n3m3sis43: ((FMAB) Huuuughes and Winryyyy)
Randall shifted in his seat as the door swung open, noiseless on its well-oiled hinges. He leaned forward, the muscles in his broad back bunching. The solid oak chair beneath him didn’t creak in response to the movement. Under most circumstances, this would have pleased him; he seldom encountered furniture sturdy enough to support his bulk without complaint.

Now, however, it brought him no comfort.

The silence ate at him. It hung unbroken, tense as a held breath, as Devin stepped inside. The door made no sound when it closed behind him, nor did his boots as he crossed the room in slow, supple strides. He came to a stop only inches away, folding his lean arms over his chest.

He cocked his head to one side, the motion almost imperceptible. His golden eyes swept over Randall, studying him with clinical indifference. They held no trace of the sweet, unassuming boy he’d once known. Randall swallowed hard, his throat thick. “Devin, I --”

“Don’t.”

The words died on Randall’s lips, and a sense of unreality washed over him. Over a year had passed since he’d last seen Devin, but his lithe frame and exquisite features remained the same as Randall remembered them. Still, Randall felt as though a stranger stood before him.

He waited for what seemed like hours, an unpleasant pressure building behind his breastbone. Devin didn’t move; his face showed no sign of emotion. At last, Randall could hold out no longer, and opened his mouth to speak once more. Uncrossing his arms, Devin raised a hand.

Invisible fingers wrapped themselves around Randall’s neck. He uttered a strangled cry, unable to take in air. Devin looked on, his expression impassive. After a long moment, the squeezing sensation abated. Randall slumped in his seat, gasping. His vocal cords spasmed.

“Said ‘don’t,’ didn’t I?” Devin said, his tone even.

Randall nodded, feeling dazed. When his breathing had returned to its normal rate, he forced himself to sit up straight. He met Devin’s eyes, now wide and a bit unfocused. His features had softened, and for the first time since he’d entered the room, they betrayed a hint of his old innocence. Devin blinked once, his jaw tightening, and his gaze became stony.

“Tell me what happened to Eric,” he said.

His fingers numb, Randall massaged his swollen throat. The boss had shown him footage of the incident, much of it from Devin's neuro feed. Randall recalled with perfect clarity the taste of soot-choked air, the heat of melting sneaker soles beneath his feet. He'd watched, transfixed, through Devin's eyes as Eric's house collapsed. Flames licked its broken bones, the same brilliant blue as the fire that often flowed from Devin's fingertips when he'd trained on Ward Zero.

“‘Swrong, don’t wanna talk anymore?” Devin asked, his voice low and honeyed. With a single step, he closed the gap between them. “Seemed pretty fucking chatty a minute ago.”

Randall chewed at the inside of his cheek. “I… don’t know what happened to Eric.”

Invisible hands took hold of Randall’s wrists, grinding bone against bone. Pain shot through his brawny arms, white-hot and sickening. The smell of singed hair assaulted his nostrils. His heart stuttered in his chest and his whole body ached from the inside out. He opened his eyes, wondering when he’d closed them. Devin stood on the opposite end of the room, a large wooden chair in front of him.

Randall blinked; he’d been sitting in that same chair only an instant ago.

A wave of exhaustion crashed over him. He sagged against the wall behind him, struggling to make sense of the situation. All his muscles twitched at once, and he became aware of an odd tingling in his extremities. Randall jolted upright as the pieces of the puzzle slid together.

He recognized this feeling.

It had taken almost a week to subside, after the night of the storm. He remembered the flash of lightning, the shock of a sudden impact between his shoulder blades. His arms had trembled as the current coursed through them, shooting out of their own volition and thrusting Devin away --

Cool fingers brushed Randall’s forehead. He shrank from the touch, his thoughts returning to the present. Devin hovered over him, brow furrowed and lower lip caught between his teeth. The air between them crackled, and Devin averted his gaze. Devin stared down at his hand, a visible tremor running through him, and settled himself on the floor in front of Randall.

Randall dragged in a deep breath. “You… didn’t know you were going to do that, did you?”

“Doesn’t matter, does it?” Devin drew his knees up, hugging them to his chest.

Time doubled back on itself, five years falling away in an instant, and Randall saw a glimmer of the boy he’d once sworn to protect. Randall hunched over, the weight of his failure bowing his spine. He longed to reach for Devin, to pull him close and whisper soothing words into his hair. Randall quashed the impulse, folding his hands in his lap. “It matters to me.”

“That s’posed to make me feel better?” Devin spat, his fine features contorting. “Don’t give a fuck what matters to you. Just wanna know what happened to Eric, and you --” His voice cracked and he curled in on himself, tears glistening like dew on his dark lashes. “Won’t fucking tell me that.”

“I can’t tell you.” Randall licked his lips, resisting the urge to kiss Devin’s tears away. “I don’t know anything, and even if I did, what good would it do to tell you? It wouldn’t bring him back.”

Devin flinched as though he’d been slapped, a choked noise escaping him. He held himself very still after that. Seconds stretched into what felt like hours as he collected himself, silent apart from an occasional shuddering breath. At last, he lifted his eyes, and Randall repressed a shiver.

Only once before had he seen them so cold, so empty. Randall stiffened, recalling white walls bedecked with blood and brains. He blinked away the image, but others arose to replace it: the remnants of Brinkley’s skull strewn like stars over carpet the color of a midnight sky, and those eyes -- Devin’s eyes -- round and yellow as twin rainy-season moons. They’d held no remorse as he crouched at the epicenter of the carnage, regarding the crumpled form beside him.

Should’ve stopped when I told him to, he’d said. Asked him real nice and everything.

He’d done more than ask. The Board had tried its best to keep the allegations under wraps, but rumors spread like brush fire on the ward. They’d taken Brinkley at his word, hypnotized by his martyr’s smile, and Randall had done nothing to dissuade them. He’d done nothing but watch, fists clenched, each time Brinkley led Devin off to have his way with him.

His insides twisting, Randall recalled Devin’s last day on the ward. He’d looked far younger than his fifteen years, frail shoulders slumped as he followed Brinkley into the treatment room. As the door closed behind Devin, he’d glanced back at Randall, an unspoken plea in his wide, wet eyes.

Even then, Randall had done nothing.

He gritted his teeth, a familiar heat coming over him. He’d always worked well with the boys on the ward; even the boss had said so. If only they’d chosen him instead of Brinkley --

“Don’t know anything, huh?”

Randall felt the question, warm and silken on his sweat-chilled brow, before he registered its meaning. It lingered in his mind for only an instant, erased by the urgent press of Devin’s body against his own. Randall inhaled sharply, taking in the scent of soap and floral shampoo.

“Think you do,” Devin whispered, trailing his tongue along the edge of Randall’s jaw.

Devin moved his lips to Randall’s neck, teasing it with a slow, deliberate exhale. Randall shivered, pulse quickening and fingers trembling with the need to touch. His eyes rolled back and he drew in a ragged breath. Time stopped and the world around him receded.

“Wanna play nice, don’tcha?” The words were muffled, hot puffs of air on Randall’s bruised flesh.

Randall froze, his stomach rolling over. In all the times he’d bedded Devin, it had never been like this. Pliant and unresisting, he’d never played the aggressor. Was this the way he’d behaved with his clients, those men he’d slipped out to see at night when he thought Randall was asleep?

The haze of lust that fogged Randall’s thoughts began to dissipate. He grasped Devin’s shoulders, lifting him as though he were weightless and holding him at arm’s length.

“This isn’t what you want,” Randall said, each syllable an effort.

The color drained from Devin’s face. “Since when’s that ever fucking mattered?”

You wanted me, Randall thought, though he didn’t dare speak. You never told me no.

Devin recoiled as if from a physical blow, his eyes all whites. They narrowed a moment later, dull and devoid of emotion. His delicate nose wrinkling, he wrenched free of Randall’s grip.

He lifted one hand and sidestepped, the action so swift he seemed to blur. Randall hurled himself to the floor. Wind whistled above him; a large object sailed through the space he’d occupied an instant earlier. It struck the wall behind him with a deafening thud.

It echoed in his ears, accompanied by a sickening crack. Randall held his breath, glancing up to see the heavy oaken chair in splinters. Devin stood amidst the wreckage, though Randall hadn’t heard him move. His mouth quirked up at one corner, and he spoke in a soft, sweet voice.

“Never fucking wanted you,” he said.


n3m3sis43: ((FMAB) Huuuughes and Winryyyy)
“Let go of my fucking son.” Murdock moves in close.

Can smell the stench of his carnivore breath, feel it hot on my face. Heart’s in my throat, stomach right behind it. I gulp ‘em back, keep my knife hand steady. Keep my eyes on his, searing blue and all but shooting sparks. World goes dim, him and me and nothing else.

“Let go of him, you Umani piece of shit,” he growls, like I didn’t already hear him.

I smirk, my arm still tight around the kid. “Gotta give me what I want first, General.

Course he can’t, not really. Can’t give me back the man I love, the man I lost. He’s gone for good ‘cause I tried to stall the war Murdock wants so bad, but --

Least I can finish what I fucking started.

Murdock glares, teeth bared. “I don’t have to give you anything.”

“Guess not.” I drop my gaze, focus on the blade. Blood wells up with just a tiny shift in pressure, almost black against the kid’s brown skin. Paints slick trails around the bruises on his neck. Kid’s silent, doesn’t move a fucking muscle. His eyes meet mine, calm as summer seas.

Air’s too thick, heavy in my lungs. Hands wanna shake, takes all my strength to hold ‘em still.

Murdock’s carved from fucking stone, a true Majerian. Folds his beefy arms across his chest and stares me down. “Why stop there?” He shakes his head. “Go ahead, cut deeper. Bleed him dry, for all I care. I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

I swallow hard, mouth dry as desert dunes. “But he’s… your fucking kid.”

“He’s expendable.”

Kid goes stiff against me, lets out this little squeak. My hold on him relaxes and I stroke his hair with frozen fingers. Pulse pounds in my ears, throat closes up. No choice now, no way out --

Devin, sweetheart. Breathe.

I blink, remember why I’m here. Strain to hear that soft, sweet voice and let it ground me. Force myself to breathe in deep, be strong for him. I push the kid away, mouth one word at him:

Run.

“Everyone’s expendable,” I whisper when he’s gone.

I lift my shirt, reveal the wires bundled nice and neat above my shattered heart. Those ice-chip eyes of Murdock’s widen, fixed on my homemade bomb. His hand creeps toward his blaster and I grip my knife, white-knuckled. Raise it up and press its blade against my throat.

“Guess what happens if I fucking die,” I croak.


n3m3sis43: ((FMAB) Mustang and Huuuughes otpppp)
This is chapter 4 of Cliffton book 1. Some parts of chapter 2 from the previous rewrite are reworked here, from Wes's POV this time. I have not written Wes's POV in forever. As always, concrit is much appreciated. Rip me to shreds. I don't mind. Warning for language because Devin is there.


If you're reading Cliffton for the first time, here are the previous chapters so you can catch up:
Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3


writing Wes POV is hard )
n3m3sis43: ((FMAB) Mustang and Huuuughes otpppp)
This is chapter 3 of Cliffton book 1. The first section is a reworked version of chapter 2, section 1 in the previous rewrite. The second is totally new. This didn't turn out the way I expected. I need money for every time I say that. As always, concrit is much appreciated. Rip me to shreds. I don't mind. Warning for language because, um, Devin.


If you're reading Cliffton for the first time, here are the previous chapters so you can catch up:
Prologue | 1 | 2


wherein we finally meet the insurgents )
n3m3sis43: ((FMAB) Huuuughes and Winryyyy)
Concrit much appreciated. This is chapter 11 of Cliffton book 1, now edited and hopefully beta-ready. If you are looking for the older version for comparison purposes, it is here Slight warning for minor violence. Also, this chapter took For. Ever. to write. Ughhhhhhh.

If you're reading Cliffton for the first time, here are the previous chapters so you can catch up:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10


Can't we all just get along? )
n3m3sis43: ((FMAB) Huuuughes and Winryyyy)
Concrit much appreciated. This is chapter 9 of Cliffton book 1, now edited and hopefully beta-ready. If you are looking for the older version for comparison purposes, it is here Still no warnings.

If you're reading Cliffton for the first time, here are the previous chapters so you can catch up:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8


she blinded me with science )
n3m3sis43: ((FMAB) Huuuughes and Winryyyy)
Concrit much appreciated. This is chapter 8 of Cliffton book 1, now edited and hopefully beta-ready. If you are looking for the older version for comparison purposes, it is here No warnings. At some point in the book, there will be warnings.

If you're reading Cliffton for the first time, here are the previous chapters so you can catch up:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7


cut because your princess is in another castle )
n3m3sis43: ((FMAB) Huuuughes and Winryyyy)
Concrit much appreciated. This is chapter 7 of Cliffton book 1, now edited and hopefully beta-ready. This one didn't go through major rewriting except for the final section, but I did edit for voice and add a bit of context all the way through. If you are looking for the older version for comparison purposes, it is here.

If you're reading Cliffton for the first time, here are the previous chapters so you can catch up:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6


nothing really happened today )
n3m3sis43: ((FMAB) Huuuughes and Winryyyy)
Concrit much appreciated. This is chapter 6 of Cliffton book 1, now rewritten and hopefully beta-ready. If you are looking for the older version for comparison purposes, it is here.

If you're reading Cliffton for the first time, here are the previous chapters so you can catch up:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5


In which we learn some interesting things about Wes )
n3m3sis43: ((FMAB) Huuuughes and Winryyyy)
Concrit much appreciated. This is chapter 5 of Cliffton book 1, now rewritten and hopefully beta-ready. If you are looking for the older version for comparison purposes, it is here.

If you're reading Cliffton for the first time, here are the previous chapters so you can catch up:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4


wherein everyone moves into the Magical House )
n3m3sis43: ((FMAB) Huuuughes and Winryyyy)
This is chapter 2 of Cliffton book 1. Concrit is much appreciated. The original version of this story was a <800-word attempt to cheer myself up after I wrote "Pretty Buttons". It did not, in fact, cheer me up at the time, in case you were wondering. If you're curious, the original version's over here.

If you're reading Cliffton for the first time, here's chapter 1 so you can catch up.


this one's pretty much cute and has no warnings besides f-bombs )
n3m3sis43: (Default)
Yup, this story goes along with "Beautiful Disaster". It takes place on the same day, and there are no warnings unless accidental abuse of cold meds counts as a warning. Or maybe "Devin is a crazypants"? But he doesn't do anything scary in this one? Haha.


we'll go with no warnings )
n3m3sis43: ((FMAB) Huuuughes and Winryyyy)
This one is goofy/fun and takes place about 3 weeks before "I Love You, Man". Why can't Wes and Devin stay like this? Oh yeah, I think it's because Devin is crazypants. Oops.


cut for cuteness )
n3m3sis43: ((FMAB) Huuuughes and Winryyyy)
Cliffton again. This one takes place a few weeks to a month after Serious Business. Also, thanks to [livejournal.com profile] lilycobalt for the idea of a drinking night.



everyone should have a birthday party )

Too Easy

Oct. 28th, 2012 11:46 am
n3m3sis43: (Default)
It's totally normal to write fluff right after doing a rewrite of something disturbing, right? This wasn't what I set out to write but apparently CallaBot needed to torment Devin. Okay by me. This takes place maybe 3-4 weeks after everyone moves in.


it's short, but I cut it anyway )
n3m3sis43: (Default)
Title: Everything You Touch
Prompt: Loss and Zombies
Bonus? Nope
Word Count: 3227
Rating: R
Original/Fandom: Original (Cliffton)
Pairings (if any) Nope
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con etc): Language and depression, death
Summary: Sometimes, the only way forward is backward.

not the quickest quick fic I've ever written )
n3m3sis43: (Default)
Cliffton again. This one takes place a few hours after Welcome Home and I am using it to fill the "isolation" prompt on my h/c bingo card.



"So, dude, you wanna see your room?" Wes looks me up and down, seeing how I'm covered in grime. "I bet what you really want is a shower, huh?"

of course I want a shower )
n3m3sis43: (Default)
So, what I did here was combine "Welcome Home" and "Let's Be Friends" into a single story/chapter since they are both Brendan's POV and immediately follow each other in the book. This is backdated because there is nothing new to see here. And this takes place not long after "Second Thoughts".


welcome to my world )
n3m3sis43: (Default)
Title: Welcome Home
Word Count: 1223
Rating: R for f-bombs
Original/Fandom: Original (Cliffton)
Pairings (if any): Nope
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/etc): Nope
Summary: Brendan meets his new roommates.

cut for epic cluelessness with a side of wtf )

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