#hanna would ask him if she could be a snake too for an afternoon and it would make his chest ache but he'd do it bc hes mr. Acts of Service | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atretimus · 10 months

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Loneliness In Action

Strong language warning

“C’mon, c’mon,” he muttered as an engine hum faded out over the erratic click-clack of someone jamming controls in that ritualistic helpless manner. Red flickered through the cockpit, illuminating the hunched frantic figure at the controls. “….Stop,” he puffed, pushing his glasses up, which also conveniently held his mop of wavy hair at bay, and rubbed his eyes with his palms. With a practiced motion, he reached into a kitbag slung across the chest of his hardsuit, pulling out a cigarette and lighter. *click-pop* and a small cloud of smoke began to be sucked into a fan, before the fan shuddered into stillness and the light cut out. “Well, piss.” The ember of the cigarette glowed brighter briefly.

An aggressive ping-rattle spattered off Loneliness In Action, “Still interested? Go, leave! Steal shit. Did I really piss you off so bad?” the pilot huffed. Pirates, a fickle bunch, not to mention vicious. He must’ve killed one. “Heh, I did put a lotta vinegar on that last one.” He smirked, “It wasn’t personal, just a job. Unless,… do I know you? Do you know me? Sal Goodstead…? Probably not.” He scratched at his chin and took a drag. It was getting smoky in there. Sal ran his hand through his sweaty hair. His hair, he remembered one hazy afternoon playing outside with his sisters, Hanna and Mari. They were at the beach, his sisters’ hair glistened and bounced, curly and lively. Their infectious bubbling laughs as they ran across the too hot sand in the thick salty breeze. His hair was never like theirs, wavy and unruly. His mother once told him that it was the same with their father. Lanky, wiry, and tough she said he was. Eyes tearing at the thought back to the beach day, Sal jumped a little at another spray of bullets. Stubbing out the cigarette as the red light flipped back on, indicating a system reboot, Sal pulled back on engine power before twisting the ignition. His hope being that the start up would be subtle enough that the goons wouldn’t notice. He rolled the lighter around in his hand.

Sal knew this was probably just buying a little time. Loneliness could hide in plain sight, once it hit full power, but that wouldn’t happen quick enough to avoid being gutted by some illustrious and crude can opener that had been flash welded to a bespoke engine frame. “Not like this, I’m a professional. I use more elaborate machines to rub one out than you can afford to fight with.” Sal hissed as he tempered his anger into an edge. Loneliness In Action buzzed as the cockpit sensors, screens, and lights came on. She was still at about 40%. Sal brought up the sub-menu of the Vulture DMR, tapped the ammo case, and had the feeder put a Jager round in the chamber. 50%, systems were coming online quickly.

“Ey, Gus, can I crack it open now? Fucker slagged Crux with that rail shot. I wanna see ‘im pop.” Whistled some snarky shithead.

“Ease, Melvin. This one has top shelving gear. Check the rig, fully customized Death’s Head. We ask nicely before dropping worms on him. You don’t want to explain a fuck up like that, Pret.” Gus spoke.

60%, Comms online.

“Hey. Yeah you, vagrants.” Sal smirked, “I think you fried all the good stuff, why not fuck off? I was paid to protect the depot, I failed. Go pillage the depot.”

65%, Visuals online. A Chi Tun Gunslinger stood over him, pared down and purpose-built bristling with sensors to target and suppress, painted a metallic red and a semi-gloss yellow. Sal found it crude and grating against his sensibility. Get seen first, get shot first.

“Listen little shit snake, you are lucky you ain’t paste.” Melvin, Sal guessed, spat. He had a hard time with the S sound, but seemed to relish saying them. “Plucky cuckle fuck, say sumthin’ else, I’ll twist your head off and cram unmentionable objects down your neck-hole.”

80%, Targeting online. Cuckle? I definitely at least maimed this Crux. Sal pondered while tagging the engine signature of Melvin’s Gunslinger.

“What do you say? Why don’t you get on out of your beautiful machine there, and let us talk face to face. We don’t want to come in there as much as you don’t want us to.” Again came the even tone of the yet disembodied Gus.

90%, full power cycle approaching complete. A small signature was showing up on sensors off to the right of Loneliness. Gus was the smart one, out of visual contact and running very low on power output. It was a blip. Fuck, this guy probably knew what Sal was doing. Calculated, either I trigger the trap or I see this and surrender. Oh Gus, you tricky slut. Sal always loved this kind of game. This plus Gus’ honeyed voice, an absolute wave of arousal like thick heat rolled over him.

95%, Sal wiped sweat off his brow. Hell, his mouth was watering. “Gus, was it?” Sal’s grin hurt, “Call me Sal Goodstead.”

100%, “Mr. Goodstead, well met. Tremont August, at your service. I would like to ask if all mercs have such fine quality rigs?”

“Sal, please. Tremont, I would assume only those as good as myself. Shit, you’ve maybe heard of my deeds by another name, Beggar.”

“I’ll be, Melvin, it’s the damned Beggar himself.” Gus chuckled.

“So the fuck what? He bleeds, don’t he? Gus, quit sniffin’ each other’s panties! I’m going to twist his head off. You can blow him afterwards!” Melvin fumed.

“Melvin, you know he is at full capacity again, right? He could probably turn you into soup the second you jump on him.”

“What do you mean, Gus?! We let him get back up? This is fucked. You fucked us!”

“Now, Melvin, I’d hardly say that. You got that itchy trigger finger and Tremont knows exactly what he is doing. I’d say we all have a pretty high chance of being fucked at this junction.” Sal was so very flustered, but kept his voice calm. Heavy breathing could be heard over the line, Melvin.

Despite the vast amount of tension, the forested hillock this all took place on was quiet. In the midst of summer greenery and heat, Sal had been sent on guard duty of a remote supply depot. Not really his preference because he usually ended up as a scout in these situations, but this time he had to become the evasive sniper he was. Wasn’t quick enough this time. Two Gunslingers and a Dreamer had come around the ridge, all shiny red. They pinned him down after he got off a couple shots with the railgun. The rest was just disorienting.

Melvin screamed over the line and charged, machine gun spitting. Sal knew it was coming, estimated off Melvin’s ragged breaths. He was already sighted down the barrel. The Vulture cracked. The Gunslinger chassis snapped and tumbled hard to the side, and hissed. Melvin’s comms cut out. Loneliness was already scuttling down the hill when Sal felt two of the six legs seize up. Sal pivoted to see the Dreamer, Tremont August, shiny red and matte black, an arcing boarding leash in his left hand. Tremont ran up the hind leg of the Loneliness, pushed off and yanked down hard. Sal continued the pivot as the legs came out from under him. He brought to bear his thermal pistol. Hiss-crack and the Dreamer’s arm smoldered uselessly. “Hope I see you again, Gus. You’re cute.” Sal grinned and punched the throttle. There Tremont August stood in a smoking Dreamer, stunned.

“Cute?”

#writing #ttrpg #homebrew #lancer rpg #greed of the fallen star

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j-esbian · 6 years

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night terrors and sweet dreams - chp. 3

chp. 2

on ao3

His heart was racing.

Nino was hanging out with Adrien in his room, and they had decided to dust off his old Dance Dance Revolution machine. They were in hot competition with each other, but when they started the third round, Nino hit his groove.

His feet flew, tapping with a mind of their own and hitting each move perfectly. The game’s announcer cheered him on.

“Good! Nice! Great!”

Nino’s concentration didn’t falter, even as the song’s tempo picked up. He slid and jumped with ease, still matching the song’s pace.

It kept speeding up, until Nino could no longer decipher the words; just a tinny, frenetic ringing, but still his legs moved, flailing wildly. It was as if they, too, were plugged into the game, simply going and going and going.

He tried to stop.

“Excellent! Wow! Perfect!” the announcer exclaimed.

He couldn’t stand still. His legs were out of his control, now, and they felt more like a blur of motion than anything else. Nino lunged forward and gripped tightly onto the rail, trying to slow himself down, but it was no use.

“Great job! Wow!”

“Adrien!” he called out, turning to his friend for assistance. But he wasn’t there anymore, and Nino was dancing alone.

It didn’t even feel like it could be called dancing anymore. The screen kept telling him he was hitting all the steps, but he just felt something whirling around beneath him, like a leg tornado.

He wished he could lose his balance and fall over and stop this, instead of feeling like a spinning top, being jostled around on the whims of… whatever was controlling his bottom half.

Then, suddenly, he careened over the game’s safety rail, and realized it was actually the guardrail of a viewing platform. He fell off the balcony and landed squarely in a chair.

Mme. Mendeleiev leaned across the desk, towering over him and twisting the dial to the Bunsen burner in front of him. The flame rose higher, licking and catching at the brim of his hat, but when he tried to cry out in alarm, no sound came from his mouth.

As he looked at his teacher in horror, she returned his gaze with her usual flat stare. The fire simmered along the edge of his cap. He jolted up and tried to scramble away.

At first, it didn’t spread, and it wasn’t hot, but he feared it all the same, and when he reached up to pat the fire out, it stuck to his fingers like syrup. He tried to yell, but Mme. Mendeleiev reached over and wrapped her fingers around his wrist and his voice failed him once again.

“ What are you doing? ” he tried to say. Her pointed fingernails pierced into his arm, and the more he tried to speak, the larger the flames grew, crawling up his arms and down his ears. It didn’t burn; wherever the fire touched, he felt the same sharp pain from his teacher’s grip.

Nino couldn’t keep from crying out, and the pain continued to spread. Flames spilled through his open mouth and down his throat, and he felt like he was swallowing needles.

Then Mme. Mendeleiev staggered back, as if hit, and through the haze of smoke and pain, Nino saw two figures rush in from the hallway. Her grip loosened, and he broke away, his vision clearing.

Adrien and Chat Noir stood in the doorway, framed dramatically by the hallway behind them, which was flooded with light. Adrien drew his fencing foil, and Chat Noir his baton, and the two of them rushed to Nino’s side. With a few swift strikes from their weapons that Nino barely caught, Mme. Mendeleiev was sent flying through the door, into the blinding white light beyond.

Adrien removed Nino’s cap, extinguishing it with his bare hands. Chat smoothed Nino’s hair back from his forehead, blowing out the rest of the flames as easily as a birthday candle.

“Are you okay?” Chat asked, bringing his hands back around to cradle his cheeks.

Nino’s throat still ached, and just he nodded, leaning into Chat’s hands and closing his eyes. Adrien placed his hat gently back on his head, and stayed there for a lingering moment, wrapping his arms loosely around Nino’s shoulders and leaning his head against the side of Nino’s.

Nino felt lips brush his forehead, but when he opened his eyes, both boys stood where they had been and were staring at him in gentle concern. Then, Chat looped his arm around Nino’s waist, and Adrien grabbed his other hand and led them through the back door of the chemistry classroom.

They entered into the locker room, which was cool and dim and deserted, and sat down. Chat straddled the bench, and Nino leaned against him. Adrien sat facing them, and took Nino’s hands, rubbing gently at the burnmarks. He kissed Nino’s palms, and the burns rubbed off as easily as smoke stains.

Chat rubbed Nino’s sides and rested his head on his shoulder. His hair tickled Nino’s ear, but he endured it, feeling the rumbling purr bubbling in Chat’s chest and resting comfortably against it. He vaguely heard someone knocking on a distant door; quietly, at first, but then it grew louder and more insistent.

His mother slammed open his bedroom door. “Nino! You’re still asleep?”

He groaned and stretched, levering himself up onto his elbows. “What time is it?” he rasped.

“Far past the time you should have gotten up,” she clucked. “Come on, up, up, up!” She flicked the lights on and off a few times, before disappearing back out the door.

Nino watched Hanna slip out the open door, and spat out a few stray cat hairs that had managed to work their way into his mouth. Sweat coated his back and he threw the covers off, staggering upright. He rifled around for the first clean clothes he could find and pulled them on, before fumbling for his phone to check the time. It was dead.

“Shit,” he said, just as his father walked past, straightening his tie.

“Language!”

Nino rolled his eyes and got his hat from the back of his door. “Sorry,” he muttered. He grabbed his bookbag and hurried off down the hallway.

He snagged a breakfast bar from the kitchen as he passed through, and headed for his shoes by the door.

“Nino!” his mother called. “Aren't you forgetting something?”

He squinted at her, then patted his face. “Right. Glasses.”

He doubled back to get them, and saw his phone charger still plugged in. It snaked along the wall and disappeared behind his bed. He briefly considered reaching back to try to get it, but his mother called again, more insistently, and he thought better of it; it would only make him late. He could just borrow from someone at school.

His heart was racing.

Adrien was playing basketball, one-on-one against Kim. His eyes were glued to the ground, even as his opponent loomed above him, and Adrien danced away, bobbing and weaving and dribbling.

Kim was there at every turn, easily keeping up with Adrien’s footwork. He snatched the ball away. Adrien tried to look up and snarl at him, but found himself physically unable to focus on his face.

His gaze skirted around it, unable to train his eyes any higher than the logo on Kim’s sweatshirt, which seemed to grow until his took over his entire vision, blinding him momentarily. And then he blinked, and Kim was on the other side of the court, dunking the ball victoriously.

He tried to call foul, but Kim’s voice rose over his own, taunting him. “Aw, what’s wrong, pretty boy? It’s not fair? Why don’t you run and tell your dad? I’m sure he can fix everything for you.”

Adrien tried to protest that no, it wasn’t like that, but there are rules to the game, and you can’t just cheat , but suddenly Chloé was there, too, backing him up and threatening to call her own father, no matter how much he tried to tell her I appreciate it, Chlo, but you’re really not helping, I can handle this on my own, it’s not that big of a deal, just leave it--

Amidst the squabbling, Adrien noticed a gruesome cackling, growing from a murmur until it roared in his ears. Though he’d never heard the man’s voice, he recognized it immediately.

Hawk Moth.

Kim and Chloé continued to bicker, heedless of the danger. Adrien wondered if they could even hear it, or if the laughter was all in his head. Then he saw it coming for him: a pitch black butterfly, dark and mottled like an oilslick, headed straight for him. He shut his eyes tight, hoping that by ignoring it, it might pass him by.

Something collided with him, and he staggered back, his eyes snapping open in alarm. Ladybug had barrelled into him, pushing him out of the akuma’s way, and he watched in horror as it disappeared between her shoulder blades.

She screamed, but it cut off abruptly; a purple cloud descended over her face, just for a brief moment, and her eyes flashed bright orange.

She grinned wickedly at him. “Hello, Adrien.”

He tried to back up, to get away and run off and find a place to transform, but his feet were frozen to the ground, and when he looked down at his hands, the ring wasn’t there. Panicked, he looked towards Ladybug, wondering if she had managed to slip it off of him, but her hands were empty.

She tapped his nose a few times to bring his attention back up to her face. “Now, I know you and Chat Noir are close,” she said brightly. “Can you tell me where I might find him?”

She looked completely normal, still, except for her eyes. He found himself hypnotized, unable to look away from her irises, which shifted in color from bright greens and yellows and oranges like poison.

“A-dri-en,” she sang. “I asked you a question.”

His hands shook, and he clasped them together behind his back, but before he could say anything, his feet lifted off the ground, and someone held him in a strong grip, and he was lifted away.

His feet touched back down, and they were on a rooftop somewhere. Though it had been early afternoon in the courtyard at school, it was twilight now, and as he crouched behind a chimney with his savior, he had to squint through the dim light to make out who it was.

Adrien heard the familiar click of his baton collapsing, and a pair of warm brown eyes looked him over in concern. The other boy spoke to him, but it sounded garbled, like they were underwater.

“Are you okay?” he repeated.

Adrien nodded. Chat Noir didn’t seem convinced, and put his hand against Adrien’s forehead, like he was checking for a fever. Suddenly, Adrien realized who he was.

“Nino?”

Chat smirked. “Here to save your ass again,” he remarked. He poked his head around the side of the chimney and turned back to Adrien. “Coast’s clear.”

Adrien's hands were around his waist before he could say anything more. He pushed him back against the wall, and kissed him hard. Chat's mouth curled underneath his lips, and then it slid away.

Adrien felt the gentle pricking of claws through his shirt as Chat held him closer and pressed his open mouth against his neck. Adrien leaned forward, pressing his knee against the wall between Chat's legs. He reached up and ran his hand through Chat's short, dark hair, and ran his fingers across the nape of his neck.

Chat pulled his head back and looked at Adrien, panting slightly, and Adrien surged forward, bringing their lips together again and again--

The shrill beeping of Adrien's alarm startled him to his senses. He was spread-eagle in bed, and his mouth was dry and dusty. Plagg stirred irritably, rolling over and groaning.

Adrien smacked his mouth a few times and silenced his alarm. He realized he was shaking, even as he went through his morning routine and gradually woke up.

He was still jittery as he settled into school, and it was a relief that Nino was nowhere to be found. He skidded into his seat mere seconds before the bell rang, giving them no time to talk.

But Mme. Bustier was having computer trouble, and while Myléne rushed to the front to help her, Nino leaned over and muttered, “Hey, dude, can I borrow your phone charger?”

“Hmm?” Adrien muttered. “Oh, yeah.” His hand shook slightly as he held it out to Nino.

“You okay?” Nino asked. He ducked underneath the desk to plug the cord in, and looked up at Adrien in wide-eyed concern.

Adrien swallowed hard. “Yeah, I just, uh, I think my blood sugar’s low or something? Probably?”

Nino dove into his bag, saying, “Well, you’re in luck. I overslept, so I’ve got a granola bar, if you want it.” He offered it to Adrien, who pushed it back at him.

“No, Nino, you need to eat. I’m fine.”

Nino shrugged and unwrapped it, taking a bite. “Suit yourself. Hey, do you have any water? I feel like I deepthroated a cactus.” Adrien stared at him in mild horror, but he just raised his eyebrows and took another bite.

Adrien shook his hands out and reached down for the bottle of water in his bag, and steadily held it out to his best friend.

It was just a dream, after all.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #adrino #adrinino #ninoir #chickenscratch #wow look at this goddamn irregular update schedule #im back so soon hopefuly.........i can keep at this lol esp with a break coming up next week

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