Red Ring's [100] Video Game Musings [22% Complete] Upd. [3.28.20]

[Red Ring of Death]

DISCLAIMER: MOST LIKELY SPOILERS INBOUND. Most likely. You've been warned.

So I thought about this for a good long while then didn't think about it for an even longer while and I just now got around to having a few to make this drabble thread feel warranted. As previously mentioned, this is for VIDEO GAMES - I'm a huge gamer [[ if you couldn't tell by my four other stories, all of which are video games ]] so ALL 100 of these prompts are gonna be video games. Probably the same eight video games, depending. Might do some Dragon Age, maybe some more Don't Start, def. some Uncharted... expect a bunch of Troy Baker. Sssssorry about that.

SO to start us off, how 'bout three stories, each with Troy Baker characters! Hah hah hah-- sorry. ALSO I'm making each story an individual post so if you see a game or something and you're like "nope", you can just skip over it, easy peasy. Also also I'm pretty open to video games so if you can think of one (that's not a JRPG, sorry I just can't seem to write those for the life of me and there's waaaaaay too many of them for me to even pretend to keep track of) and you're like "How come there isn't a fic about THIS" then I might be able to hook you up. Maybe.

OKAY okay enough rambling. Here we go.
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[80.] Only Human
[Video Game] inFAMOUS Second Son
Delsin Rowe – [M]
Length – [718]

 

He was shaken from his absent, watery stare in the mirror by several sharp raps on the wooden door. He blinked with a small shake of his head and he could’ve sworn he felt sloshing as if a half-dead octopus was feebly lulling around in his sinuses, suction cups blocking his nose with tentacles creeping down the back of his throat in a perpetual state of slime.

“Delsin, man, come on out.” Reggie’s voice was still clear despite the door that separated them. Delsin shook his head as if Reggie could see, keeping his dark eyes on his rather pale reflection – well, it was less that he appeared pale and more that his nose and eyes were more pronounced in colour; dark rings circled his lower eyelids, nostrils tinged a fine shade of berry mixed with his sienna skin.

“No way,” He replied adamantly with a pronounced sniff, like that did him any favours as he sounded like a bicycle pump trying to give air to a tire but the nozzle wasn’t on correctly. “This is so stupid,” He growled with the childish frustration of a teenager going through puberty.

“What, getting a cold?” Reggie asked slowly. Delsin hated hearing that tone from his brother; it was somewhat dismissive and with a hint of insincerity as if he couldn’t believe that Delsin was being serious. He could picture Reggie on the other side of the door, scoffing to himself and knitting his brows upwards as if to say ‘really?’ He decided to humour his brother, however and frowned at himself in the mirror.

“Yeah. It’s bullshit, man. I’m a CONDUIT.” The underlying frustration that simmered beneath his warm surface started frothing, melting in with the overall feeling of fatigue and irritated sinuses. He tried a little harder to push it under though self-control was never his strong suit; he had some very… specific words to share with anyone within earshot when he first felt the stronger aspects of the cold start to take hold; sniffing, coughing, weariness, sore throat, congestion, the whole shebang. “Conduits are supposed to have that healing factor; we don’t GET sick.”

There was a period of silence as Reggie seemed to be contemplating. “Well… aren’t Bio-ter—Conduits. Aren’t Conduits people, too? Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me?” He cut himself short with correction and Delsin was internally grateful that his brother was still working on that. “I mean… you’re still human. You’re my brother, you have skin and organs, it still hurts if I punch you on the arm, right?” Delsin thickly exhaled through his mouth with a noncommittal nod.

“I guess.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘oh wow you’re right again, Reg. I didn’t think of it like that before’.” Reggie replied with just a hint of smugness. “Now come on out.” Delsin looked over at the door and licked his lips.

“I, uh… I can’t do that.” Delsin said hesitantly.

“Why not? C’mon, you’re being a drama queen about this. It’s just a cold.” He could hear faint ticks of irritation starting to spike into Reggie’s tone, reminding him that they could both be turned on and off like switches, Reggie was just better about the control.

Speaking of control… “Yeah, but another problem with the whole “Conduit” thing is— ‘ETCHuh!” It was explosive… literally. Smoke ruptured from his frame as if he spontaneously caught fire, denting the door and smashing the lip off of the toilet. Sure enough, water started to spout everywhere and Delsin let out a small cry of surprise as he flattened himself against the door, clasping a thumb and forefinger on the bridge of his nose. He felt Reggie knocking vivaciously.

“Delsin! What happened?” He asked, not bothering to hide the big brother concern in his voice. Delsin licked his lips as the water spraying from the toilet started soaking through his four layers of clothes.

“Two words, bro: Super sneeze.” He said breathily; on the one hand, it was awful but at the same time it was SORT of really cool. He could almost feel Reggie rolling his eyes again.

“This is… not that serious but still Del, just TRY to keep it under wraps?” He pleaded. Delsin pursed his lips for a second as the gears turned with a pronounced sniff.

“…Fine. No guarantees.” Suddenly, this whole "cold" business seemed a little less terrible.

[Red Ring of Death]

[34.] Shades of Grey
[Video Game] Uncharted 4
Sam Drake – [M]
Length – [919]

 

“Keep truckin’,” Nathan grunted as he crawled through a labyrinthine series of vents that snaked through the walls and ceiling of the multi-floored building they were breaking into. He examined the schematics they had managed to snag but even still, the place was confusing.

“Hh’eszhch! *snffFF* I’ve BEEN trucking. We’ve been in these goddamn vents for te-ehnnn minutes.” Nathan heard Sam’s thick voice rasp from behind him, sounding eternally caught in the struggle for control that he was thrown into, trapped in a stasis between sniffing and hitching for breath as his inhales caught in his throat and nose. Nathan couldn’t help but feel for his brother; it was roughly the equivalent of Nathan staring into the sun for ten minutes or, more accurately, with a kitten shoved in his face.

He was optimistic, however. “I know.” He encouraged gently as he turned a corner into another section of vent, checking where his hands were scraping the floor of the vent to see if they had already been here; judging by the thick, still coat of dust blanketing the ground, they had not. Nathan was torn whether he should try to sweep it forward as he went or place his hands and knees more carefully to avoid kicking a bunch of it up. “We’re almost there.” He assured though he himself wasn’t entirely convinced… at least they were in a different area and he KNEW they had been working their way up.

Sam sniffled behind him before vibrating the entire vent with another sinus-wrenching sneeze. “H’ESCzchuh!” Just the sound told Nathan that his brother was just about done being in there; when they started their expedition, there was a lot of denial and stifling going on but as they progressed and Sam’s sneezes became more systematic and almost to the beat of a rhythm, he didn’t bother trying to strangle them anymore. “Please tell me you didn’t get us lost.”

Nathan’s brow furrowed slightly. “The tone you said that with makes me sad.”

“Yeah, well… This better be—Huh’ASCZchhz! Ugh. Worth it.” Nathan glanced ahead at the vent though a different thought crossed his mind.

“You aren’t SPRAYING me, are you?” He asked dryly, creating small talk as he mentally tried to figure out where they were… a left, up and another left should’ve put them in their desired room, an old library with a supposedly hidden archive. Jackpot.

“What? No, why would I do that?” Sam scoffed behind him with another wet sniff. Nathan shrugged as he turned them left.

“I dunno, you DID used to pin me down and threaten to spit on my forehead so I thought the same principle would apply here.” C’mon, indulge him, they were almost out… anything to distract from the unfortunate circumstance that they were placed in – every time Sam sneezed, it was a little twinge of guilt in Nathan’s heart because at the base of this operation, it was Nathan’s idea. Sam hadn’t objected but he suggested going through windows and it was Nathan’s suggestion to use the vents in favour of subterfuge.

“That was *sniff* eight years ago.” Sam replied back. “Though I’m not sure an-anymore since we’ve been in here for—H’esnchhs! Guh… forever. I can feel my hair growing.” Nathan stood and pulled himself into the connecting vent some four feet above them, being as careful as he could not to kick up more dust right into Sam’s face.

“We’re almost there, sheesh. Keep your nose on,” Nathan could SEE their exit. They were so close.

“I’m kicking you in the face when we get out.” Sam replied in the most deadpan way Nathan thought possible.

“You wouldn’t.”

“…I wouldn’t.”

“Great. C’mon, sniffles, up and at ‘em. Exit’s right up here.” He heard Sam clamber into the vent behind him, coughing with two or three more systematic sneezes as the duo finally reached the grate.

“Use that nickname again and I’ll—“ Sam didn’t have time to finish his threat when Nathan promptly stopped him and covered Sam’s mouth, holding a finger up to his lips and giving Sam an alert look before pointing out of the grate as an overweight security guard absently scratched his head while waltzing around, holding a flashlight aloft.

“Don’t… make… any… noise.” He whispered. Sam rolled his eyes and cast a half-lidded expression to his brother before shaking his head out of Nathan’s hand.

“Jesus, I’m not gonna—H’NNchsh!” He barely had time to muffle the tail of the sneeze as he and Nathan collaboratively slammed all four of their hands onto Sam’s mouth, freezing on the spot as Nathan flared his own nostrils, daring to look out of the grate at a pace slower than grass growing. The security guard’s flashlight flailed for a moment as he tried to find where the noise was Nathan saw him look out of a window before shrugging and meandering away.

Nathan shuddered an exhale and lowered his hands before quickly opening the grate and almost pulling Sam out by the collar. “Sorry for hitting you,” He apologized as Sam kept a tight hand clamping his nose shut. The elder Drake gave Nathan a pointed look but shrugged it off.

“Sorry for making noise.” He apologized back. Nathan gave his brother a pat on the back, watching a small cloud of dust erupt from Sam’s shoulder.

“Let’s go. …Try not to do it again.” He said dryly. Sam didn’t reply but gave a small nod followed by a stifled cough.

‘Try’ was the key word.

[Red Ring of Death]

[72.] Pretense
[Video Game] The Last of Us
Joel – [M]
Length – [608]

 

“Hey, you sure you’re okay?” He didn’t glance over his shoulder this time as the trio kept on the beaten path at a steady pace, rhythmically timed by Callus’ hoof beats on the dirt.

“I said ‘m fine. Don’t ask again.” Though they had been getting along better since their departure from Tommy’s, today was markedly quiet as the light drizzle from the last few days gave no indication of either letting up or pressing harder; it was as steady as their progress, which was halted only by their stopping here and there for brief rest stops.

“I only asked twice.” Ellie replied, her voice starting to rise in pitch in that typical frustrated way though she wasn’t sure why she was getting frustrated; maybe it was because he was being particularly grouchy. She knew to expect it but nonetheless, his jarring two-faced behaviour sometimes grated on her.

“Twice is enough,” Joel replied firmly; as per usual fashion, he wasn’t the type to talk about or even remotely draw attention to things that were on his mind, especially the ones that weren’t a matter of survival. He COULD’VE admitted that he wasn’t feeling one hundred percent, but… he wasn’t going to. “Jus’… stay focused on the…” Joel trailed off, which in itself wasn’t new; he usually did when something else crossed his mind and they found themselves close to an encounter with enemies or if he just didn’t want to talk about anything anymore. This time, though, Ellie was a little dubious.

“’Stay focused on the’ what?” She wheedled as she peered over his shoulder, hoping that he would either answer with the rest of the sentence or give her a look – either way, she was gonna get a response. Instead, Joel’s shoulders quivered ever-so-slightly before he sharply lurched forward into the crook of his left arm that he had subtly been lifting.

“Hh’RRSCHh’huh!” Ellie thought she was gonna jump right off of Callus’ hindquarters; she wasn’t sure what she was expecting but it certainly wasn’t the hurricane sneeze barely muffled into Joel’s flannel shirt sleeve.

“Jesus, Joel!” She exclaimed, gripping the saddle for support to keep from falling off. Giving a quiet, liquid sniffle, the older man looked over his shoulder at her as if daring her to say something sarcastic... Which, of course, she had to since he DID tell her not to ask if he was okay anymore. “You trying to let everyone know where we are?” She was being mostly pretentious; they were usually pretty lucky when it came to running into enemies when they were rural but she figured if she tried being serious about it, he’d just have a poorer reaction.

He paused for a moment, sniffling again and just staring at her before turning and looking ahead again. “Nope,” He replied rather simply. Ellie quirked an eyebrow. “If anything, it scared everything away.” Ellie gave him a look; was he being serious right now?

“Yeah, okay,” She drawled sarcastically. He gave a small shrug with a head movement. “You know if we end up getting attacked, I’m blaming you, right?” She scoffed, trying to get a look at his face again from around his frame as she leaned.

“Won’t happen,” He insisted with the tinge of a shiver in his guttural tone. Ellie pursed her lips and fell into silence once more, looking into the misty, drizzled forest contemplatively. Bullshit as that excuse was, she felt herself believing him in their temporary safety. In any case, regardless of the reason, she knew Joel wasn’t about to stop so this conversation might as well have been over.

‘Scaring everything away’. What a dumb excuse.

[Watercolor Daydreams]

*sees Uncharted 4 drabble* *hyperventilates*

*sees THE LAST OF US DRARBELBBLE* *HYPERVENTILATES AND SHRIEKS*

OH MY GOSH YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG I HAVE WAITED FOR SOMEBODY TO WRITE FOR THE LAST OF US!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOLY SHIT EIOWHTOIWRHTREJHTREJHKTEHRKTJHREJ THANK YOU <3 <3 <3

ANYWAYS. THESE WERE INCREDIBLE. (and to think that there are going to be 100 of these babies on this thread?? )

[Red Ring of Death]

[83.] Breakfast
[Video Game] Uncharted 4
Nathan– [M]
Length – [1050]

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They were currently not on speaking terms after a spat last night involving a failed mark. There was a little bit of disagreement regarding which of the two Drake brothers was at fault and though it didn’t quite reach fist-fight levels of heat, it was enough for a few door slams and both of them losing their appetites.

Now they sat at the table together, albeit begrudgingly (they had decided on not eating in their rooms after an ant infestation because of a story for a different day). Sam, as per usual, had gotten up first and though he already cooked up some scrambled eggs for Nathan as well as himself, he didn’t really bother with the condiments or accessories and regarded his breakfast in silence, holding his fork with a limp wrist. He hadn’t started yet, possibly out of habit of waiting for Nathan.

It didn’t take too long for the smell of eggs cooking to wake Nate from his stupor and the younger brother started to stumble into the kitchen before abruptly straightening up as if he was awake the entire time. He didn’t say anything or even look at Sam, who followed suit, picked up his plate of eggs and sat down across from his brother.

There was an awkward silence where the two just looked at their food before Nathan decided to break the mold first and took a forkful of the fluffy yellow eggs and dug in. He didn’t get very far when he grimaced and set his fork down.

“You didn’t put any salt on them?” He thought he meant to sound more sarcastic than bitter but it came across as the latter anyway. Sam parted his lips partially and gave Nathan a look.

“You know where the salt is, don’t you?” He replied dryly, pointing over his shoulder. Nathan stood up with a huff and walked around the table bodily, plucking the entire box of salt out of the cabinet as well as glass shaker of pepper and a bottle of hot sauce – he was finicky sometimes, what could he say. He set the three things on the table and sat down, again, a little dramatically. He carefully pulled open the tab on the salt, revealing the little holes on the top and gently sprinkled the white crystals on his eggs. Leaving it open, he put the box down and took another test bite of egg while Sam watched him with a deadpan expression on his face.

He paused mid-chew and reached into his mouth, pulling out a piece of egg, stuck out his tongue and placed it on a napkin. “AND there’s pieces of shell in this. Great.” Sam slowly chewed his bite and gave Nathan a half-lidded stare.

“Fine, then have some of mine,” He said sharply, tossing some of his egg onto Nathan’s plate. “Don’t worry, I made sure not to have any shell in it.” Nathan glared at his brother, tossing some of his back in turn.

“Then here, have some with SALT on it. Like, actual flavor instead of just mushy Styrofoam.” He retorted. Sam leaned back as the egg barely made it onto his plate and he dropped his fork, gritting his teeth.

“W-- hell, why stop there?” He picked his plate up and dumped the contents onto Nathan’s shoddily before snatching up the salt with such vivacity that the hot sauce bottle tipped over lazily and rolled onto the floor with a solid ‘thud’. “Here, have ALL of the salt if you love salt on your eggs so much!” He snarled with just the ghost of a grin on his face, turning the box upside down and basically pouring the entire contents onto Nathan’s eggs, making a small white mountain on the plate.

Nathan scoffed and stood up quickly, banging his fist on the edge of the plate to the contents flew in Sam’s general direction. Sam had the agility to lift his own now-foodless plate to shield him from the incoming onslaught of egg and salt.

“You know this means WAR,” He announced, snatching the pepper shaker off of the table before flipping it with his free hand, scattering egg all over the floor. Nathan snatched up his own plate and the ketchup from the counter-top, rolling out of the kitchen and diving behind the wall connecting to the doorway. As he sat there with his greasy, salty plate, he fiddled with the bottle, removing the protective plastic before screwing the lid back on.

“I’m heavily armed!” He shouted, peering around the doorway just long enough to get a crackshot with the ketchup as it squirted forward in a thick red stream before plastering itself on the tabletop. He ducked behind the wall again and sucked more air into the bottle, waiting for a reply from Sam. It was silent. “…Hello?” He asked aloud. No sooner had he asked that he heard a whistle imitating a bomb falling from the sky. Instinctively, he flinched, pinching his eyes closed, waiting for something to happen… but nothing DID happen. He poked his head out from the wall as if he missed something. He didn’t see anything. “Gonna have to do better than—“

*SMASH*

And suddenly all he could see was a hazy grey cloud billowing in the air. The gasp of surprise turned into coughing as his nose twitched. Smelled like—

“Oh man, you’re a di—HH’DSHhh! Friggin’ JERK—Huh’JDSHhuh!” He closed his eyes and pinched his nose shut as he backed up from the smashed pepper shaker. Uuugh it burned and stung and he needed to SNEEZE—

“Just admit surrender,” He heard Sam call from the kitchen.

“You’ve gotta be… HH’IDSHNn! Kidding me!” Nathan sputtered back. “Like hell I’m go-onna *cough* surrender to you!”

“Then we’ll go halfsies,” Sam replied. “I’m sorry for messing up the mark. BUT you didn’t have to react the way you did.” He called rather earnestly. Nathan blinked back tears, dropping his hands from his nose and mouth with a noncommittal shrug.

“Fine, I’m so—heh’IDSHhn. *sniff* Sorry, too.” He apologized, feeling like the last of it escaped from his system. Friggin’ pepper, seriously. There was a pause.

“No problem.” And like that, Sam was around the corner, offering Nathan a hand up. “C’mon, soldier. Let’s get this cleaned up.”

[Red Ring of Death]

How come when I wanna write a full story, I can't make it long enough then with drabbles, they end up being too long. -SIGH-

I've been... busy. With video games. They're my favourite, you know.
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[91.] - Answers
[Video Game] Borderlands 2
Axton – [M]
Length – [1.165]
 

Maya wasn’t originally going to press the matter but after hearing what felt like the thirtieth sneeze in about ten minutes come from Axton behind her, the redundant noise mixed with the fact that they were half-lost was just a bad combo and she stopped shortly though she stumbled forward as every other Vault Hunter rammed into each other behind her like cars piling up – what, were they walking single-file?

“Can you stop?” She asked as politely as she could while rolling her eyes under closed eyelids, clenching her fists briefly to release stress. She took a hearty step away from the rest of the group who had also spaced out after their conga mashup save for Krieg; he hadn’t even been near them, it appeared as he busied himself with doing whatever Krieg did on his downtime, away from the group.

“Oh god, I thought I was the only one.” Gaige agreed in that teenager-esque exhale. “I just didn’t wanna be that asshole that said anything.” Maya turned to regard the rest of the team from Gaige’s somewhat exasperated expression to Zer0’s shining mask to Axton’s—ooh, he looked miserable; red, watering eyes, the makings of a rash creeping across his cheeks which only seemed to worsen the more he rubbed his face, pink-tinged nose. She instantly felt a little bad at being so abrupt about it.

There was a pause of silence broken by a thick sniff from Axton as the latter appeared clueless at first before his brow knitted in the middle slightly. “Stop what—Hh’itzhu! Sorry, stop what?” And just like that, the pity was gone. It was so rhythmic, like a drum right on a beat. She was surprised that she was surprised that it interrupted him given how they were usually around every 20 or so seconds and it had been that long since the last one.

“…That. Are you okay?” She put her weight on one foot as she placed a hand on her hip, keeping her pale eyes on Axton’s unusually red face and trying to remain stone-faced and firm. “You’ve been like this since we left Ellie’s.” The military man knuckled his septum as he avoided her glare, almost trying to focus on anything else but being unable to as his face slowly reached the point where another sneeze escaped, right on schedule.

“H’itzhuh! Ugh… Yeah, I’m fine.” Axton coughed his answer out, none too convincingly for the rest of the team. Maya exchanged a half-glance with Zer0, who seemed to be the only other member actually paying attention to the situation – Gaige and Salvador had already grown bored and wandered off to scavenge the area and Krieg was…. Krieg. At least he was being quiet for the time being.

“Red eyes watering. His voice is audibly thick.” Zer0 tilted his head slightly. “He has allergies.” Maya quirked an eyebrow, not sure if she was taken aback at his astute observation though it seemed really obvious now that it was on the table. Not making matters better, Axton shot Zer0 a quick glare as he sniffed again, clearing his throat.

The Siren glanced at Zer0. “To what? He didn’t even go into Ellie’s.” There was another small pause and the assassin flashed a “:3” face across the black screen. “…OHHHH her cat?” She asked; it hadn’t even crossed her mind that anyone could be allergic to the little ball of fluff that Ellie had chanced upon in the garbage one day – Maya had never even seen a normal cat before. It was so adorable and precious… her empathy levels for Axton increased just a little more and her expression softened. “You could’ve… just told us.” She finished after pausing again for Axton to sneeze in the middle of her sentence. “Okay so if he didn’t go inside, then why’s he having that reaction?”

“I’m right here, you know.” Axton interjected thickly.

“I know. … Do YOU have the answer?” She had gotten used to not getting answers at this point but it still irritated her when someone didn’t HAVE an answer for the simpler questions.

“It’s the gun he has,” Zer0 replied before Axton had a chance to (and indeed, the latter was already hitching for another sneeze – at least the military man was good at routines). “I found it in her garage. I gave it to him.” He explained, which suddenly made more sense considering Ellie’s kitten was all over Zer0, no doubt covering him in whatever was all over her – fur, dander, saliva residue from cleaning herself.

“Well…. Hate to break it to you, Axton, but you need to get rid of the gun.” Maya suggested though it was less of a suggestion and more of an order; he wasn’t any use to them when he could barely see and sneezing his head off.

He took it well. “Hell no, I love this gun. I’ve been needing a better assa-ult—Hh’itzhn! Rifle anyway.” As he spoke, despite how miserable he looked, he appeared more visibly disappointed as he drew the rifle closer to his chest as if he were cradling a small animal or a child. Maya’s shoulders drooped. Was he… being serious? He’d rather suffer than already get rid of the stupid gun?

“I’ll buy you a new one.” Maya tried to bribe. “You know how this works – you’ll find a better one in the next settlement we go murder.” She held one of her arms out to take the rifle while the other reached onto her back and pulled off her favourite slag SMG, Maliwan-brand. “I’ll even let you borrow my SMG ‘til we find you a better assault rifle. How’s that?” Anything to get the cat problem taken care of, she supposed.

There was a rather painstakingly lengthy bout of silence broken only by Axton’s rhythmic sneezes when he finally caved, deciding that it might NOT’VE been worth being itchy and red and teary-eyed and he begrudgingly handed the assault rifle over with a plaintive sniff. She took it carefully and handed him the SMG in turn, which he handled delicately.

“Great. Thanks, Axton. We’ll find you a better one, don’t worry.” She encouraged, stowing the assault rifle on her back (though she intended to trash it next chance they got). “Now… you lead the way again and Zer0 and I will bring up the back so you can get all the fresh air.” The military man looked at the ground for a moment before nodding with a sigh and marched off to take his place at the front of the group.

“Round ‘em up, we’re heading out,” He called to the other three members, his already-gravely voice more accentuated due to the phlegm that was caught in his throat.

“FINALLY.” Gaige chimed unhelpfully. Maya gave her a pointed look and Gaige smiled coyly as the group started to head out once more. Maya exhaled with what felt like relief; at least he wouldn’t be interrupting the silence with sneezing anymore.

[Red Ring of Death]

[76.] Summer Haze
[Video Game] Uncharted 4
Sam [M]
Length [915]


The younger Drake glanced down at his watch, breaking his stare at the small TV as the box glowed with lights and sounds floated through the air. “It’s been three hours. How do you feel?” He was talking to, of course, his older brother as the latter lounged on the other side of the ragged couch in their apartment. At being addressed, Sam rolled his head until he looked at Nathan lazily and Nathan could tell that his brother was definitely sick; it was a sort of sixth sense at this point.

“I’d say ‘fine’ but you wouldn’t believe me.” Sam’s voice came out like crackling parchment. Nathan winced slightly; this morning, Sam had woken up late and when Nathan went to retrieve him, the elder Drake was pale and suppressing body-wracking urges to shiver. Nathan had a feeling the cold had settled in the night prior, not that Sam would ever admit it – he hated getting sick in general, but the feeling only seemed to worsen in the summer.

“Well, you’d be right. I don’t; you sound pretty crappy.” Nathan replied casually as if it were common knowledge and nothing to be a diva about… though he wasn’t putting it past his older brother to be melodramatic in an attempt to shrug it off. He set the remote he was loosely holding on the arm of the couch and got to his feet. “I’ll turn the air up; if you told me you weren’t freezing, you’d be lying some more.” It wasn’t common for Sam to get sick but the telltale signs were visible – Sam was a good actor but even he couldn’t hide how he felt sometimes.

Sam’s watery gaze followed Nathan as the latter stood up, leaning forward and opening his mouth as if about to say something but nothing came out. The younger Drake didn’t pause, instead going over to the thermostat.

“God bless.” He had been around the block before; if anything, this was a sure-fire indicator that Sam WAS sick. He could feel daggers on his back as he was sure Sam glared at him but it didn’t matter; they both knew better.

“… . . Hh’ISZNnn!” It only took the first sneeze for Nathan to hear the congestion, raw pain, soreness, fatigue and even the little bit of embarrassment. Colds were already annoying but summer colds were somehow worse, feeling both hot and freezing at the same time though you knew it was just getting warmer outside. If he was right about this (and he usually was at this point in their lives), there would be a short pause, followed by—“Hz’ZCHuh!” There was always two, sometimes a third if Sam was in the middle of a sentence. The second sneeze was accompanied by some rattling coughs and the quiet curse of “dammit”. Nathan glanced over his shoulder at the elder Drake, quirking an eyebrow.

“We aren’t going anywhere today.” He announced firmly.

“You can’t tell me what to do” Was the response, choked out between hacking coughs that dislodged a buildup of phlegm.

“I can right now. I’m in charge since big brother’s sick.”

“… I’m gonna kill you.”

Nathan couldn’t help but give Sam a wry smile. “Psht, no you aren’t. You love me, I’m an angel.”

“Of death. I’m blaming you for this. Who even gets sick in the summer, anyway?”

“You, evidently; they're called SUMMER colds for a reason. Now shut up, CURL up, and watch something on TV and I’ll get you some water and a blanket.” Nathan instructed, starting to work his way into the kitchen.

“I don’t need –cough cough- water. I need to go out there and steal something.” The younger Drake couldn’t help but smile to himself, shaking his head as Sam couldn’t even complete his sentence without coughing as his voice rose to carry to the kitchen. Nathan plucked a bottle of water from their small cabinet and journeyed back through the living room behind the couch, deciding to play it casual as he dropped the bottle of water onto Sam’s lap as he passed over. He didn’t watch Sam’s reaction but judging by the surprised yelp, he wasn’t expecting it.

“HEY!” Sam shouted with a cough as Nathan cheerfully went into his room and fished a spare blanket out of his closet. “You don’t ha-ave… have to beanassabouti— ‘IZHhn!” Aaaand there was the third one, geared up and ready to go for when Sam decided to talk more. It was interesting, really, how Sam’s body seemed to know when he was trying to talk and managed to either make him hurry up and finish what he was trying to say or falter mid-sentence.

Nathan unfolded the blanket as he made his way back into the living room, going behind Sam on the couch and gently draping the material over his brother’s cold body. “Quit being a princess, that’s my job.” Sam rolled his eyes and tried to look bitter but Nathan could tell that he was secretly appreciative.

“Yeah, well… stop being a mom, that’s what the Sisters were for.”

“Ooh, good one. I’ll go get you some medicine while you come up with an actual quick-witted response.”

“…I’m not your friend right now.”

“I love you, too.”  There was a pause followed by an exchange of small smiles between brothers. Nathan patted the back of the couch and went into the bathroom.

Next step: medicine taking. Mm, Nathan couldn’t wait for THAT battle.

[Watercolor Daydreams]

D'aww that was so cute <3 I love Nathan blessing him before Sam even sneezes 

[Red Ring of Death]

[21.] Never Again
[Video Game] Uncharted 4
Sam [M]
Length [813]

 

It originally started as a restlessness that grew into passive-aggressive suggestion before expanding into full-blown irritation at being trapped in the house for a week solid at Nathan’s insistence. He couldn’t quite figure how he had been coerced into agreeing but they were at the library now, Nathan rather boredly sitting at one of the wooden tables as Sam rifled through old books on a nearby shelf. He didn’t have to be nearby for Nathan to hear him, though; his still thick sniffing was instantly recognizable to the younger Drake, who could close his eyes and still be able to hear exactly where Sam was.

Speaking of closing eyes, he considered just laying his head down for a few minutes, just to get a little bit of sleep – Sam’s cold had mostly subsided by this point, turning from a shivering frame drenched in sweat to a firm blockage in the sinuses and he didn’t just sleep, he was sawing logs. His snoring was so loud that Nathan could hear it through BOTH their doors, which was exceedingly rare; he was a relatively heavy sleeper. If they were in any other position, Nathan would’ve stayed home to catch a few more zeds but he was still consciously trying to keep Sam out of latent mischief, which was still a strange feeling to him.

He was on the brink of slumping over in his seat when he was yanked back to reality as he heard Sam smother a sneeze into his shoulder. His brow furrowed as his blue eyes opened slowly, glancing over at his brother who had since grown used to it(at least during this cold) and was now looking at an open book in his hands, nose wrinkling to stave off an itch that Nathan knew was still there.

“You shouldn’t stifle them” was Nathan’s exhaled reaction, closing his eyes again and leaning on an arm. “I’ve been telling you that all week.” He quirked an eyebrow, knowing Sam either rolled his eyes or cast the younger Drake a brief look.

“We’re in a library.” Sam replied in a hiss, a dry smile tugging at his mouth. “Pardon me if I’m trying to keep it on the down-low.” Nathan licked his lips with a small sigh as he leaned over more, deciding not to create a scene with Sam over something pseudo-trivial. Sam had a good point this time, though. His thought process began to slow as his breathing became more rhythmic, steady as a cat nap tried to brush its fingers against his eyes.

He wasn’t sure how long he had managed to doze off before suddenly jerking awake. “HH’ASCHuh!” It was easily the loudest thing Nathan had ever heard and for a fleeting moment, adrenaline pumped through him as if someone just yelled in his ear as he flinched back from the noise. His eyes snapped open with a gasp and hurriedly turned to the source of the noise, at least from where he could gather, only to purse his lips and close his eyes with a short sigh as Sam sniffed less than a foot away from where his head was just moments before. The elder Drake straightened up as his nose twitched again, a rather smug look on his face from what Nathan saw before realizing that Sam was just making his life hard.

“Sorry, Ms. Abernathy,” He heard Sam apologise to the middle-aged librarian; they were quite familiar with her as they spent a lot of their spare time in the library. “Dust. You know how it is; maybe you should hire someone to do a little cleaning, ey?” He joked. Nathan rolled his eyes open and gave his brother a deadpan look. “I was just taking my brother home; we’ll be back tomorrow. Yes. Yes—thank you, Ms. Abernathy, but I’ll be fine.” At that queue, Nathan stretched his arms and got to his feet as Sam re-shelved the book he was absently holding onto, barely waiting for his brother before skulking out of the library with one hand thrust into his pocket as the other rubbed his eyes irritably.

“Never again.” Sam had a mock innocent look on his face.

“’Never again’, what?” Sam mused idly as he followed his brother, hands also in his pockets. “Never…. Take your advice? Never take me to the library again? Never take YOU to the library again? You told me it wasn’t good to stifle so I didn’t. You were falling asleep so I decided to kill two birds with one stone.” Nathan didn’t respond; whether or not it was a good point, Nathan was still irked that he would do that… he was just thankful it wasn’t somewhere unfamiliar.

“The library? No, I’m never taking you out in PUBLIC again.” Nathan replied dryly; at least they were heading home so he could actually get some sleep this time.

[Red Ring of Death]

I realised that I'm really bad at making these seem scattered. YEAH WELL... I dunno, I have no excuse.

[40.] Knowing How
[Video Game] Uncharted 4
Nathan [M]
Length [991]

[Disclaimer - No actual sneeze. My bad, guys]

 

It was so rare of him to resort to what was normally called “a childish tantrum” but here he was, leaning against the worn wall, teeth clenched as he choked back ragged sobs that caught in hitched breaths, struggling to breathe through the cobweb of phlegm in his throat – his nose was sufficiently blocked up though he thought little of it at the time as he lost control of his emotions. Sound and time and essences of reality seemed to fade or slow down exponentially for just a second as he collapsed in the melodrama around himself, shaking arms clutching themselves and cradling a small spherical object wrapped delicately in a cloth as his back slid down the wall, shirt catching on small irregularities in the stone for fractions of a moment before pulling free, not that he noticed.

It was his fault; he was nearly 20 years old, well old enough to know how these things worked out by now but he still made a mistake, one crucial mistake that was dire enough for them to get caught one of these days. Sure, they had escaped for the time being but he knew that both of them knew better. He couldn’t put his finger on where things started to go south; was it because he sneezed at an inopportune time? His brother knew taking him along was a bad idea but he assumed it was because the elder Drake didn’t think Nathan could handle it; he assumed Sam was just cutting him short, not taking into consideration that Nathan was, well… sick. It happened; it happened to everyone, even Sam (who would never admit it), but maybe the problem was that Nathan didn’t want to admit it, either. It was evident in his sloppy work, too – improper breathing exercises, poorly-timed coughs, sneezes, gurgled sniffles.

It was his head to go along, his poor execution that tripped up security, that insistence on going that resulted in a rip in Sam’s jeans, blood seeping through an open wound on his calf.

“Nathan… Nathan,” Sam’s voice, distant but firm, finally penetrated Nathan’s ‘melodramatic’ breakdown and the latter’s expression wavered upwards until a blurry-eyed gaze found Sam’s figure, half-hanging over the ledge of the wall, a long, strong arm reaching down as far as it could go. “C’mon.” Nathan sniffed again, thickly but futilely as none of the snot went anywhere; couldn’t go back in where his sinuses were already overloaded. A tearful expression was cast downward at the trinket in his paled hands before he clumsily got to his feet and held the item up for Sam to take, keeping his eyes down, not daring to look at Sam after screwing up as badly as he did.

There was a brief pause before he could hear Sam scoff. “No, Nathan, not that. You.” Nathan could feel his jaw tighten under his skin and he finally looked up again to see Sam motioning for Nathan to take his hand. “Leave it. I’ll remember it’s here. Let’s get you home.” Before stopping to think of what else could possibly go wrong whether out of irrational feverish ambition or childish stupidity, He carefully set the sphere down at his feet before making a feeble jump, grabbing for Sam’s hand. Sam was more than accommodating and got a firm hold of Nathan’s arm with a firm grip and helped the younger Drake over the edge, grunting “there we go” before patting him on the back. “You okay?” He asked, gentleness lacing his naturally-savvy tone as he inspected Nathan in a rather motherly fashion. “Oh boy, you’ve seen better days,” He joked with a small laugh. “I don’t usually enforce it but, ah, you gotta take a shower tonight or at least wash your face.” He gave Nathan another encouraging pat on the shoulder before motioning for Nathan to follow him, a faint limp in his stride. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

“…Go home?” Nathan sputtered after standing still enough for Sam to look him over, wiping  the collection of snot and tears and saliva on the arm of his jacket. “We can’t just ‘go home’, we got caught… I got us caught.” He exhaled. “They have a blood trail.” He indicated to Sam’s bleeding leg. “I’m so sorry, I thought—“

“Ah ah, nooo no no no none’a that,” Sam interrupted, putting both his hands on Nathan’s quivering shoulders. “You’re good. All I want you to do is to come home with me, take some medicine, and get some sleep. I’ll go take the thingy back tomorrow, spend a couple nights in jail, be back out in no time.” He explained simply as if it wasn’t a big deal, something Nathan(who had never been to prison) never understood; how could he be so casual about it? “Okay? Can you promise me that?”

There was a long, uncertain pause from Nathan before he nodded with a wet clear of his throat and another useless sniff. “Okay. Okay, yeah, no problem.” Sam gave him his crooked smile and turned to lead the way back home but Nathan hesitated again. “Why are you gonna go by yourself? Why don’t I come along?” He found himself asking. Sam turned on his good leg and for a second, all Nathan could see was silhouette of his brother, tall and proud with a knack for adventure nipping at his heels and the question almost answered itself.

“Sometimes, little brother, it’s just a matter of knowing how to take the losses with the wins,” Sam shrugged, then jerked his head again. “Now come on, let’s go.” Without waiting for Nathan’s approval this time, he turned and carefully lowered himself onto the platform below where they were standing. Nathan blinked, blue eyes dancing on the uneven pavement for a moment as he decided whether he liked that answer or not, and felt some of the tension leave his fevered body as he followed his older brother home.

[Red Ring of Death]

Okay so THIS one has apparently been sitting in my "almost finished" docks since... mid-August of last year. And for some reason, I kept Roadhog and Tracer's "codenames" but I decided to drop Junkrat's and I think it's because Junkrat doesn't really go to lengths to hide his identity like Roadhog and Tracer do so it'd be common between the three of them to call Jamison Jamison but refer to the other two by their nicknames. In any case, that's the explanation I'm using.

Also if this goes against any canon, I DID write this in August before any more canon was established. That being said, I don't thiiiink it goes against any explicitly-stated canon. Also apologies in advance if I make any of them seem out of character. Females, as I'm sure you guys are aware, are NOT my forte. It's a work in progress.

Also god, these are long. LET'S JUST SAY I'M REALLY BAD AT ALL THINGS DRABBLES.
_________________________________________________________

[2.] Complicated
[Video Game] Overwatch
Jamison "Junkrat" Fawkes [M]
Length [1.133]

[Disclaimer - mentions of vomit and just a little bit of blood, nothing explained in detail]

 

“So… What’s going on with him, then?” Was the first question after a lengthy period of awkward silence as Tracer and Roadhog stood together on the stretch of abandoned road somewhere near Route 66, if not ON Route 66; it was hard to tell after a while which places were which after repeatedly going from point to point, location to location doing seemingly the same thing every day.

“…. He’s sick.” Roadhog replied after another pause and even then, the answer rumbled out from through his mask like a boulder being dragged across concrete, splintering the ground with guttural growling. They were referring to the lithe, sun-drenched figure doubled over behind a building, showing the other two only the backside of dirt-stained ripped shorts and a giant, spiked tire that clung to his back on a harness, bobbing slightly as his body was wracked with convulsions  as he presumably vomited behind the structure… the duo weren’t sure.

Tracer put her hands on her hips and shifted her weight to one foot, tilting her head slightly as she looked sideways to the giant man next to her. “Sick with what?” She felt herself asking to break the silence – she knew that as far as conversation went, while Jamison “Junkrat” Fawkes was a chatterbox (albeit a rather annoying one), Roadhog was the complete opposite but she had to occupy herself with something whether it was conversation or movement and right now, they weren’t moving.

They hadn’t even been here for very long – the trio (though Tracer couldn’t imagine why it would be HER paired with the two Junkers and not, say, anyone else) were actually just passing through when there was an acute halt in travel and here they were now. Jamison was very casual about it, all things considering – as if it was completely normal to suddenly veer off the path, excusing oneself to throw up discretely. At least they weren’t under a time constraint or this would be REALLY problematic for Tracer; Jamison and Roadhog were already slow as is… then again, everyone was compared to her.

It didn’t matter, though. They were here now and there wasn’t much Tracer could do about it but she wasn’t about to let this get her down and she kept looking to Roadhog for an answer patiently. The latter fixed his gaze ahead and Tracer liked to pretend that he was contemplating something other than murdering people. “…It’s complicated.” Roadhog grunted at last. Tracer slumped considerably with a small frown, not satisfied with that answer at all.

She was about to respond accordingly when she noticed Roadhog straighten up even more (if that was possible) and she turned her head to see their third member slowly loping back over to them, teeth clenched slightly as one hand was held to his lean stomach tenderly, the other absently knuckling under his nose which somehow seemed even more visibly pink than normal. As he approached the others, his grimace twisted into a pained, toothy grin, the hand on his stomach dropping casually though it still curled against his waist as if tucking in.

“Right, sorry about that.” Tracer felt her eyes widen with what she felt was a mixture of surprise and even a small shred of pity; his normally high-pitched, manic tone seemed to be drowned in a gurgling swamp, fluids clinging to every word he said like slick moss. He sniffed thickly, shaking his head and the grin widened as it tried to suppress the inward feeling of turmoil, upset organs, numb fingers, an acidic aftertaste on his tongue. “Er… where were we going again?” He asked in an attempt to bring his voice back to where it usually rested. Tracer shook herself from feeling too sorry for the man and she pointed in the general direction of their destination.

“We have to go to the rendezvous point and await instructions from 76 there,” She reminded him – people had to remind him of a lot of things, which only grew exasperating sometimes though she felt herself being a little more forgiving considering their circumstances. She cast a quick upward glance to Roadhog before pointing. “Shall we, then—“

She was interrupted again as Roadhog held up a hand briefly, turning his head towards the scrawnier man sharply. There was a pause, a pause that Tracer swore was JUST to irk her. Jamison glanced from the girl to the bodyguard. “…What?” There wasn’t a reply from Roadhog, who just stared down at the younger man with… almost a concrete resolve. He was still, as if waiting for something. Tracer could tell and she was just getting bored.

“Okay, well, you two stay here and I’ll go on ahead—“

If there was one thing she usually didn’t mind, it was getting interrupted – that is, usually she talked fast enough so that she didn’t NEED to get interrupted but it had happened twice over the span of a couple of seconds (she thought – she was generally pretty bad at the whole ‘keeping time’ thing). This time, it was a hissing, sharp “Hz’itchh!” She wouldn’t have thought much of it except that it seemed to shake Jamison from his bony core, rattling his skeletal structure as his entire torso curled into himself to catch the sneeze, which sounded not unlike a train giving off steam, now that Tracer thought about it. And yet, it sounded painful, like trying to scrape out the rest of the sugar that clung to the bottom of a tin.

The sneeze was followed by an instinctual, almost doglike shake of Jamison’s head – sometimes Tracer really wasn’t sure how much of Jamison was man and how much was animal – and a nonchalant wipe of his nose(which… should someone tell him that there was blood?), but nothing that acknowledged it otherwise; it was there, then it wasn’t, out of the Junkrat’s mind.

“Now we can go.” Roadhog’s guttural growl punctured Tracer’s distracted interpretations on how to react to all of this so she accepted the instruction gladly and just… turned on a heel to lead the way again. She might’ve been doing it subconsciously but she placed a little bit of space between herself and the two Junkers though she could pick up their conversation, or at least Jamison’s half – Roadhog was surprisingly quiet when talking to him and only him.

“…What? No, I don’t!” Pause. “Really? … Every time? You’re pullin’ my leg.” Pause. “…do YOU do that after YOU blow chunks? …YES it’s… what’s that word again? Oh, Never mind.” Longer pause. “Well why didn’t ya say something sooner?” Pause.“Next time, just maybe somthin’ like ‘oi Jamie, y’got blood comin’ out your nose’, right.” Pause. “Yeah, well…. Thanks anyway.”

Uuuuuugh, they were so weird. Tracer would have to make this mental note for any future excursions.  ‘It’s complicated.’

[SweaterWeather]

Okay, so, um, you already know how much I love these latest updates. BUT I wonder if you know just HOW much I loved both of them. 

First of all, baby!Nate Drake with big brother Sam, you've already got me wrapped around your finger there. I mean seriously, the weepy, self-loathing, 'it's all my fault' guilt ridden-ness??? Um, I live for this kind of inner struggle! And on top of that, not only being sick as a dog - and oh goodness, crying while sick is literally the most arduous, drawn-out process, my heart aches for him if it wasn't fluttering because of it heh, but his sickness being the REASON they got caught?! 

Yeah, yeah I'm pretty much melted at this point. Somebody bring a mop and bucket, pleaseandthanks. Also those last two paragraphs were just so chock-full of brotherly connection that my heart's grown about three sizes and just burst through my rib cage. (Damn it, you KNOW how these brothers Drake get to me, dude! You KNOW!)

And then there's Jamie. Sweet, violently ill, bloody mucus Jamie. My poor junker just can't catch a break can he. Honestly this was so golden thanks in part to it being from Tracer's POV - she's just so "???" through it all, watching while Roadhog and Jamie have this understanding between them and it's really... It's like watching through a glass fishbowl, not really getting what and why it's happening but, at the same time just, 'okay yeah this is the reality gotta keep on truckin' but MAN are they weird' sort of deal. 

Also this: 

9 hours ago, Red Ring of Death said:

This time, it was a hissing, sharp “Hz’itchh!” She wouldn’t have thought much of it except that it seemed to shake Jamison from his bony core, rattling his skeletal structure as his entire torso curled into himself to catch the sneeze, which sounded not unlike a train giving off steam, now that Tracer thought about it. And yet, it sounded painful, like trying to scrape out the rest of the sugar that clung to the bottom of a tin.

Um. I never thought that describing a sneeze and sugar tins could fit so well together. You have made miracles today. And the entire one-sided from Tracer's hearing conversation with Roadhog at the end was just hilarious. Honestly, sporadic, frequent, once every year, I'm here for these delectable drabbles dude. Spectacular work! 

[Red Ring of Death]

Grey, you spoil me~
____________________________________

[99.] Friendship
[Video Game] Overwatch
Jack Morrison [M]
Length [937]

 

“Step aside, please.”

She didn’t hear the Strike Commander say that often, as people usually knew better and cleared the way for him but that wasn’t the case today, not this time.

“…No.”

Jack’s forehead, shining faintly with sweat, twitched as if considering going into a furrowed brow but never quite made it. She could see some sort of emotion flickering through his watery blue eyes, almost like a shimmer on the surface of a rippling ocean; she guessed it was a mixture of tiredness, a little bit of confusion and what might be the onset of a sort of irritation. It was understandable but she was adamant in her stance this time.

“Did I say please last time?” He asked, voice coming out in an even quieter growl than usual as he broke his stare into her rich brown eyes, falling to her lips that had the ghost of a smile tugging on one of the corners. It was as if he knew that would coax the smile onto her face, accompanied with a small scoff. “Please move?”

“Jack,” Ana’s smile faltered ever-so-slightly and she bit her lower lip. “Yes, you said please last time.” She admitted; it probably didn’t help his case but she wouldn’t mention it, at least not until she felt like she’d need to. “But no, I’m not stepping aside until you just… slow down and go get some rest.” She put her instruction on the table. “Angela says your biological scans are spiking, you look… bad.” She hated telling him that sincerely but she was hoping that he would take her word for it. “So I can step aside if you do that, at least for… a day.” She was quick to react as Jack shifted weight to his other foot with a visible sigh, putting one hand on his chest while the other rested its palm on his jawline – he was clammy, which just affirmed what she was saying. “Just a day, Jack, just a day.” She felt the need to repeat as his head tilted down to the floor, assuring and gentle in her tone. “Please?” It was her turn to ask this time.

He gave her a lengthy silence, which gave her another chance to note how handsome he was, usually; sparkling blue eyes, rich, yet feathery blond hair, angled jaw, charming personality. Usually so handsome, now looking gaunt and almost spectral with exaggerated features, tired eyes, covered in perspiration as he sported a fever. It was astounding how he looked so unwell yet he still sounded the same as how he sounded when he was at the peak of health. Ana felt the muscles in his jaw move as he slowly opened his mouth, pausing for another short moment before breaking their silence. “I can’t do that.”

Well, that’s not what she wanted to hear. She was patient, though. “What if I can… persuade you to go to bed?” She asked, knowing he’d take the bait and she slowly moved her index finger across his face before resting on his chin. Unsurprisingly to her, all he did was quirk an eyebrow; she knew this wasn’t sexual, HE knew this wasn’t sexual, so what the hell was it? Well, that was the goal, wasn’t it; to be tempting and almost challenging.

“…What’d you have in mind?” He fell for the bait and she gave him an intense, but well-meaning stare that lasted for only a few seconds, warm nurturing meeting icy leadership. In a small but swift motion, her hand was removed from his face and she flicked the end of his perfect nose; though it came from a good place, it was still sharp and he recoiled. “Ana, what the hell—‘TSzhh! Hh... hhh’Tshnh! That’s not f-fair—‘Shzhh!”

As she predicted, it was a quick reaction from a quick movement. She wondered why he thought she couldn’t have him figured out by this point; she found him amusingly predictable – and their shared knowledge told them that firstly, he always sneezed in pairs and secondly, he never sneezed unless he was sick; “super soldier training” or whatever it was they pumped into him, couldn’t keep him from getting sick now and then, especially going through several temperature extremes. Even then, they couldn’t really be called sneezes; they still seemed suppressed but forceful, like a waterfall of granules filling a plastic bin, sifting as they settled into place before the sound gently trailed off.

“I win.” She was so confident as he gave him a triumphant but earnest stare, her lower eyelids lifting into a half-squint as she challenged him to relinquish. Her glance was exchanged with one from him that looked almost betrayed, as if asking ‘why would you do that to me’ though he knew why she did that to him… and why he didn’t actually ask. Instead, a dry chuckle scraped past his thin lips and he gave a defeated nod.

“You win.” He agreed before lifting a hand. “Just… please don’t tell anyone about this.” He added with a little timidity lacing his quiet voice. She nodded, thick black hair bobbing faintly.

“Of course. I always cover for you.” She assured as she finally stepped aside. He bowed his head and passed her, his strong hand lingering on her shoulder gently as he did. “Bless you,” She murmured with a covert smile. He rolled his eyes with a half-grin and shook his head but as her eyes followed his back, still keeping his posture tall though inside he was burning and reeling, she saw him stop short and dip his head into one of his elbows to complete the pair.

[Winged]

Oh my gosh baby Nathan ;__; I get so many feels when I'm watching/playing the segments of the game where Nathan's still in the orphanage and he's so scared that Sam is going to ditch him for the job elsewhere, so you hit right in the heart. You have such a lovely way with words too, the tone of that little drabble was really effective.

[jano]

God, thank you so much for directing my attention to this drabble thread!! I totally forgot I even commented on the Unappreciated Fandom requests thread lol. The Soldier 76 one was sooo nice... Something about gruff men being felled by a cold is amazing...

And now I'm off to read the rest. Your writing is so deliciously detailed, probably some of my favorite writing on this forum .... ?! I'd type more but I just woke up

[Red Ring of Death]

A. Thanks you guys for all the feedback! I'll keep trying my best -salute- B. I can't believe I have two Gladio drabbles in the works and instead I pump out a MacCready one in like half an hour. Ambition, what's that. C. I don't have a third point but I like to feel important and organized to have a point C. Oh, also I apologise for the mood whiplash in this one... if there is any. I think my mind was vying for control over which direction to go in. Also I know it's not smart or good English but I notice that I have a tendency to make run-on sentences sometimes soooo I'm smarter than I let on in my writing sometimes, I promise.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________

[55.] Separation
[Video Game] Fallout 4
RJ MacCready [M]
Length [1.054]
 

‘Gaaaah okay okay don’t panic dammit, you’re 22 years old, you’re too old to panic’—Not that it helped as MacCready’s blue eyes darted around in the black murk that surrounded him, unable to discern anything as it all blended together, plunged into an inky fog that swallowed him as he found himself separated from the Sole Survivor.

This wasn’t a common occurrence – well, both getting separated and finding himself starting to freak out. Clutching his sniper rifle close to his pounding chest as if afraid someone would come along and rip it from his wiry, calloused hands, he was both intensely dedicated to getting himself out of the darkness and genuinely worried that his absence would give way to something terrible happening, things he didn’t have to feel for several weeks… maybe even months, he almost couldn’t remember the date they met.

 It was a long, meticulous relationship that started with a piece of string and 250 bottle caps, red string that slowly wound itself around fingertips, adding more threads over time, gradually weaving around his soul as he was pulled closer to her, bottle caps falling out of the tangles that had once been knotted so tightly in his stomach; knots that were given time and attention by a random stranger wearing a funny blue suit who just happened to stumble into the Third Rail that day.

He decided, under the surface, that he should probably start looking for a way out; standing there holding his rifle trying to find shapes and items in the void wasn’t doing much good to himself or to her. Was she looking for him? Did she reciprocate the bond he felt growing between them? It wasn’t even love, he knew that; the Sole Survivor was a companion and dear friend, one that he would take a bullet for, and that was a pretty big deal coming from him.

So he had to move forward—but no way, Jose. Nothing doing. So, of course, he started backing up; it was more logical after all… he could see incoming danger that way, right? Unless he backed into, he didn’t know, a radscorpion… iinnnn the basement of an abandoned mall. Psht, what were the odds of that happening? As he mentally talked himself down from the panic that was bubbling in his gut, he continued to back up slowly, each step feeling like the rubber soles of his boots were trying to melt into the debris-littered concrete floor; or he just stepped in a lotta gum. Gum was good, he remembered liking gum. What was the brand name again?

…He couldn’t remember. Well, that was okay, he could remember the brand names of other things—Ow, there’s a bookshelf there—OW that’s a BOOK OR THREE on his head. “Sunova--!” He cursed aloud, tensing his shoulders and rubbing his head under the worn green hat as the dead silence was suddenly interrupted by a dull pain in his backside and a much sharper pain on his head as he collided with a rickety old bookshelf, toppling a stack that precariously sat on the edge of one of the upper shelves. They weren’t even, like, old comic books either, fluttering down like leaves; they felt like bricks as they crumbled on top of him all at once, splashing him with old paper and dirt and dust—dammit--

“Uhc’Tuu!” Unconventional, perhaps; more of a cough than a sneeze, primarily falling out of his mouth like someone banged a heavy, empty pot against the kitchen sink to shake off the excess water. MacCready sniffled with a cough, moving his hand from his head to waving the air in front of him as he grimaced; hopefully that didn’t alert any enemies ‘cuz that would just be swell if any of what just happened cost him… his life. He sniffed again and felt his breath hitching for another sneeze but he rammed his wrist into his face with so much passion that he grunted with pain as the bones in his hand smashed into the cartilage of his nose. Good, okay, pain took away from the need to sneeze--

And then the door that he didn’t know was seven feet in front of him was starting to open. Peachy keen, complete with blurry-eyed vision and perfectly off-guard. Take him now, he was ready; he didn’t fear death—wait. However, as he tensed up and almost dared not to breathe, keeping said blurry-eyed vision on the sounds in front of him, he heard a very familiar voice from through the door. “Don’t shoot, it’s me!” She called. Not a moment later, the door swung open and the light from a glowing pip-boy bathed the room in dim green hue, which was much more light than there was previously.

And through the tearing eyes, MacCready saw her. He reacted accordingly. “You scared the shi—er… crap outta me!” He exclaimed, voice coming through his sleeve somewhat muffled. “I thought you were a super mutant or somethin’!”

The Sole Survivor gave a small shrug. “Sorry to disappoint, it’s just me.” She replied with a small, cocky grin. “I thought YOU were a ghoul at first, then I heard you sneeze so… good idea.” She added, noting the particles of dust that were illuminated by her pip-boy and the ruined books at his feet.

“It wasn’t on purpose,” he retorted, having relaxed considerably since seeing her silhouette against the doorway; he hated her confidence but also loved it. And he wouldn’t have admitted it to her but seeing her again was a huge relief for him, which was more than what could be said about his now-irritated sinuses.

“Eh, well, it helped me find you so I call that a win.” She went over to him and gave him a sturdy pat on the shoulder, her brow furrowing slightly as another small cloud of dust bloomed. “…You get into a fight with a dust bunny?” She teased, her own eyes on the cloud.

Nope, uh-uh, too strong, too in his face—“Hh hc’Tuuh! -snf- Ha ha, you’re so funny I forgot how to laugh.” He gurgled wetly. Last time, they got separated on accident; he only hoped it wouldn’t happen again on purpose if he couldn’t get his crap under control.

He doubted it. She wouldn’t do that to him. He knew better and even to himself, he couldn't help but smile.

[Winged]

Your imagery is always so physical and descriptive, I love it. For examples:

5 hours ago, Red Ring of Death said:

“Uhc’Tuu!” Unconventional, perhaps; more of a cough than a sneeze, primarily falling out of his mouth like someone banged a heavy, empty pot against the kitchen sink to shake off the excess water.

 

5 hours ago, Red Ring of Death said:

He sniffed again and felt his breath hitching for another sneeze but he rammed his wrist into his face with so much passion that he grunted with pain as the bones in his hand smashed into the cartilage of his nose.

I loved these a lot! I'm not even familiar with the fandom but the characters are so clear even in this short drabble that I got a great feel for things.

[Red Ring of Death]

I'm ace at this whole "do numbered themes from different sections of ten" thing, as you can tell.
____________________________________

[59.] Challenged
[Video Game] Final Fantasy XV
Gladiolus Amicitia [M]
Length [786]
 

Gladiolus furrowed his brow ever-so-slightly as he slooowly leaned away from Prompto, who was starting to intrude on the former’s space with an obnoxious look on his freckled face, blue eyes darting all over Gladio’s figure as if trying to find something to comment on. It wasn’t hard given that the four of them were soaked through to the bone as they stood around idly watching Noctis fish for the umpteenth time that week, Gladiolus in particular looking faintly miserable – something that wasn’t noticeable to the uneducated eye but much more obvious given how the four had been on the road long enough to know each other by this point.

“Can you not?” Gladiolus finally growled out of the corner of his mouth, giving the rippling water with his full attention, almost as if trying not to give Prompto the satisfaction of exchanging glances. The young blond didn’t reply at first but kept his eyes on Gladio keenly though he was still leaning forward; it was the stance of someone who knew what he could get away with, someone who had a shred of confidence in this one instance. Gladiolus’ jaw tightened as he gritted his teeth and finally tore his gaze away from the water, shooting Ignis a quick glare as if to say ‘I’m about to rip this kid’s head off’.

It wasn’t until Gladiolus shifted his eyes that Prompto decided to speak up. “You look like you’re about to sneeze again.” And, almost like a robot scanning a target, Gladiolus’ amber eyes snapped to Prompto’s youthful, playful expression.

“You look like you’re about to get a bloody nose.” Like thunder rolling across the plains, Gladiolus’ voice rumbled out deep and guttural, a snarl accompanying the threat that didn’t try to hide behind casual banter this time. Prompto leaned back to a natural position, away from so close to Gladiolus’ face, a devilishly curious expression still present on his face. He also cast a quick glance to Ignis before looking up in mock contemplation.

“I’m just sayin’; no need to be hostile, big guy.” He replied with a small shrug. “Hmmmm 100 gil says you will.” It was almost unfair making that wager; the four of them knew that Gladiolus was particularly susceptible to the rain for some reason – Gladiolus, conductor of raw power and strength, protecting others with every ounce of his being, supposedly made of titanium and obsidian, reduced to a rusted tin soldier when caught in the rain. It was only temporary, of course, but someone else mentioning it still made the swordsman’s blood boil in a special way, partially because he wasn’t one to admit weakness and partially because Prompto knew that he wasn’t gonna back down from a challenge.

The taller man kept his sharp eyes on the roguish trickster, nostrils flaring subconsciously before a small flash of another snarl bared his teeth, only visible if you were paying attention before it twisted into a dry half-smile. “Fine. Better get your money ready.” All talk, but they both knew; hell, all four of them knew as they stood in the rain, watching Noctis fish with laid-back but earnest dedication.

To no one’s surprise, it didn’t take long. As Gladiolus steeled himself against the rain, Prompto staring up at him with a quirked eyebrow and bated breath, the wind took that opportunity to change course and that threw Gladio off his, sending a shiver through his body, starting with the base of his spine and working its way up seemingly instantaneously until it settled in his nose; sharp but like a cat’s claw poking the skin – mostly just resulting in itching.

Instinctively, he dipped his head into his elbow as Prompto already started to lean back in triumph. “Uh’schu!” The sneeze was over and done with, surprisingly soft coming from a big guy like Gladio, though it turned into a growl as he sniffed and reached into one of his pockets, fishing out two round coins with holes punched in the center. “All right, all right, you win this one.” He admitted begrudgingly as the cheerfully annoying photographer took the coins with a gleeful dance, clearly reveling in his minute victory.

“I think it’s less that he won,” Ignis finally chimed in, looking sideways at the other two dryly. “And more like you lost.” Gladiolus shot the bespectacled man a short, sharp glare.

“It won’t happen again,” He insisted though the rain chewing on his skin begged to differ.

“You wanna bet?” Prompto asked smartly after concluding his dance and stuffing the coins into his pocket. Gladiolus contemplated for a moment. ‘Say no, don’t do it, not worth it you’re gonna lose—‘

“Hell yeah.”

All Ignis could do was sigh.

[LeapYearKisses]

Oh my God, Gladio you idiot. XD  This was so funny, and very in character!  (I think.  I watched an LP of the game and haven't played it myself yet.  But I thought was in character!)

[TrapRose]

This has made my day! I absolutely adore sneezy (but reluctantly so) Gladio, and Prompto edging him on is wonderfully in character. Thank you so much for this!

[Geist]

Gladio is my boy.  This was wonderful!

[Snapdragon]

Aaa, this is great! Gladio's sneezes and grumpiness are so endearing, I can't blame Prompto for being a tease :')

[Red Ring of Death]

Whoo. Been awhile, innit. Muses are weeeird.

Yo shoutout to my homie Grey for being, like, the only person willing to talk to me about Batman! -thumbs up- [for the record, if anyone else wants to hit me up and discuss/RP Batman... -points to PM- You know where to find me] Also glad to see the Gladio drabble get positive reception! I'll have to do more of that.
___________________________________________________________

[49.] Umbrella
[Video Game] Batman: The Telltale Series
Oswald "Oz" Cobblepot [M]
Length [617]
 

“…Okay.” Bruce relinquished , lowering his head in defeat as he held up his hands mildly in surrender. He took a step back, backing down from the argument and Oswald gave a haughty sniff accompanied with the ghost of a sneer as he popped his neck, turning away from his old friend.

“Good.” The reply slid out from between his teeth in a shudder, shaking his head with another, decidedly less haughty sniff this time as he popped the collar of his dark, tattered duster. Bloody hell, was it cold. He cast a glance upward, craning his neck slightly to see more of the black sky from under the overhang the duo sought for temporary shelter against the torrential downpour. “…How long ‘til Alfred brings the car ‘round, eh?” He muttered, looking back down as he turned slightly, addressing Bruce.

The latter, who had since put his hands in his pockets and took this time to turn his own icy blue eyes skyward, gave a noncommittal shrug. “I wouldn’t think it mattered,” He replied smoothly, smoother than Oswald was anticipating and the scrawnier man turned sharply to give Bruce’s back a narrow-eyed glare. “He’ll be here when he gets here.” Bruce turned, ever the enigmatic chess-master in every situation; Oswald hated it. “You JUST said you were fine. You can wait a few more minutes, right?”

For some reason, with the way Bruce asked, daggers lacing his saccharinely cheerful tone, Oswald chose to feel personally offended and scoffed as nonchalantly as he could, which was a little easier said than done considering he was already frazzled and caught off-guard by Bruce’s masterful ability to sound structurally perfect, an impenetrable fortress of grey brick, smooth to the touch with no weakness for Oz to get under and start dismantling. Casually, digging himself deeper, he started to meander until he was standing in the rain once more as if to prove a point. “I mean, yeah. Rain isn’t new to me.” He fell silent rather prematurely, as if he was intending on saying more but no more came out. Bruce quirked an eyebrow and glanced over at Oswald, who now had his back turned towards Bruce as a hand went up to his face.

A pause, a tensing of his shoulders and a bob of his head accompanied with the sound of tin foil being ripped from the box quickly, just loud enough for Bruce to know exactly what it was even through the heavy rain. With a quiet sigh, Bruce rolled his eyes and pulled out a large black umbrella and popped it open carefully before approaching Oz and holding it over him. The skinnier man, still facing away, looked up and his shoulders drooped visibly. “You had an umbrella this whole bloody time?” He asked through his teeth.

“As it turns out, I did.” Bruce could feel a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth; part of him had actually forgotten but he remembered quickly enough that this COULD’VE potentially been avoided. However… he wasn’t above teaching Oz some hard-learned lesson about listening and he held the handle out far enough for Oswald to see in a way that could’ve been bragging or told-you-so. “Wanna use it?” Oswald’s venomous expression glanced over his shoulder at Bruce briefly before snatching the umbrella from him and skulking some ten feet away as if not wanting to have anything to do with anyone. Bruce took a few steps back under the overhang and simply shook his head as he watched his pathetic friend, now appearing even smaller under the big black umbrella, smother two more sneezes into the crook of a lean arm.

Maybe he’d let him keep the umbrella.

[Anonymouse]

Oswald. <3 I wouldn't mind seeing more of him. 

[SweaterWeather]

Okay so, um, yeah. Oz. Ozzy. Oz-boyo...

You just know how to turn all the knobs expertly when it comes to your writing, but especially when it comes to OSWALD FUCKING COBBLEPOT! I literally couldn't stop replaying the scene in my head after the first time I read this; seriously, where is the flashback in the game where I can play this out? With chess-master Bruce being amazingly smug but also sweet in perfect amounts? I'ma call TTG up and let 'em know, mkay? Mkay. 

And again, I'm still absolutely nuts about your sneeze descriptions - it opens up this new avenue of sounds that a sneeze could replicate, and??? IDK WHAT it is but, ghhhh it just makes me so happy. Also I keep imagining height differences and Oz just being so much smaller while fuming because he KNOWS HE CAN'T WIN WITH BRUCE IT'S JUST A THING, LIVE WITH IT, STOP BEING A PUNK AND ACCEPT HELP FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE PLEASE??? Ugh. Okay yeah, I think I'm good. I mean you know the extent of my feelings for Oz, and Bruce, and just them in general so, of course I could prattle on and on but, I'll spare the comments section. 

Seriously I am unworthy and you are the best