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cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal · 4 months

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Alright, so as I clear out my writing folder for fics that just aren't going to get finished for one reason or another, I thought I'd do something I've never done before and post them.

So, this is The Monsters We Made, which was written fresh off my first run with Mateo back in February of 2023. He was pretty different back then. His character was still being workshopped and he had just gotten the selfstuck Sedated By Mortum ending. I felt a lot about that ending and so, like I always do, I went off writing about it.

This is an unfinished fic and, as such, has a jarring "ending" and is not edited. It is very much a rough draft and you'll notice that it has information based on the books rather than what's been revealing in the Patreon documents, such as Mortum being Haitian rather than simply speaking French (they'd likely speak Haitian Creole, though they might be fluent in French as well, depending on their background). This, along with Mateo's characterization and ending changing and his puppet being altered, means that I will likely never finish this piece. So, it can go here. Hope you enjoy!

Mortum had been expecting a lot of things when he decided to sedate Mateo de la Cruz. He had been expecting Mateo to put up more of a fight. He had been expecting to feel some level of vindication at seeing him fall. What he had not been prepared for in the slightest was exactly how Mateo responded to the sedation.

Fingers gripping his, not with intent but as if looking for stability. The expression of sheer terror that had flashed across his had felt like a bucket of ice water thrown at Mortum. One hand on his as he pulled out the syringe, one on his lapel, clinging for dear life. A flash of betrayal in his brown eyes. "Cariño…." He had winced at the endearment. Martín had called him that. It was supposed to be easy. It wasn't supposed to hurt so much.

He stares down at Mateo, studying his face for some sort of sign, some tangible proof that he did the right thing and that they are, in fact, enemies. Merde, he looks too much like Martín. He isn't as delicate-featured. There is no regal posturing the way Martín has. Scars mark Mateo's face where Martin's is bare and smooth. But they have the same nose, same warm eyes, same curve to their lips. Even their hair is styled in the same shoulder-length locs with gold cuffs.

Martín is sleeping, sprawled under the bedsheets with a soft smile on his face, despite his legs being in casts. Mortum would normally be sleeping beside him. If he's honest with himself, he wants nothing more than to crawl into bed next to Martín and hold him in his arms for a week straight. But there's something wrong with Martín. He can feel it.

He doesn't carry himself with the same certainty. When Mortum kisses him, he feels Martín holding back. His smiles don't quite meet his eyes anymore. He speaks with a slightly different cadence. It's like watching his boyfriend through a funhouse mirror. Any passing mention of it is met with a laugh and a wave of his hand. He has a different excuse each time.

So Mortum finds himself back here on nights when sleep evades him, in what is now Mateo's personal infirmary. He's been spending too much time here these days. Ever so gently, he lifts the hem of Mateo's shirt up. Just as he'd said at La Cantina weeks ago, his body is marked with re-gene tattoos. They are a slick and sickly orange like the skin of a poison frog. A warning sign to stay away.

He wishes he could heed them. He wishes he could leave Mateo out in some back street to rot. But he looks too much like Martín. And Martín feels less and less like himself with each passing day.

Was Mortum wrong? He wonders, not for the first time, if Mateo was telling the truth. That the nights of microwaved pizza and expensive scotch and wanting and being wanted in return were never a mask or a front, but always just Mateo. Perhaps the mask of Martín was more liberating than his own.

Other than this particular, I have never lied to you and I never will. Mortum winces as the words play over in his head. They’d sounded desperate, but Mortum had only been able to feel their bitter taste.

It all made more sense in the ambulance, when Martín had woken up. There was real fear in his eyes. Fear of Mateo. Or so he had said. Had he been played that night? Manipulated by whatever was now riding in Martín's skin? It is starting to feel more and more likely.

That's why tonight, Mortum skipped Mateo's scheduled sedation.

He's already taken numbers. The headache and dry mouth have been building for the last hour, but it's worth the precautions. He doesn't want to take any chances with a telepath.

Mateo is beginning to stir. He opens his eyes with a slow sort of bleariness. He blinks once, twice, and then Mortum sees the telltale sign of a stomach turning. He just barely gets the trash can over in time for Mateo to almost pitch himself over the side of the bed and vomit. As he retches, his back shuddering from trying to suck in breaths, Mortum can't stop himself from rubbing small circles between Mateo's shoulder blades.

Mateo pushes himself back up with shaking hands, his dark eyes narrowing on Mortum's face. Mortum gently holds his dreads back from his face. He’s surprised when Mateo doesn’t bat his hand away. "You drugged me." There is no bite to Mateo's words. Just a blank statement of a fact.

"I did, mon chéri." There's no point in denying it. "It seemed like the best course of action at the time."

Mateo's eyes scan over the surroundings. Always perceptive, despite the grogginess. It was like this talking to Martín about his projects, too. Martín was not particularly knowledgeable in technological fields, but he always hung onto every word Mortum said. Always asking questions, always learning, always paying keen attention.

"This isn't the Farm or a hospital." There's a familiar sort of distance in his voice when he speaks. It's gone when he continues. "Where are we?"

"One of my labs.” Mortum shrugs, holding his arms against his chest. He tries to swallow down the guilt. “I had nowhere else to take you."

"Why didn't you kill me?"

The question catches Mortum off guard. He takes a step back. An old habit, as if he's trying to get a wider view of Mateo's intentions, to see the bigger picture.

As if reading his mind despite the numbers, Mateo shrugs his shoulders in a noncommittal sort of way. "It's what I would have done in your shoes. Especially after Martín."

Mortum's blood runs cold. He clenches his fists, counts to ten, and lets them relax again. "How do you know about Martín?"

"I caught a sense of him, right before you opened the door," he says, his voice carefully modulated. His expression is guarded, so unlike how open he’d been as Martín."He didn't feel like you. Or much like anything I'd felt before."

At least Mortum isn't alone in the sense of alienation he gets from Martín these days. Even with the tension of their situation, he feels himself sinking back into the familiar pace of their conversation. It’s a balm as compared to the past few days. He isn't allowed that peace of mind for long.

"You never answered my question."

He really is quite like Martín, hyper-focused and direct almost to a fault. Mortum allows himself a small grimace. In his attempts to get his thoughts on the matter in order, Mateo presses on.

"You seem to know what I am and how dangerous I can be, villainous career aside." Mortum wishes just once, Martín - Mateo, he mentally chastises himself - would be less matter-of-fact about the whole ordeal. "And I know I hurt you. I've hurt you in ways I never intended. I don't understand why I'm still here; why I'm talking to you now."

He says it so earnestly. Not an ounce of cruelty there, despite how much it hurts Mortum. Should he be honest? God knows, Mateo and Martín both were. On the verge of brutality sometimes. Perhaps he owes Mateo that much.

"I entertained the idea," Mortum admits. He turns his eyes away from Mateo, looking down at his hands instead. He's not restrained - a perhaps foolish choice on Mortum's part, but he couldn't bring himself to do it - but he also hasn't moved. He seems content to let Mortum speak in peace. "You are right that it would have been a wiser decision, but I couldn't."

"Is it because I look like him? Martín?"

Mortum flinches. "Why should you have this power over me?" he mutters in French.

"Because you hold the same power over me."

Mortum's eyes snap up to Mateo's face. The French is a surprise. He hadn't known Mateo was multilingual. More tricks up his sleeves. But he looks at Mortum with a tenderness that makes his chest ache all the way down to the marrow of his bones.

Mateo reaches out, then stops, and asks in English, "May I touch you, mi amor?"

He should say no. He should keep that tentative space between them. Mateo is as dangerous as open flame and will burn him if he gets too close. He's already burned once. But Mateo worries at his lip the same way Martín always did and Mortum finds himself too weak to not take Mateo's hand.

"I won't apologize again." Mateo kisses Mortum's knuckles ever so gently. "There is no amount of apologizing that will fix this. But I will thank you for sparing my life."

Mortum swears again, wishing desperately that he had better self control. It's never been a problem before. He clings to Mateo's hands like they're the only shelter from the storm in his mind. Mateo gently pulls one hand free. He reaches up, brushing the back of his fingers against Mortum's cheek. He thumbs away a tear that Mortum hadn't noticed.

Giving up the last of his reserves, Mortum turns his head into the touch, pressing a kiss against Mateo's palm. His hands are rougher than Martín's, calloused and scarred and the nails chewed brutally short. But they still touch him the same way. Something bruised and angry and soft claws its way into Mortum's throat, but he keeps it locked behind his teeth.

#cigs writes #cigs' trash bin #fic: mateo #dr mortum #fhr fanfic #Mortumstep

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sidesteppin · 4 months

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catch me editing/rewriting the mortumstep confession scene ✌️

#don't look at me. i'm engaging with the text #i love mortumstep i just have so much beef with the writing in that scene #which does not help when it comes to how fucked that situation is #anyway i shan't say more

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autistic-sidestep · 2 months

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oh yea sura's gonna be a (queerplatonic) mortumstep now

#mortum is so sosososo important to sura and Hopefully she will forgive sura puppeting juno #i feel like chen and mortum get them the most. in different ways #but sura can be a little more open with the doctor cos she doesnt have the hangups abt the villainy thing. or its gender #ramblings #oc: suranga fernando

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glitchy-npc · 3 months

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9 people you'd like to get to know better

was tagged by @boundtoanandroid 💚

3 ships: Still obsessed with Chargestep and Mortumstep but also the telepathree aka Isa/Roach/Tegan. They tickle my brain and give me wholesome and/or horny headcanons to play about with since Tegan's current game state leaves both his ROs mad at him and its likely to be a long spell before any romantic content/resolution.

First ship: Pretty sure it was Rei/Makoto from Sailor Moon. They were my favorites and I thought they should kiss about it.

Last song: In My Sleep - Inhaler

Last film: I honestly don't remember, I just can't watch movies.

Currently reading: I just bought the first Murderbot book and The Final Girl Support Group, but haven't really cracked either 😔

Currently craving: Pizza sounds so good rn

I've done this tag game a few times and can never remember who I've tagged before so uuhhh.... @crowshuh @honeyglas @alouvrr @mihqorio @capricule @alaraxia aaand anyone else who'd like to. No pressure to do it for anyone tagged either. ✌

#tag game

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sidesteppostinghours · 4 months

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hello! pulp here, this is my fhr sideblog. i draw and occasionally write, but most importantly, i go on analysis rants that would make tumblr consider a word count limit. have fun scrolling through insanity 👍

List of my main tags under the cut:

General Tags:

FHR - (Almost) All things FHR Art - Others art that I like Writing - Others writing that I like

Character Tags (+associated ships) :

Sidestep Ortega - ChargeStep Chen - SteelStep Argent - ArgentStep Herald - FlyStep Dr Mortum - MortumStep

Main Sidestep Tags (+associated canon ships):

Caine Lynzal - The Retiree Comittee (Ortega/Caine/Chen) Cyrus Becker - Fire on a Summer's Day (Cyrus/Daniel) Cecilia Rider - Run Rabbit (Cecilia/Argent) Cynthia Garcia - Past Grievances (Cynthia/Ortega)

My Stuff:

Pulp speaks - General talking tag and rants Pulp draws - My art Pulp writes - My writing

#pulp speaks #i did it yall #it only took me a month too #bye bye to my last pinned post this is what yall are getting now

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licuadora-nasir · 6 months

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Sad girls drink strawberry milkshakes

Pairing: Mortumstep

Warnings: None

Summary: Sometimes what a girl needs is to drink a strawberry milkshake at 2:00 a.m. while she listens to Lana del Rey after she confessed to catfishing her boyfriend with a hijacked comatose body from a hospital.

Notes: Work inspired by the Sidestep Question of the Day in the Fallen Hero Patreon server proposed by Jazz: Your step is at a 24/7 open diner at 2:38 in the morning (think something like Dennys) and the only customer. THANK YOU. It was life-changing for Celia.

Also, thanks @KanraChrome for proofreading this on such short notice cause I'm an inpatient little shit that got inspired and wrote this on a whim.

Read it in AO3

Lana del Rey knew what she was doing when she wrote Ultraviolence and whoever invented strawberry milkshakes at Denny’s knew what they were doing too. The one who probably doesn’t know what she’ll be doing is the tacky waiter if she stares at you for five more seconds.

What’s her deal? Has she never seen in her shitty workplace a 6’2 foot tall Middle Eastern woman with a big, facial scar drink a milkshake alone at 2:38 in the morning? She should use a proper foundation that matches her skin tone and then maybe have the audacity to look at you—ugly hag.

You’ve been here a couple of minutes already, staring at the strawberry milkshake, mostly untouched because it looks too pretty to be finished. Perhaps if you were as beautiful as this strawberry milkshake you would be with Mortum right now, in his lab, as if nothing had changed between you. Maybe he wouldn’t have asked you for a week in order to think about it. Would have called you already because he loves you and misses you. Treat you with the same care he treated Corina or the way you’re treating your milkshake. Wouldn’t have looked at you with the fascination you would look at an experiment.

No, that’s not true. You could never be as lovely as this milkshake.

He is not talking to you because you have deceived him. You have lied to him for months, pretending to be someone you were not. Maybe your feelings and actions were genuine but you were not thoroughly honest with either, catfishing him with the younger, better human version of you. You slept with him in a body that was not yours and that was wrong, you can see it now. You have hurt him, and this is on you. Time to assume the consequences of your actions and face them for once in your life.

You snuggle in your hoodie, getting cozy in your seat against the window of the diner. The Other Woman is playing on your MP3, and you take a long angry sip of your milkshake, ruining its immaculate aspect.

Nine years ago, you wouldn’t be sitting here alone. Anathema would have kept you company across the table with a milkshake of her own, having deep late-night conversations or just rambling about what she did that day. Were Ortega at her side, the attention digger would try to make everything about himself but you wouldn’t mind, satisfied to listen and to be between friends. Christ on a stick, you would have even dragged Ashfall if the day had been as depressing as today.

‘Come on Ash, join us, pretty please? Won’t you do this for your favorite buddy?’ He was always fussy about his sleep schedule but could never say no to your puppy eyes.

Would you be capable of making those puppy eyes to him again? To smile without a care for Ortega? To sit down, laugh and enjoy the company of people who are no longer your dear friends while the countless eyes of the people murdered with your own hands sneak accusatory glances at you from the corner of the room?

You are not that girl anymore. Your hopes and dreams were shattered like the glass of the window you flew through the day of the Heartbreak incident. Your heart is as filthy as the sewer waters, your smile crooked and wicked, like a witch’s that got out from a children’s fairytale.

Your face twists into a grimace, so you pick up your milkshake and continue drinking. The road you’ve decided to walk is a solitary one, behind you a bloody path of corpses and ruined lives. At first, you were convinced that they deserved the rampage of murder and chaos that was coming for them but every time you wash your hands, the blood is still there and you’re not that certain anymore.

Their hands are gripping your ankles, sinking their nails in your scarred skin, heads raised at you, one single question hissed: “Was it necessary?”

You don’t know. And you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel slightly remorseful about your actions, but they are pushing up daisies, so it’s not like apologies or regrets will bring them back. Your fallout with Mortum is the actual relevant matter.

A solitary tear rolls down your cheek in mockery and you quickly wipe it, as if it never slipped in the first place. He’s the only person you have left. You have been on your own for too long and now that you know what it’s like to be loved and treasured, you don’t want him to take that from you. Being alone is frightening and you hate that feeling almost as much as you hate yourself. You never get to keep nice things for yourself before life takes them away from you.

“Excuse me.” You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the waiter at your table, with a new strawberry milkshake.

“I didn’t order this.” You take off your earphones, annoyed you had to pause the music.

“This one is on the house,” she replies quickly, leaving no room for debate and putting the drink in front of you. “Do you mind if I keep you company?”

You scan her mind for threats, finding none. She thinks you’re lonely, and judging by your scars, that something horrible must have happened to you. She’s not wrong on that one; plenty of horrible things have happened to you. A broken heart being perhaps the only story you can share; not that you're going to. She also thinks that such beautiful eyes shouldn’t be filled with tears and that gorgeous women shouldn’t be so sad.

“Okay.” You mutter, flustered and embarrassed, because you wish you hadn’t heard those last thoughts. In normal circumstances, you would have given her the brush-off but she means well and you crave human connection, even if it’s superficial and with a stranger who won’t remember your name tomorrow.

The lady goes back to the bar to prepare a milkshake for herself, oreo-flavored based on the color, which matches her lively attitude. Makes sense, sad girls like you drink strawberry milkshakes.

#fallen hero #fhr #fallen hero retribution #celia bui #sidestep #fh sidestep #my writing

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achilleanwizard · 1 year

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I was tagged by @punkranger (Thank you!!! 😊) And I’m going to tag @gelvaan @sataari @mutantenfisch @deviant3lover @averagejermafan @demianwas and @aelyosos (Feel free to ignore this if you’ve already done it, or just don’t feel like filling it out for your OC(s)!! I’ve just noticed you guys talking about your ocs, and I’d love to hear more about them!)

BASICS

Full Name: Alexander Valente

Gender: Male?? Look, we’ve got more important things to worry about right now, okay?

Sexuality: Biromantic Bisexual

Pronouns: As of right now? Just he/him. He’s pretty comfy with she/her too though. It’s flattering that people think he might be a girl

OTHERS

Family: He never had anyone he considered family; Just very good friends. If asked about it, then he’d say something along the lines of “Do you think I would take the boost drug, with a notoriously very low survival rate, in order to get superhero powers if I had any family I wanted to talk about?”

Birthplace: ???, Nevada, USA

Job: A consultant. Who is he advising and what is he giving them advice about? Mind your business

Phobias: Spiders. Heights. Especially looking out of windows from a very tall height. Admitting he has feelings for a certain someone(s). Abandonment. Probably a whole bucketful more, but those are the main ones.

Guilty Pleasures: Sugar in all it’s various forms (even if he needs the energy to function/for his telepathy) Taking the time to read and appreciate art when not working. Painting his nails (but only when possessing the Puppet’s body) Taking time off work. Buying three entire floors of a luxury skyscraper to house his villain base/office, Renting the most luxurious top floor penthouse (That would make Mayor Osborn (from spider-man) weep tears of envy) he could afford for a home that he barely resides in, Pleasures of the flesh (it’s like a catholic priest up in here) Honestly, it would be easier to list things he isn’t guilty about. (Killing. He’s not guilty about those he’s killed, even if he should be.)

Hobbies: Playing piano. Scheming. Beating up Daniel behind a Wendy’s parking lot Training Daniel. Kissing Daniel too. Starting fights that he can’t possibly hope to win/finish

MORALS

Morality Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Sins: Desire / Despair / Envy / Fear / Hunger / Pride / Rage / Sloth (so almost all of them…)

Virtues: Charity / Chastity / Diligence / Humility / Justice / Kindness / Patience

THIS OR THAT

introvert/extrovert organized/disorganized close minded/open-minded calm/anxious disagreeable/agreeable cautious/reckless patient/impatient outspoken/reserved leader/follower empathetic/unempathic optimistic/pessimistic traditional/modern hard-working/lazy

RELATIONSHIPS

Otp: It’s cruel that you’re making me choose between Herald and Ortega. But gun to my head…. Chargestep. There’s nothing quite like old lost loves.

Ot3: I forget the ‘official’ name for it but, Herald/Sidestep/Ortega (Flychargestep? Chargeflystep?)

Acceptable Ships: Alexander flirts with everyone possible, so. Argentstep. Steelstep. Mortumstep? <- Is that the right name? Anyway, he’ll smooch just about anyone.

Brotp: I have to admit, I’ve been thinking about different Sidestep interactions from time to time. I think he’d be good buddies with some, and have a, uh, very *interesting* dynamic with others. Not naming any specific Sidesteps to 1. Avoid any favoritism and 2. Not humiliate myself even further. He’s annoying though, and he revels in that, so it might only be a good time for him. Oh, also Anathema and Sidestep. Best bros for life (or death)

Notp: Oh, this one’s tough. Shroud/Sidestep if that’s even a thing. It’s on sight for him with her. He don’t trust random Regenes like that. (Unless it’s a multiple Sidesteps AU) HG/Sidestep too cause… yeah. If you know you know. Icky. Blaze/Sidestep, because I like teasing my friends(?) (acquaintances?) 😉

#Notice how Nocturne and Jake aren’t on the Notp list….#anyway they can give Alexander a call if they want a good time 🤙#he’s Mr. steal your [redacted]’s girlfriend and/or boyfriend #…actually now that I’m embarrassing myself anyway #I’ve also been thinking about some sidestep/sidestep interactions for him….#which I will keep entirely to myself #and goodnight #tag games #oc: alexander valente #Anyway I’m so very sorry that this is probably incomprehensible to some of you guys #and to that I say… please play Fallen Hero: Rebirth cause it’s so very good #10/10 video game #and the sequel is coming out on February 2nd!#2023 #in case the year was in question

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