; his ever expressive, blue-then-brown-now-green eyes. He was fixed on to her, transfixed on her face, her own eyes. Amazed, relieved, and genuine all at once. It was not the platitude that she might have expected, it was a truth in the way he looked at her, held her in his arms, caressed her features. In the way that he used her old soaps and slept in her room, three-hundred something years after she was gone.

“Yeah?” She felt a weight lift from her chest, something she’d never known about. She felt herself brighten and she smiled at him, giddy with the new revelation. She always knew he loved her, but now she believed it.

“Yeah,” He followed suit, lips growing wider and wider, toothier and toothier. It was a marvelous sight for a face so marred by regret and guilt to be so openly happy, so openly in love. She found that it was intoxicating. She found him intoxicating.

Every bit of him - clothes, cadence, scent, hair, freckles - was fascinating and new, but intensely familiar in ways she wasn’t sure he'd readily admit. She found herself loving him all over again.

She always fell right back in love, even when he changed faces and preferences. She just grew to cherish each and every new characteristic and quirk. Like the eyes that were staring at her. Like the lips curved into a small, fond smile.

She slowly raked her eyes up from his lips, leisurely gliding over his features. His eyes were heavy-lidded, no doubt from watching her sultry show. She saw the same feelings that she had reflected within herself; attraction, fondness, intoxication, and love.

He leaned his head down and she tilted hers up, moving in a familiarity they shared in their old lives. When their lips met, she realized that this was in fact so wonderfully new. They were not so young back then to not have shared a kiss between them, but this one was different. Different in the way they held a tenderness between them instead of stunted longing. Different in the way they embraced each other with care and affection. Different in the way they could taste the devotion and determination they’d been too fearful to commit to.

His tongue flicked out along her bottom lip and she opened up to him fully, one hand threading through his hair. His left hand slowly traveled up from her hip to the small of her back, nails grazing her skin. The physical and mental effect it had on her caused her to gently pull back for air; the bridges of their noses resting together, their hands in wandered places.

She had taken a few moments of stillness before realizing how mentally connected they had become. A soft presence was intermingled with her mind, sharing in her love and admiration as they became closer than they previously dared.

She opened her eyes and found him, his own eyes already wide and fixed on hers. She smiled softly and sent a warm wave of emotions to him, focussing on reassurance and determination as well as tenderness and adoration.

He breathed out a short puff, breaking out into another disbelieving smile. He brought the hand from her hip up to her cheek and kissed her again, this time with excitement and enthusiasm. His tongue dipped into her mouth again, energetically brushing over the back of her teeth and soft palate. A small laugh bubbled up from her chest and he pulled back, sharing in her euphoria.

He settled back down, loosening his hold to a comfortable embrace. “Am I dreaming?” he breathed out.

She hummed at him, “That depends, what would your dream say?”

“No.” he said, shaking his head slightly.

She smirked thoughtfully, tilting her head to mock-think, “Then yes,” she decided, giving him a tongue-touched smile that she knew made his mind misfire. And misfire it did, if the stumbling rush of consciousness brushing against her was anything to go by.

He rocked forward excitedly, before pausing, eyes alight with mirth, “Well hang on now, is that a yes to me dreaming or a yes in contrast to what my dream would say?”

She just smiled wider, “Can I stick around and find out?”

“Darling, you,” he kissed both of her cheeks, before looking right at her, genuinely, “can move in with me.”

She felt giddy at that, sharing it across their connection, but outwardly maintaining her playful demeanor, “Weeeell,” she drawled out, “your home is pretty big, infinite, you could say.”

He chuckled, holding her tight, “That she is.”

He slowed for a moment, taking a deep breath, before looking at her in earnest, “Be there when I wake up?” he asked hopefully.

She reached up a hand to brush his hair, giving him a fond smile and a caress of conviction and certainty.

“Forever.”

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