in which i finally got around to finishing that deokdam angst
gooooo read it here (or yk click the big words with the title that works too)
this one's been sitting around for uh. well actually i don't wanna talk about it. life happened. i'm back now. for how long? no idea. we'll see. comments feed my ego and motivation though so if you want me to write more feel free to leave me one (or don't. you can make me cry too that's fine)
ruination might be over but the pain sure isn't :)
if you are still taking requests from the prompt list; 49, faker and deft
Unlike a certain someone, Deft is minding his own damn business as he types a quick response to Showmaker's latest meme (seriously, where is he getting these?) and sets his phone down on the table to fiddle with his crossbow instead. It's only a few minutes before his showmatch against Faker, and to say that he's nervous would be an understatement. After all, it's Faker, and considering the outcome of their battle on the Rift just last month, Deft wouldn't blame him if he's out for revenge. Deft forces himself to shut his eyes and take a deep breath to calm his nerves. He lets it out slowly, letting the tension ease from his shoulders—
"Am I your lock screen?"
Deft's eyes fly open, and he sits up from the couch to find Faker standing in front of him with the marksman's phone in his hand. He feels his heart sink so far down that he wouldn't be surprised if it fell out of his ass. "You weren't supposed to see that," he mutters, pointedly looking away from the picture on the screen that Faker holds out to him.
Faker just smirks. "Wow, even the great Deft is a fanboy of the Unkillable Demon King? I can't believe I got beaten by a fan," he says playfully, almost completely masking the bitterness lying beneath.
"I lost a bet," Deft grits out, mentally cursing out Keria for being such an evil genius (not to be confused with the NA guild). Well, not really. He would never do such a thing, no matter how tempting it feels at the moment. His response only makes Faker laugh as the mid laner turns the phone around to look at it again.
"Whatever you say," Faker says once he finishes laughing, amusement still written across his face. He finally hands the phone back to Deft with a shake of his head.
Deft practically scrambles to take it back, holding it protectively with both hands as he unlocks it to send a frantic message to Keria.
DK Deft: if I lose it's your fault
T1 Keria is typing...
He doesn't get the chance to read Keria's response (assuming there is one), because at that moment, a bell rings somewhere just outside the door. Deft straightens a little at the sound, reaching for his crossbow. It's match time.
His face still burning with shame, Deft follows Faker out towards the arena. Their match hasn't even started, and yet, he feels like he's already lost.
—
dodged a bullet considering #50 was "I can't keep kissing strangers and pretending that they're you."
what's that? a finished fic? in ppau? MORE LIKELY THAN YOU THINK
@livikattt and aryasage are proud to present we’ll take up arms, we’ll make amends here, a fic detailing just how much of an idiot scout is (you know, in case you didn't know that already), and how he makes up for it, featuring showmaker and meiko, crack, and fluff! (in more ways than one)
greetings fools. i have emerged from my prison of negative motivation thanks to the help of a certain someone. anyway
@aryasage and livikattt are proud to present those you left behind, a fic about keria and meiko (and deft) that came from arya's incredible ideas as always. this time we have zero pov switching. incredible!
thanks arya for doing this with me! or. well. you were the one who got me to do this. and continued to get me to do this. because i am a slug and cannot write consistently without help. so thank u :)
yes it should be phel theme not diana theme. it's still lunari and i'm running out of titles from phel theme. sue me.
if i could make this hit 1k it would probably go into the oneshots that didn't fit into atcybyna but i wanted to post SOME content in the next decade so here you all go (it could still probably hit 1k after going back and revising it as this thing is a mess and a half but again. wanted to get content out. it's definitely because i'm generous and not because i couldn't be bothered to proofread. yep.) a different version of this might end up being actually posted at some point, but for now, have this
this is set during tncfl, an exchange between deokdam and viper. no graphic depictions of anything but vague mentions of abuse, violence, all your standard viper backstory stuff. oh and also religion because i find fantasy religion really fun to explore so it ended up taking up a lot of this little piece. anyway keep reading for some actual writing for once :)
You’re…like me? Deokdam asks hesitantly upon hearing Viper’s voice, so similar to his own yet so much rougher, full of pain buried deep down.
Am I? Viper responds, poison in his voice threatening to spill over. You had a choice, didn’t you?
Deokdam is taken aback by the question. What do you mean?
The moon’s gifts, Viper says bluntly. You wanted them, didn’t you?
I—of course. it was an honour to receive her blessing, Deokdam says, unsure of where Viper’s going with this.
Did you— Viper stops, taking a deep breath before continuing. Could you have said no, if you didn’t want them?
I mean—why would I? I knew what I was getting into, had prepared for it my whole life. Didn’t you?
Viper scoffs, and his support looks over at him, but Viper waves him off before addressing the other ADC again, avoiding eye contact. Yeah, no. I’m not like you.
What do you—
I didn’t know what I was getting into. I didn’t get a choice, didn’t have an opportunity to say no—and I tried. You drink noctum willingly—imagine it’s forced down your throat with no idea what’s happening. Then you have to keep taking it just to keep yourself alive.
Deokdam stares at him, horrified. Why would anyone— The ceremony, the ritual, the acceptance—that’s the most important part. Not the gifts themselves. It’s—willingly making that sacrifice—that’s the entire point—
Viper sighs. Not everyone in our faith had the same idea. Some were too focused on their…objectives to care about what they had to do to get to them. What was one person, in the grand scheme of things? The individual doesn’t matter, after all.
Only its role, Deokdam finishes out of habit. But wait, that’s not what it’s supposed to mean—
I know that. Pretty sure they did too. Just chose to ignore it in favour of their agenda. It was all in her name, after all. How could she disapprove?
And what, exactly, was the agenda that justified them doing that? Deokdam asks, but he’s not entirely sure he wants to know the answer.
Viper doesn’t answer the question, asking his own instead. You prepared for it your whole life, right? But what kind of preparation was that? Training? Practise? Viper looks away, his next words quieter, yet they echo in Deokdam’s mind louder than ever. You learn a lot faster when your life depends on it. In real battles. Especially when you’re not protected by any Guild’s magical guarantee. He takes another deep breath, exhaling slowly before finally answering the question that Deokdam asked. As for their ideals, well…I don’t know how much of what they said was true. But they must have been at least somewhat right, because it’s definitely true that there are some that aren’t so…approving of our faith.
Her sister’s followers…Deokdam responds quietly. I thought they swore to stop centuries ago.
Maybe some did. Like your guild’s old support, I imagine. But there are always exceptions. Where do you think this came from, after all? Viper asks, subtly indicating the scar on his face. It’s silvery, just like the few scars that Deokdam has, the telltale sign of being healed with one of the moon’s weapons. But the edges are rough, almost like a blade set alight had carved into skin—oh. Sunfire? That can’t be right, it must just be something like it—
Viper nods, almost imperceptibly.
I’m so sorry—
Viper cuts him off. I don’t need your pity, he says, scowling and turning his head away from Deokdam.
It’s not pity! I—I got enough of that with my first Guild. None of them understood that I wouldn’t give up my gifts for anything no matter how much the noctum hurts, and I can’t even imagine how it would be for you—there’s a reason I stopped trying to explain them to my new teammates. He sighs before continuing. I’m sorry that you never got to accept your gifts, never got to prepare yourself for any of it. It’s not fair that I did and you didn’t, and I wanted to apologise for that. It shouldn’t have been like that.
It’s not your fault. You don’t need to apologise. Besides, it’s not like they could keep their hold on me forever, Viper says, smirking. I got my gifts, but they don’t get their champion. Not anymore. I won, in the end.
They both fall silent before Viper finally asks a question softly. What was it like for you?
What do you mean?
What should it have been like for me?
Oh. Deokdam’s tried explaining to people who didn’t understand before. It’s never ended well. But with Viper, well, he’s all too happy to share. He at least owes his fellow marksman that much, and as he begins to describe the details of the night when he accepted his gifts, Viper listens, taking in every word.
users aryasage and space-axolotl may have their fancy dark modes but I sure as hell don't. anyway here's something I'm writing for SOME REASON because my brain refuses to focus on writing things I tell it to. welcome to McDonald's fic... part 2. [electric boogaloo] [McDonald's sold separately]
Showmaker is going to lose his mind.
“One day,” he mutters into his hands, rubbing his eyes as if it’ll make the person in front of him go away, “I’m going to kill you.”
Like the absolute pain in the ass he is, Scout just shrugs. “If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it already. You’ve had plenty of chances.” He’s not wrong, but Showmaker pulls his head out of his hands to glare at him anyway.
“Don’t push your luck,” he says, forcing himself to sit up in his chair. He gives Scout his most unimpressed stare. One hand slips into his pocket to pull out his cards, more out of habit than anything. He’s not actually going to use his Destiny/Gate card to drop Scout in the middle of nowhere (probably), but the idea at least calms him down a little.
“Me? Never,” Scout says with that stupid grin still on his face. As if he isn’t constantly living by the motto fuck around and find out. As if he’s not on the brink of dying from sleep deprivation again. Seriously, how does this guy never learn his lesson?
