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divine-donna · 2 months

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Girls Like Me Pretend (We Don't Cry)

word count: 2.4k words

alternative link: 🕷️🕸️🫀

synopsis: it's been six months after the events of spiderverse. spider-ling is finally readjusting well to the massive shift in her canon. she believes she's ready to move on, until she sees a familiar face at work.

part 2 | part 3 | part 4

My name is Emma Charoensuk-Hua. And for the past six years, I’ve been the one and only Spider-Ling. My life has been quite complicated. Found out my father was a Master of the Mystic Arts when I was 15. And also that we have like a family feud with this other family for over a millennia. I became a Master of the Mystic Arts and embraced my, supposed, destiny as a sorceress and became Doctor Strange’s apprentice, after the death of my father. He wasn’t around a lot, but I still cared for him. Of course, everything has to go wrong in that my ex decides to try to sacrifice my whole universe so his patron could conquer the multiverse. And I tapped into my Inner Power when I wasn’t ready. It was going to kill me, so Doctor Strange did the only thing he could do: take it out. I came out magicless and wandered around life, obsessed with my coursework. Well, not entirely magicless. I’m still able to do spells, study magic. I just can’t perform anything complicated. And I’m disconnected from my ancestors. So that…sucks. Then of course, the story goes as is. Get bitten by a radioactive spider at 21, learn about heroism, with great power comes great responsibility, yada, yada, yada. So yeah, I became Spider-Ling. Pissed off lots of politicians, do some mutual aid on the weekends. I also got my degrees and a PhD. And I work at OSCORP as a researcher. Oh! I got married! Then divorced. I don’t wanna talk about it. Who ever does? I’ve lost people, lost things along the way. But I’m Spider-Ling because apparently, that’s what the universe wanted from me.

Manhattan — Earth-728

Her hand slammed down hard on the alarm clock, causing it to break. She sat up, hair messy, and rubbed her eyes. “Fuck…” Emma would need to go buy a new alarm clock on the way back or during her lunch break. She slowly crawls out of bed and shuffles to the bathroom where she does her morning routine before getting dressed. Checking that she had everything in her work bag, she leaves her apartment and heads straight to the local bakery to buy herself a steamed bun. The conversation she has with the cashier is brief since she was in a rush to get to work. Once out, Emma checks her phone and the traffic. “Trains are down. Guess I have to find another way around the city.”

She’s mastered the art of changing into her suit by now, able to do it in a quick and easy manner. With her mask on, bag strapped, and bun steaming hot, Spider-Ling takes to the city early in the morning. Besides, swinging around this early was also good for a small morning patrol where she would catch up with some people if she had time. But there was also nothing like starting a morning by flying through the city while eating her bun. There was a certain freedom that came with it, though she tried hard not to swing every single morning. She reached the OSCORP building faster than she ever could on the train and fell into an empty alleyway to change out of her suit and back into her work clothes. She discards the bag her bun was in into the garbage and walks into OSCORP, swiping in. “Morning Emma.” Chester, the security guard, says. “Got a busy day?”

“It’s always busy at OSCORP.” She salutes him as she gets on the escalator. The geneticist makes her way to the elevator and presses down on the 55 button. When the elevator stops and the doors open, she leaves and is met immediately with her supervisor.

“Ah! Emma!” Cynthia pushes up her glasses. “Just in time! There’s coffee and bagels in the conference room. Get your ass in a seat.”

Emma didn’t question it. It was common for them to have meetings anyways. So she went straight to the conference room and sat down next to Shin. “Had a good weekend?” He asks.

She grabs a plain bagel and bites into it. The bun was delicious but that definitely was not enough to sustain her for the rest of the day, especially if she was going to patrol and do her Spider-Ling duties. “Busy. Like usual.” She says, hand covering her mouth while she chews. “What did you do?”

“Had dinner with a friend. Went on a date. Was not so great. Nothing really is better than—”

“Shin, let it go. It didn’t work out and that’s alright.”

“You just don’t like my uncle.”

“Your uncle is a Japanese nationalist. I’m Taiwanese. Put the pieces together yourself.” Emma takes another bite as Cynthia walks in.

“Okay. Happy Monday everyone.” The entire subdivision groaned. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. So before we do a debriefing for what corporate wants us to do for the week, some introductions are in order.” Everyone looks at each other curiously, while Emma continues to eat her bagel. “I’d like to introduce everyone to our newest member of the division. He just transferred from our branch in Mexico City and worked at Alchemax for six years before joining the better company. So, here is Dr. Miguel O’Hara!”

Emma felt herself almost choke on her bagel seeing who walked in. Her Spider Sense went off like crazy, even if the man who had walked into the conference room meant no harm. He posed no threat to her and yet, her anxiety spiked through the roof of the OSCORP building. “Hi everyone.” Miguel smiles widely, eyes sparkling a little. “I look forward to working with you all.” When his eyes travel to her, Emma feels as if he’s looking into her soul. It was…so strange to see Miguel in her dimension. She didn’t even know her dimension had a Miguel. Did the other Miguel know? He looked so different. He was just as big as the Miguel she knew but his posture was a little more slouched. His eyes were warm and brown and he lacked bags under his eyes. It appeared as if his life was put together and he didn’t cause a whole universe to collapse. She also took in his outfit: a blue button down, tan slacks, dark brown Oxfords, and a white lab coat. She could see his OSCORP I.D. card, attached to the standard blue lanyard with white font. He didn’t look like he worked at OSCORP. Then again, they all dressed like that during their first week until Cynthia told them she didn’t care and to only dress formally when corporate came to observe them.

“Emma will show you around once we’re done with the meeting.” Cynthia begins her debriefing on the week’s activities.

Once the meeting is wrapped up, Emma leaves the room and rushes to her office, setting her things down and finishing her bagel. Her Spider Sense goes off again and she turns around, grabbing the nearest thing to throw (in this case, her pen holder). “Whoa! Lo siento.” Miguel holds his hands up in surrender. “Did I scare you?”

She sighs, setting the pen holder down. Her Spider Sense continues to tingle. “Sorry. Rough morning.”

“No worries.” He smiles, putting his hands down. “You have, like, a sixth sense or something? Your back was turned and I don’t think I made too much noise.”

“Ummm…I guess you can say that.” She pulls out her headphones from her bag and sets it on her desk. “I can, um, give you that tour now?”

“That would be awesome.” His smile is so bright that it kind of hurts her eyes. He looks so…happy. And innocent, in comparison to the other Miguel.

Emma shows him around the floor, taking him to the lab and even telling him where the good printers are (not on their floor). It’s a quick tour and she debriefs him about some of the stuff they’ve been working on. She doesn’t notice the little look of admiration in his eyes. She spoke eloquently and carried herself with confidence, even if she looked a little worn out. (Then again, everyone did) His eyes may have wandered a little further down than necessary. But he was subtle and he wasn’t going to lie about her appearance. After the tour, Emma returns to her office. She puts her headphones on and begins working, writing on the reports and editing some of the papers with her name attached to it. She makes her edits and occasionally leaves her office to grab something to drink.

From his cubicle, Miguel watches her. He glances her way, seeing how hard she was working and moves his gaze elsewhere when she glances at him. Of course, his staring doesn’t go unnoticed by the man sitting next to him. “You might want to dial back on the ogling. We have work to do.” Shin crosses his arms as he leans against the cubicle.

“Is she going out with anyone?” He looks up at his colleague.

“Are you thinking about asking her out?” He scoffs. “You shouldn’t. She’s such a workaholic.”

“So…that’s a yes then?”

“What? No! I mean, yes. She’s single…I think.”

“You sound like you have dated her.”

“I mean, we did date for a bit.” Shin sounds smug.

“But you guys aren’t together. So that means it didn’t work.” Miguel has a small smile on his face, thinking about the fact that he could date her right now. Technically. He didn’t really know Shin. So it wasn’t really breaking bro code.

“I wouldn’t say it didn’t work. She just doesn’t like my uncle.”

“Are you Japanese?”

“...Yes. I don’t see why that matters.”

“And what’s her ethnicity?”

“Taiwanese. And Thai.”

Miguel raises his eyebrows. “I think it spells itself out.”

Shin was baffled. Too baffled to speak actually. He just returns to his cubicle and continues working. About an hour or two passes and the new transfer finally stops admiring the woman in the office from a distance and actually does his work. But he soon found that he needed to make copies of something. Miguel quickly found out that the copier on their floor doesn’t work. But he should’ve remembered that from the tour earlier today. It did make for a great excuse to visit her though!

Emma’s Spider Sense tingles a little and she looks away from her computer. She sees Miguel’s hand against the glass, which meant he had knocked. Or was knocking to get her attention. She beckons him inside and slides her headphones down to her neck, pausing the music. “M-Miguel. What can I, um, do for you?”

“I was hoping you could show me where to print? Well, I need to make copies and the copier isn’t working.” He smiles.

“Come on.” She puts her computer to sleep and leads him to the elevator, tapping her ID against the scanner and pressing the button with the floor number five above them.

“Why are we going to the 60th floor?”

“They have the best paper and the ink is always available. It’s because that’s where, like, the upper echelon of OSCORP office employees work.”

“You know quite a bit. Have any friends up there?”

“Used to. She got transferred to a…different division. Elsewhere in the world.” She sighs.

It’s awkward for a moment before Miguel asks her a question. “How long have you worked at OSCORP?”

“Do I count the time I worked as an intern?”

“I guess. Does it add much?”

“Only a year. I’ve been working here since…god, since I was twenty-one. So six years?”

“That’s a long time, especially for someone of your age.”

“I am pretty old.”

Miguel laughs. “You’re nowhere near old.”

“Why? Are you like way older?”

“I’m only thirty-two.”

“That’s not bad. You’re only five years older than me.” Emma exits the elevator with Miguel when they arrive at the desired floor. “How long have you been working at OSCORP?”

“Three years, give or take. I spent my twenties with Alchemax instead. I’m the one that developed an alternative and cheaper medication to Sickle Cell.”

“Oh. Alchemax.” She lets out a small nervous laugh. He pouted on the inside seeing her not react to his little brag.

“Have you heard of it?”

“Of course I have.” She opens the printing room with her keys and turns on the light. Miguel closes the door behind them as she fires up the printer and copy machine. “They’re our biggest competitor. And they rejected my many job proposals because I was overqualified.” She scoffs.

“Soft spot?” He asks while copying his papers.

“Guess you can say that.”

Miguel spends the rest of the time observing her. Even if she was standing idly by, waiting for him to finish. Their silence is comforting, a little bit. He enjoyed the silence. On the other hand, Emma wasn’t used to it. She was still on edge, her Spider Sense tingling in the back of her mind. It wasn’t Miguel. There wasn’t any danger. So why did it feel like she was in danger? When he is done, the two of them return to their floor and return to work. After another hour, their lunch break hits. Miguel quickly packs up so he could try to catch Emma for lunch. Except he doesn’t find her in the office. He feels a little disappointed, walking to the elevator. His face brightens upon seeing her in the elevator. Except she has her headphones on and is looking at her phone. He runs to the elevator, trying to beat the doors, but they close and the elevator descends.

Miguel returns to the office, having eaten a good meal. Halal food was really good and it reminded him of home, going to street vendors and buying his lunch from local people. He even stopped by a modern Mexican joint and bought some horchata. ($8 for a large was…too expensive) It tasted alright and he knew he could make a better one at home. When he gets to his cubicle, he sees a flash of red pass by Emma’s office window. He’s only read about the superheroes that protect New York City. But the red blur had him presuming it was the smaller and more experienced hero: Spider-Ling. About five minutes after that, Emma emerges from the elevator, headphones on. She was busy eating an empanada, and stopped in her tracks when she was approached by Miguel. “I missed you earlier.” He says.

She pulls down her headphones. “Sorry. Had to rush out. I was busy during my lunch break so I only got something small.” She presents him with the bag. “I’m already full though.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.” She nods. “Wait…do you like olives in your empanadas or no?” He shrugs. She gives him her last empanada. “They’re pretty good.”

“You’re going to have to tell me where I can get these.”

Emma laughs nervously. “We’ll see.”

#marvel #spiderverse #atsv #fanfiction #oc x canon #spidersona #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x oc

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space-mermaid-writing · 1 year

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The black cat with blue eyes [Part 1]

Summary: One day Peter drags a cat into the tower he found in the dumpsters and Tony finds himself adopting it, because – honestly – he can not say no to Peter. It turns out the cat has really strange opinions on food, belly scratches and movies. What else? Oh yes, Doctor Strange is missing. But those two events are clearly not related. Clearly…

Relationship: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

Tags: Temporary Cat!Stephen, Hurt/Comfort, life is trauma, friendship is healing, supreme family (kind of), it starts with angst and ends in fluff, a lot of fun in between, I swear this is fun

Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 7k | Part 2

Author’s note: This started - as so often - as a small idea and then it became something else. Black cats hold a special place in my heart.

This cat is strange...

The streets of New York were busy as usual. People were walking purposefully, caught up in their normal everyday lives. As far as one could speak of a normal everyday life, after half the population had been bliped and then had reappeared just as surprisingly five years later. It had been a shock for everyone.

Those who had gone missing, were now trying to fit back in. While the ones that had survived the blip in the first place were still trying to keep society going.

It wasn’t easy for anyone. People just tried to concentrate on the day at hand. One step at a time.

It was a cloudy day in spray. The sun had made itself scarce the last few days and that put a damper on everyone's mood. Especially the food vendors noticed that, when trying to attract customers around Central Park.

Like Stan, who owned a hot dog stand in the north end of the park. His numbers weren't great today either. There were only persistent joggers or dog owners in the park, none of them falling into the category of his main target customers. Hardly any teenagers after school or tourists who wanted to make their New York trip even more authentic with a hot dog (so they could brag about it back home).

To stave off boredom from the quiet day, Stan stepped up to his booth neighbor, a newspaper vendor. Both men knew each other well, having shared the space for years.

All the while, Stan didn't notice those watchful blue eyes that were observing him from the shadows, just waiting for him to leave his meat on the grill unattended for a moment.

The hunt had begun.

It was pure instinct and hunger that made the cat move. Stalking quietly, eyes locked on its target. One jump and it had a hot dog in its mouth – which should be way too hot, but miraculously it didn't bother the feline - and then fled with its prey.

But not fast enough.

"Hey!" Stan spotted the black cat and ran after it, even though the sausage was long lost. "Darn beast!"

The man stumbled (there was nothing in his way he should trip over, it was as if he had received a push from an invisible force) and the cat disappeared among the bushes.

The animal stopped only when it knew it was safe. Then it hungrily ate its meal.

It was an all black cat, once for sure sleek with beautiful long hair, now scrubby and broken-down. It picked its food out of the garbage or stole it when the opportunity was good. Like it had been now.

Life on the street was tough. There was no dignity left for those who wandered them long enough.

It was just a regular stray. There were hundreds of them in the city. Although, this one might have had an ace up its sleeve – as good magicians always did.

But that was about it.

It wasn't an easy life but a chosen one. The simple mind of an animal helped to forget. And the cat had every reason to want to forget. More than a single mind should ever endure.

The cat finished its meal.

Sometimes it thought of a stray dog it had met on the other side of the world. In another life. It had felt a connection to the other animal back then, like the fellow stray it was. Like the cat was now again. Life had come full circle.

The cat's ears pricked up as it heard a sound, a rustling in the bushes.

It was just a bird, but the cat was leaving anyway. It didn't feel safe staying at one place for too long.

_____________________________________

Peter and his friends were sitting on a bench in the park. It was the weekend and Ned's parents had sent the trio outside so the teens would get some fresh air and sunshine.

It was a crisp day and they wore their jackets as they talked about their upcoming school projects and spring break plans. And, of course, about Star Wars.

They ate the sandwiches Ned's grandmother had packed them. She always made too much, but they were so good the kids ate them all anyway. They were, after all, growing teenagers – at least that was their excuse. (And at least with Peter and his enhanced metabolism, it wasn't wrong).

Peter noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye and picked the ham off his sandwich, which he rolled up. With that, he lured the shy animal out.

"What are you doing?" MJ asked, her eyebrows raised in question as she watched him hold the ham toward the bushes and click his tongue.

"Just wait. I've seen them a couple of times. They look like they could use the food."

Ned was joining in immediately. He had never been allowed a pet, so he was over the moon when the cat eventually approached and ate the meat they threw at it.

MJ was naturally more suspicious. "I thought only baby cats had blue eyes. Most change color after the first three months.

"Maybe a gene abnormality," Ned guessed and that made the girl re-think, because it would actually be cool. Still, she kept an eye on the cat.

The feline remained cautious and while it was offered food, it evaded any attempt at petting. The message was clear: no touching.

It sat under the bench, peering out from between the teenagers' legs and politely lifting its paw to ask for more food. It devoured up every treat as if it was afraid they would be taken away from it.

Finally, the teens stood up and shouldered their backpacks. "Bye, kitty. We gotta go." They waved at him.

"Don't tell my Nana we fed her sandwiches to a cat," Ned told his friends.

MJ took one last look back. The cat was still sitting under the bench, staring after them, tail twitching. She swore those blue eyes were not normal.

_____________________________________

It was raining cats and dogs when Peter ran through the streets of Manhattan. He was late (it was his own fault, because he had dawdled to leave after school). His sneakers were not waterproof and soon even his socks were wet.

Maybe he should have texted Mister Stark and asked him if he could send a car. But Peter still had a hard time asking for anything of the man, even everything they had been through.

It was Peter’s senior year. He was about to graduate from high school and his college application was already out (He had only sent one).

He had pulled the hood over his head and was dodging passersby with umbrellas. As he did so, he was careful not to get too close to the road, because cars weren't paying attention to whether they were splashing pedestrians. Like now, when a car that passed by way too fast. Thanks to his Peter Tingle, the boy had stopped just in time and prevented the worst.

But not everyone was so lucky.

First he thought he was just imagining it, but then he heard it again: a small meowing sound. And when he turned his head to the side, he saw a drenched black cat among the garbage bags that had been placed along the road for collection day.

Peter realized that Central Park across the street and the feline had probably come here in search of food. How it had managed to cross the street alive with all the traffic was a mystery.

The cat – Peter recognized the blue eyes – looked worse than ever. The rain of the last few days had not done the stray any good. It’s fur stuck in weird ways and it looked even thinner than the last time Peter had seen it.

Peter bit his lower lip. His heart ached, but he was still late and it wasn't like he could just take a random animal home.

The passers-by started complaining to the teenager that had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. So Peter stepped to the side, towards the cat. It shook its fur and a few drops flew off it. It did little to help with the soaking wetness. The boy crouched down, put his hand out and went for a classic 'pspsps'. It got him the animal's attention and the blue eyes locked on the boy.

Whatever Peter had expected to see, it was not the resignation he saw. The feline looked so very tired, as if it had already seen far too much in its short feline life.

And didn't Peter know that look, because it sometimes stared back at him from his own reflection.

How many of its nine lives had this cat been through?

The animal approached slowly, bare paws on the asphalt, sniffing Peter's fingers in hopes of food. Unfortunately, the boy had already eaten the lunch he packed this morning.

"Mrrew." It sounded like a soft sigh when the cat realized Peter was empty handed. It was about to turn away when Peter all of a sudden swooped it up in his arms. The cat wiggled and made an alarmed cry of protest, which did not faze Peter.

He opened the zipper of his jacket and took the cat inside. There he held it tightly and continued his way to the tower in fast steps.

_____________________________________

Peter carefully wrapped the cat in a towel and rubbed him dry. The animal still looked pathetic, but by now had quietly resigned himself to his fate. Perhaps he also realized that an unknown, dry place was still better than a wet pile of garbage.

Peter left him in the towel on the couch and went into the adjoining kitchen to look for something he could feed the feline. Fortunately, the refrigerator in Stark's penthouse was always well stocked.

He had just opened the door and winced when he heard a loud string of swearing. Apparently Mr. Stark had found the cat and was not happy about it. Peter rushed back.

"What is this wretched ball of fur doing on my couch?"

"IfoundhimintheraininthedumpsterhelookedsohelplessandhehasnohomesoIbroughthimhere." Peter took a deep breath. It was impressive just how much he could say in one breath.

Tony stared at him. He was a certified genius, but it took his brain a whole moment to filter out the relevant information from this far-too-fast gibberish.

His answer turned out to be a lot shorter. "No."

Peter blinked. "Please, Mister Stark! Just for a few days. Until it stops raining," he pleaded. His lower lip began to quiver dangerously. He had far too soft a heart for a superhero and took everything highly personally.

"Why don't you take him to May?" Tony asked as an alternative suggestion.

"She's allergic to cats."

And, shit, Tony really couldn't refuse the kid anything when he looked at him with his big doe eyes like that. Initially, when he'd found out about the boy's abilities and showed up at his aunt's house, Tony had seen him as someone he could sponsor. Just keep an eye on him.

But then came Berlin, the arms dealers on the boat, and all the other incidents. As time went on, their professional mentor/student relationship shifted more and more to this science parent and kid thing they had going on. And then Peter had followed him onto the flying doughnut.

Tony would never be able to forgive himself for that. Nor would he ever forget the boy crumbling to dust in his arms. He still had nightmares about that.

Now, Peter was standing in front of him, a can of tuna in his hand, looking like Tony was about to throw the boy's first homemade AI robot on the scrap heap.

He recalled a discussion he had with his own father many decades ago. When young Tony wanted a dog and Howard was adamantly against it.

"Fine. It can stay – for now. And we will scan it for diseases.” He gave in. Even if it was just a fuck you, Howard. Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to think too hard about his reasons, before he turned to the cat. "And you! I warn you only once, so listen closely: if you piss on my carpet, you'll be back on the streets faster than you can say 'meow'." The cat sniffed at his index finger, which he held out to it. But when he found no food there, he turned to Peter and the can.

"He won't," Peter assured his mentor.

"He?"

"Yes. It's kinda obvious if you look at him from behind."

"Alright, that's enough information. Actually, it's more than I wanted to hear."

The results of Friday's medical scan came back clean. So the cat was allowed to stay – for now.

_____________________________________

It was the middle of the night when Tony stumbled into his kitchen. Nightmares had jolted him out of sleep, and even though he couldn't remember exactly what horror scenario it had been this time, he didn't feel like going back to sleep anytime soon.

He turned on the coffee maker and listened to its soothing sounds when the cat jumped up on the counter and stared at him in a way that only cats could. Tony was too tired to see anything else in it.

"You hungry?...yeah, me too."

Contrary to his initial fear that the feline would annoy him, he hardly noticed his presence.

Tony grabbed a bagel and got cream cheese from the fridge. The cat stretched his neck, his blue eyes now completely fixated on the delicious smelling food. Tony placed a spoonful of cream cheese in front of him, which the animal began to lick contentedly.

The inventor took his coffee and breakfast (could it be called breakfast yet? It was only 3:14am in the morning) to his personal lab and opened the file of his latest project.

He didn't realize he wasn't alone in the room until he heard DUM-E moving around in the background and then a hissing. Outraged and with flat ears and arched back, the pet jumped onto the table, but even there he was not safe from the robot's claw.

"DUM-E behave," Tony instructed his artificial son. "Fri, keep an eye on Blue Eye. I can't have him getting hurt by something sharp."

Mostly because he could not stand the resulting drama with Peter.

Sulking, DUM-E moved to another corner of the room and silence reigned again. Tony looked back at his hologram.

But he could not concentrate. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, a sure sign that he was being watched.

He turned his head and looked into the black void the black cat had become by curling up.

Blue orbs stared back from the void.

Yeah, cats were a different kind of weird.

_____________________________________

Tony quickly discovered that his small roommate refused any kind of cat food. They had even tried the expensive one, but the feline turned up his nose when he saw this weird gibberish mass in his bowl (Tony wouldn’t want to eat that either) and demonstratively turned away.

Instead, he jumped up on the dining room table – something Tony had repeatedly forbidden him to do – and demanded to have whatever food Tony or Peter were having.

Tony had never had a pet and was only now learning that cats had an amazing amount of food they were able to eat. And the one living in his penthouse rent free apparently had a particularly culinary sense of taste. Whenever they ate take-out – and, admittedly, that was most days, because Tony didn't have the time or desire to cook – the cat appeared, meowing loudly and demanding. Whether it was pizza, burgers, sandwiches, Thai, or just fries. Once he even ate the salad.

But Tony drew the line when the cat sniffed at his mug of coffee. „No,“ he said and took the mug away.

„You won‘t like that anyway,“ he explained when he pressed the button on the coffee maker in the morning and lifted the cat off the counter.

„That‘s mine!“ he stated every time he moved his cup away from the feline in the lab.

„Don‘t you dare!“ he shouted when he spotted the cat across the room right next to a whole pot of coffee. He swore there was something wrong with this animal. The way it looked at him with that cocky smirk in his eyes was not normal.

The cat pushed the pot with one of his front paws to the edge of the table board. Tony raised his finger in warning. The cat pushed a little, not breaking eye contact. The pot broke on the floor and the cat jumped down to lick the coffee off the floor.

"I hope you choke on it," Tony growled as he set a small bowl of coffee down for the cat, the next time he fixed himself a cup.

_____________________________________

Tony had never been allowed to have a pet as a kid, and he was pretty quickly convinced that Peter had brought some fucked up result of an animal experiment into his house.

The cat hadn't even put one paw in the litter box. Instead, he sometimes disappeared into one of Tony's bathrooms. Tony followed him exactly once to see what the cat was up to. But the cat had only stared at him for so long until Tony felt like a creep and backed off.

Friday had no video access to the bathrooms – because Tony was not a creep – and so it remained forever a mystery what the cat did in there.

This creature looked like a cat, sounded like a cat and behaved like a cat (debatable! But Tony checked the internet and found a lot of people sharing weird stories about their cats) but Tony was not taking chances. He had seen talking trees and raccoons, flying hammers and spontaneously combusting people.

He crouched in front of the cat, who had flopped down on the couch and now raised his head in what Tony called the death stare, looking at him intensely.

„Blink once if you understand what I say.“

He waited for a reaction – any reaction – but those clear, blue eyes didn‘t betray a single thought. Tony moved his head slowly forward, not wanting to miss anything, until their faces were almost touching.

The cat licked Tony’s nose.

„Ugh, gross!“ Tony jumped to his feet, turning away and missing the one eyed wink.

_____________________________________

After a few days, the cat had settled in well. While in the beginning he had been hiding under and behind the furniture or watching everything from on top of the cupboards, Tony soon found him more and more often sleeping on the couch or following the man into the lab.

Peter loved the feline and whenever he was in the penthouse – Tony swore that was even more often now than before – he would scoop him up on his arms or pet him. The first few the cat had been reluctant, but he didn't stand a chance against the teenager, and eventually he'd given up to complain whenever Peter buried his fingers in the fur.

Even Tony had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that the fur was very soft. It also looked nice and shiny and healthy now, and not as scrubby as it had been in the beginning.

But whenever visitors came to the penthouse – it was admittedly not very often; only a few people had access these days – the cat disappeared. First Peter tried to coax him with food whenever Pepper or Rhodey came around, but with no luck.

"Stage fright, Blue Eye? You aren’t shy around me or Peter." Tony found the cat as soon as the doors to the elevator closed. The feline sat by the window, observing the city and fully ignoring Tony.

Fine, Tony had work to do anyway and went to his lab.

There was one person he had not yet tried to show his newest roommate. „Fri, babe, what day is it?“

„Thursday the tenth, Boss.“

One person, who hadn‘t shown up in a while and was late by over a week.

„Call Dumbledore.“

It went straight to voicemail and that was weird.

You see, after everything that happened on the flying doughnut, Thanos, that five year gap (aka Tony being angry about losing everything, including his final break up with Pepper) and then getting everyone back and defeating the mad titan – he kinda struck a friendship with the wizard doctor.

Maybe it was jump started by the fact that Strange saved Tony‘s life after he had used all the infinity stones at once. Plus he helped Tony build his new arm.

It also didn't hurt that Strange was really nice to look at. Like really nice.

Even after completion of the project ‘new arm who dis?‘ (not the best Tony came up with but he had started it as soon as Dr. Cho had cleared him off medical and he had been full of pain killers), they still met on the first Wednesday of every month to be snarky, arrogant and just being awesome together.

Strange kept an eye on Peter, whenever Tony wasn‘t around and Tony really appreciated that.

There was also a lot of flirting involved whenever the two men met, but that was just part of their charm and completely without any deeper meaning…

Tony was still in denial about his blossoming feelings for the doctor. And as long as he ignored them, they weren’t there. Even if he actually enjoyed the banter and the flirting and the way Stephen’s face lit up when… anyway!

Sure, sometimes the job came between their meetings. Tony may be retired (on paper), but Strange certainly wasn't.

He wasn't the Sorcerer Supreme anymore – due to technicalities as he always was fast to point out – but he still had a lot of duties protecting their reality.

He usually texted Tony when something came up. Maybe it was an emergency, but eight days was a pretty long emergency and Stephen had once mentioned that he didn't like to leave Earth for such a long time at a stretch.

So, Tony did the next best thing. „Friday, call Wong.“

He had kept in touch with the other sorcerer in the five year gap after the blip, albeit sporadically, because they all had more than enough to do filling in the gaps the snapped people left. It still was enough to excuse a friendly check in. Just to make sure that Stephen was okay and unharmed.

"Stark," Wong's always unamused voice greeted him a few seconds later. To this day, Tony didn't know if Wong even liked him.

"Wong," he mimicked his tone, but then got straight to the point, knowing Wong was no friend of unnecessary pleasantries. "Strange missed our awesome facial hair bros meeting last week and he doesn’t answer my phone."

There was a short pause before Wong replied. "He's not here." Did Tony imagine it or did he sound more annoyed than usual today? Maybe he was displeased to be treated as Strange‘s secretary.

„Okay, sure.“ Tony nodded to himself, starting to pace in the room. „When does he get back?“

„I don‘t know.“

Well, that wasn‘t very helpful.

„Did he leave the dimension?“ Tony asked anyway, unwilling to give up this easily.

There was a long pause as Wong actively hesitated. "I don't know," he said again, and that caught Tony's attention. He stopped walking.

„What do you mean, you don‘t know?“

"Strange disappeared a few weeks ago." That alone might have been explainable, but then Wong added, „… and he left the Cloak of Levitation behind.“

That had Tony alarmed. He had made acquaintance with the red piece of fabric that was unusually expressive for a being without an actual face. And Strange never left his weird magic castle without it.

Tony’s mind immediately jumped to various conclusions. „Any enemies that might got hold of him? Kidnapped by evil forces? Has there been a ransom demand?"

"We have no idea. It’s nothing we can trace with magic." His voice was clipped, concealing the paused anger at losing control of the issue. Wong was Strange's friend; he should have taken better care of him. The man couldn't shake the feeling that he had let him down.

"I'll try the tech way then," Tony suggested. "Nothing escapes the modern eyes of the ever-watching cameras."

"Thanks, that's appreciated."

Wong gave him the details of Strange's disappearance, the time period in which it must have happened (it was impossible to pin down exactly), and Tony promised to get back to him if he found anything.

He ran his fingers through his hair after hanging up. One of the most powerful sorcerers Earth had ever seen and someone he considered a friend was missing – that wasn't great news.

"Alright, Fri, run a face recognition search for Strange. Start in New York, then expand it world wide."

"I'm on it, Boss."

Tony propped his forearms on one of the tables and stared into space. If Strange had been gone for several weeks already, without a trace...that was very concerning. Briefly, the image of a cave in Afghanistan flickered before his eyes, but he quickly shook it off and focused on the map of the U.S. on Fridays screen and the small loading bar she liked to display for funsies.

„Where are you, Stephen Strange?“

_____________________________________

The fact that the cat rejected any kind of cat food didn‘t mean that he wasn‘t hungry. He had been starved when Peter had dragged him to the penthouse, and after overcoming his initial distrust, he began to bug anyone available for food three times a day.

"You're a menace," Tony growled angrily as the feline jumped up on the couch next to him and began meowing loudly to tell him that it was time for lunch. "A weird, precisely timed menace."

By now he was able to interpret his fluffy roommate's behavior well and knew that he wouldn't stop making noise until there was food on his plate. (Yes, the cat wanted to eat from an actual plate. Tony had never used so many dishes).

Since the cat was happy to eat whatever Tony was having, Tony had taken to simply ordering two portions at a time. Tony couldn't help but think he had been bullied into having a regular eating rhythm by a cat.

He had to admit that the company was nice. He talked to the feline as if it were a human being - he had already applied this mannerism with his AI sons and it hadn't done them any harm (except for Ultron, but there was always a black sheep in the family) – an sometimes the cat answered with a meow, so that it almost felt like a real conversation.

Tony balanced two plates of sushi to the table - no algae for the cat, just rice and fish. The feline jumped on the table and waited patiently, eyes fixed on the food and tail twitching slightly. He stretched his neck, annoyed that Tony was holding the plate just out of reach. The human teased him only briefly, then finally put the plate on the table and at the same time gave him a kiss on the head. The cat looked very scandalized and puffed out his chest, not amused about the unexpected act of affection.

Tony chuckled and sat down at the table as well. It had been worth fishing a cat hair out of his mouth just for that reaction. „You‘re the strangest cat I‘ve ever met,“ Tony grinned when the cat gave him the stinky eye.

The irony was lost on him.

_____________________________________

Tony had had a long day when he landed on the platform of the tower and the nanobots retreated to the house unit on his chest. Well, it was only afternoon in New York – but not on the other side of the world in Norway where he had helped Thor and Loki with something. New Asgard was developing well. People started healing.

Tony had set up a fund and that involved a lot of paperwork and details he had to supervise. Next time he would take the jet. It might be slower, but he could get a nap on an actual bed on his way back.

"Hey Blue Eye." The cat tiptoed around his feet to greet him (and possibly trip him) but Tony was too tired to do anything more than a quick pet along his back. He only wanted to lie down in his bed, pull the covers over his head and sleep for the next three days.

Unfortunately, it was still too early to go to bed and, besides, he still had some contracts to read and approve.

Tony needed coffee.

The cat stayed at his side and seemed almost understandingly about the absent attention. Or at least he didn’t complain about it. In return the cat got his smaller bowl of coffee – together with a kiss on his head.

At first it had been funny to watch the feline's unwilling reaction to it. Now it was routine. Tony swore if cats could roll their eyes, this one would do it every day.

With coffee in one hand and a Starkpad in the other, Tony made himself comfortable on the couch. He put his house unit down on the small table on the side. He always kept it within reach; it was his safety anchor, if only to ease his mind.

It probably said a lot about him that he never let it out of his sight for more than a few minutes, but he had made his peace with it. Besides, it was better safe than sorry.

It didn't take long until the cushion dipped and the cat joined him. Blue eyes fixed on him and the Starkpad. Carefully, the animal placed a paw on Tony's torso and when nothing more than a hum came in response, the cat climbed onto Tony's chest where he lay down, his paws tucked under his fluffy body.

"No," Tony protested, "No, that's no place for you." After all, his chest was still his sore point, even after the surgery that had removed the arc reactor. Or maybe because of that.

But the cat merely started purring loudly and closed his eyes.

Tony blinked at him, baffled. Surprisingly, the cat did not feel heavy at all. On the contrary, the slight vibration of his purring felt pleasant. Like a small, warm engine.

"Fine, you can stay – for now." Tony turned his focus back to the Starkpad. Reading, he absently buried his fingers in the soft fur.

This was kinda relaxing.

Later that evening Peter came to visit later to ask about New Asgard and its princes – he had wanted to travel overseas, but wasn't allowed – he found Tony asleep on the couch. His hand was on the cat, which was still on his chest. The feline lifted his head when he heard the boy and narrowed his eyes as if to tell the boy not to be too loud.

Peter put his finger to his lips as a sign that he would be quiet. Tiptoeing, he fetched a blanket for his mentor.

(He also snatched a photo. It was too cute not to.)

_____________________________________

The other day Peter helped Tony to tweak some issues with his new arm. It was nothing serious, just a few detail problems that had only become apparent in the long-term use of the prosthesis.

Since Peter was not a medical expert and only lent an extra pair of hands – everything took so much longer with only one functioning arm – Bruce and Doctor Cho joined in a video conference. Between the number of PhDs and genius brain cells they all mustered, the work was a piece of cake.

"I'm taking the boxes out for recycling," Peter announced after they fixed it.

A lot of materials were made in the lab itself, other things Tony had delivered. But he rarely took care of the packaging, always throwing the boxes in a corner, preoccupied by the projects he needed the materials for in the first place. He grew up rich and never had to clean up after himself, but always had staff or robots for that.

Sure, he kept his workspace neat – or at least the neat ambivalent to the creative chaos, he liked to call it. But the state of everything around it was less important. So there was often a growing stack of empty boxes in at least one corner of the lab.

Peter, raised by his aunt to clean a mess before he left, stacked the boxes inside each other. As he reached for one further in the back, he heard a disgruntled meow. Apparently he had just disturbed someone's nap.

"Sorry," Peter chuckled and set the box aside to take another instead. "Mister Stark bought you that fancy cat tree and you still prefer sleeping in that box? Honestly? Mood."

In response, he heard the noise of paws on cardboard as the cat turned around and lay back down with his back to Peter. The message was clear: he didn't want to be disturbed.

Tony, meanwhile, glanced at Friday's search results for Strange, which were pretty depressing: there were none. It was already the third try – Tony had run the search again and again, always adjusting the parameters – and there wasn’t any trace of the sorcerer.

He had even hacked the cameras in the street of the Sanctum (it wasn't quite legal, not even close, but nobody was able to track his traces anyway, so yeah... ), and had Friday analyze the whole video data of the last few months. There was nothing to indicate the sudden reason for his disappearance.

Absolutely nothing.

If the sorcerer was still on Earth, Tony didn’t know where he could possibly be hiding.

_____________________________________

Tony was having a nightmare. He floated in space – the world had crumbled, all worlds had. Snippets of his loved ones popped up like visions from the past. Peter, Rhodey, Pepper, Happy; all of them in a moment of death. Their screams of agony echoed in Tony‘s head.

He tried to reach out to them but he couldn't move in the vacuum of space. His friends were too far away and he was too small in the magnitude of cosmos.

He needed his suit! He was in space and he needed his suit.

Tony tapped his chest, but there was no house unit, no arc reactor. Just an empty, black void where his lungs should be.

Did he even breathe? How could he breathe in space?

As if the thought had become reality, he suddenly got no more air. He tried to kick and scream without moving and making a sound. The feeling of suffocation brought tears to his eyes. He tried to grab something, anything, but there was nothing.

He was alone.

Suddenly he felt pressure on his chest. Not uncomfortable, more like an anchor that reassured him – like his house unit usually did. With his chest no longer an empty void, he was able to take a deep breath and slowly became aware of his surroundings as he awoke.

He heard the hum of an engine in the background, and still felt the weight on his chest.

"Friday?" he whispered into the darkness, his eyes still closed.

"It's 5:37 in the morning, Boss. Today is Monday the fifth. You're free until ten, when a call with the UN is scheduled," the familiar voice of his AI listed the facts. It helped Tony to shake off his dream, to focus on the present.

„Thanks, babe.“

He reached for his chest and his finger touched fur. Surprised, he opened his eyes and realized that the hum of the engine was actually the purr of the cat.

"Hey, Blue Eye." He smiled softly, his throat still feeling sore. "What are you doing here?"

It was the first time he was seeing the feline in his bedroom. Before today he had always slept in the living room and never even pried into Tony's personal room, as if he wanted to give him space.

Ridiculous! First off, cats had no sense of personal space. Exhibit A was on his chest.

Secondly, his bedroom had probably seen more people than his personal lab. At least in the past – not so much recently.

"He sensed your distress," Friday told him. She knew that speaking to him after a nightmare helped him. „And he refused to leave.“

„Thanks, I guess.“ Tony petted the head of the feline. „Are you gonna let me get up to make coffee for us?“ The cat didn‘t move an inch, just looked at him in concern with his bright eyes. „Fine, five more minutes.“

Tony – perfectly able to move the cat if he wanted to – remained lying and scratched the feline behind his black ears, under his jaw and along his back. The purr got louder and contentedly the cat closed his eyes, relaxed into Tony’s torso.

Half an hour later the cat finally stood up, stretched and jumped on the floor. He was meowing, announcing that it was now indeed time for breakfast.

That wasn‘t a bad idea, Tony could go for a bagel. And coffee. Always coffee.

The feline got his coffee served as usual with a kiss on his fluffy head.

_____________________________________

That day he felt better than he normally would after a horrible nightmare. Having a pet wasn't as bad as he had first thought when Peter dragged the cat in.

When Tony was a kid he had begged his father for a dog – probably like every kid did at one point. His father had refused, had said that animals were too much of a responsibility, that they were dirty and that Tony didn't have time for it. Then Tony was sent to a boarding school, and he never asked again.

Later, when his parents died and Tony took over SI, he really did not had time for a pet. Besides, he had been more interested in women and men anyway

For the next few decades, he hadn't given a second thought to getting a pet. Why should he? He had his robots to look after and Jarvis who kept him company.

But it still felt different when Tony went to bed that night and the cat jumped on his mattress. He didn't even acknowledge Tony when he flopped down next to his shoulder, as if he had always belonged there.

Tony didn't complain about the pet in his bed – something he definitely wouldn't have allowed in the past. Somehow he knew it was the cat's way to look out for him.

Ridiculous! - it was just a cat.

But Tony had seen weirder stuff. He stroked once along the back through the soft fur and slipped under the covers. „Good night, Blue Eye.“ If this was how retirement would be, he could get used to it.

Then the cat moved his tail into Tony‘s face.

_____________________________________

„So, we still have no idea where he is,“ Tony concluded his conversation with Wong. It was something that worried him a lot. Strange had been gone for several weeks, as if he had simply vanished into thin air. (He didn't, at least not magically. Wong said they would have traced that).

The other sorcerer sat in his kitchen with a cup of tea in his hand. He looked seriously concerned and that had a lot to say.

They had spoken a few times, updated each other on the case – although there was depressingly little to update.

Today Wong had walked through a portal into Tony’s kitchen. In that respect, he was worse than Strange, who at least texted him like five seconds before he showed up. It was the thought that counted.

"I should have looked out for him more. He hasn‘t been the same after the snap,“ Wong said in something that sounded like regret.

„It was hard for everyone to settle back in,“ Tony acknowledged. „The world moved on while half of the population was absent.“

The sorcerer shook his head. That wasn‘t what he meant. Sure, Stephen lost his position as Sorcerer Supreme to him and in the meantime the Sanctum had also chosen a new Master, but that was not the reason why Stephen had become distant after everyone reappeared. It wasn‘t the reason why he had been almost unstable.

Stephen had tried to hide it – of course he did. That was just how Stephen acted. Especially since he knew first hand about all the responsibilities Wong had to juggle as Sorcerer Supreme.

Wong had seen snippets of it anyway. But it had to be worse than he had assumed. He didn't know what had happened to his friend, but it couldn't be good.

„He told you about the various possible outcomes of the battle with Thanos, right?“ he asked and Tony nodded. „He didn‘t just watch over 14 million futures, he lived every single one of them. That takes a toll on any man‘s mind. It must have been worse than fighting Dormammu.“

„That was the demon he pulled into a time loop and annoyed him until he left earth?“

Wong's eyes darted up in surprise that Tony knew about that. Stephen didn‘t talk about it a lot. „That‘s one way to describe it,“ he snorted.

„So, you think he went insane in between those futures and forgot which reality is the real one?“ Tony's conclusion was, as always, precise and hit the mark. He even took it further. "And when you think about how many futures he's had to watch fail…" How many deaths of family, friends and close ones he had had to watch, over and over again.

Tony had seen such a future once and it had been borderline torture. It still haunted him sometimes, seamlessly joining the long queue of his nightmares.

„He seemed okay last time I saw him,“ Tony muttered lamely. He knew that it didn't mean anything. He had kept it secret from his friends for a long time, that he was outright dying. Back when he had the palladium in his blood.

And he remembered that he had often caught Strange staring into space, like he had simply zoned out. But sometimes he confused basic facts on who was still alive.

Tony hadn't read too much into it. Although he liked the man and enjoyed having him around (Tony was too old to call it a crush), he didn't know the doctor well enough to judge him.

"We are still waiting for some replies from other dimensions. So, there's still a chance." Wong put down his cup and rose. A clear sign that the meeting was over. He raised his hand with his portal ring. "I'll inform you if we-..." He froze as a black cat pawed around the corner of the doorway into the kitchen, stopping equally surprised.

Tony had never seen so much emotion on Wong's face. The sorcerer literally gasped before he found his voice again.

„Strange?!“

#IronStrange #Stephen Strange #Doctor Strange #cat!Stephen Strange #Tony Stark/Stephen Strange #Stephen Strange x Tony Stark #Iron Man #Wong #Peter Parker #Spider-man #SpaceMermaid #This cat is strange

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sgtcalhouns · 1 year

Text

Moving

From you to me I sense a little animosity So stay away Or maybe, baby, maybe you should stay

Don't you make my heart beat faster Don't you make me mad Doctor, call the undertaker: This one might be bad

It's time for another installment of the Fresh Start au. Hurt feelings abound. Felix is angry for maybe the first time ever. Enjoy!

A bitter wind blew as Felix walked back to his hotel, but his own bitterness seemed to numb him to it. As a million thoughts and feelings swirled in his mind, he couldn’t even bring himself to cry; an uncharacteristic anger had taken hold, forming a lump in his throat that would not allow his tears to pass. Sadness and embarrassment were secondary as he ruminated on everything he had learned tonight. And deep in his chest, a sense of heartbreak he was trying his best to ignore. More than anything, he wished he could be rid of his feelings for Tamora, but the harsh reality was that this only hurt so deeply because he still loved her.

The knowledge he had gained tonight forced him to look back at their relationship through a different lens. He had always considered himself to be an optimist and he tended to give others the benefit of the doubt, habits which gave him a reputation among his friends for being too naive for the harsh reality of adulthood. Tamora was the first person he’d ever met who seemed to admire these traits. While she viewed them with a certain sense of disbelief, he never got the impression that she viewed him as less of a man because of them. Now, he couldn’t help but wonder when she had deduced that he wasn’t capable of making his own decisions. Had it been a lie all along, or had she decided somewhere along the way that he needed to be coddled like a child?

A strange sense of resentment crept in as he walked. He had been alive on this earth for nearly 30 years—he was a grown man, and he could do whatever he wanted with his own life. He didn’t need Tamora or anyone else telling him how to live.

As he neared his hotel, he found himself filled with dread. If he went back to his room now, he would spend the whole night wallowing in self-pity. He didn’t want to call Ralph, because he knew deep down that his friend would agree with Tamora. Back when he and Tamora were seeing each other long-distance, Ralph had made multiple attempts to convince him to stop running himself ragged traveling back and forth. It suddenly dawned on him that Tamora was likely the mastermind behind those conversations, and a new wave of indignation and disbelief overcame him. None of the people he cared most about had ever truly had faith in his ability to look after himself.

An unfamiliar sensation of restlessness rose up within him. Despite the freezing cold, he felt his chest grow hot as his heart rate increased. He clenched his fists, trying his best to shake off this new emotion, but sudden surges of anger coursed through him in spite of his efforts. Never in his life had he experienced the desire to hit something, but now he finally understood it. Something in his gut was telling him he would have the release he so desperately needed if he gave in to the urge.

There were few outlets for this aggression on the sidewalk at night, and he didn't want to cause any trouble. At the end of the street, illuminated by a dim streetlight, was a garbage can—Felix figured that was as good a target as any. For the first time in his life, he allowed himself to give in to his worst instincts. Negative thoughts flooded his mind and he made no effort to brush them off. You're weak. Everyone thinks you're a child. No one sees you as a man, and they never will. His steps quickened, he pulled his right leg behind him and put every ounce of his frustration into dealing a powerful kick to the trash can...

A dull, metallic thud reverberated through the garbage bin as the force of his own blow knocked Felix backward onto the sidewalk. His toes, which had previously been numbed by the cold, were now throbbing in pain, and his tailbone ached from where he had hit the pavement. From his spot on the ground, he was now able to see that the trash can was encased in iron which was firmly rooted to the sidewalk—a factor that would have certainly impacted his decision if he had noticed it sooner. If he wasn't so miserable, it might have been funny. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, a familiar voice sounded from behind him.

"What the hell was that all about?"

Tamora. He closed his eyes in defeat, groaning inwardly. Of course she had just witnessed the most embarrassing thing he had ever done.

"Please tell me you didn't see that."

"I wish I could," she replied, her voice growing louder as she walked closer, "but you and I both know I'm not a very good liar."

She reached under his arms and helped him to his feet. Unable to help himself, Felix let a bit of his unresolved bitterness slip out.

"You seemed perfectly capable when you told me you didn't want to be with me anymore," he said, brushing away her hands as they tried to steady him.

Tamora was grateful that she was positioned behind him so that he couldn't see the impact his words had on her. She had never heard him speak like this before, and there was a sharpness in his tone that caused the words to sting.

"Felix, I'm sorry," she said. "I came after you so we could talk. I don't like the way we left things."

A harsh laugh escaped him.

"I didn't like the way we left things three years ago," he shot back. He whirled around to face her and she was taken aback by the fire in his eyes. "Only I didn't get the courtesy of talking things out with you. You just disappeared from my life and I was left to grapple with that on my own."

“I know you’re upset and I understand, but I—"

"No, I don't think you do understand."

“I know I messed up. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“Tamora, it wasn’t just a lie, you—you broke apart my life. I had built it around you, and then you were just gone. You were gone and I had to figure out what to do when everything in my life revolved around you,” he explained, finally unleashing three years' worth of pent-up hurt. "And that was hard, but now I'm finding out you weren't even being honest with me when you left. I know we weren't always perfect but we were always honest with each other."

She could do nothing but stand by and watch as he poured his heart out to her, acrid words filling the air and burning her lungs like cigarette smoke.

"So now, after three years of coping and working on myself and trying to move on, I'm starting all over, because the truth is that you see me as some kind of child who can't make their own decisions," he continued. "And you were too much of a coward to explain that to me. I always said you were the bravest person I knew, but you were too scared to be honest with someone who loved you more than anything."

He attempted to take a step forward, only to brace himself against the garbage can as the consequences of his reckless actions caught up to him and he found that he could not put any weight on his right foot.

"Felix," Tamora said, trying and failing to hide the hurt look on her face, "let's get you inside so I can take a look at your foot. We can talk about this later."

She reached for him, but he pushed her hands away and stumbled backwards.

"I don't need your help," he said. "I can take care of myself."

This was almost enough for Tamora to resign herself to the fact that their conversation was over. But looking into his eyes, she could see the hurt that was causing him to lash out. It reminded her of herself. More importantly, it reminded her that every time she had ever lashed out at him like this, he opened his arms and his heart to her, giving her endless grace no matter what she threw at him. He was endlessly patient with her, even when he didn't understand. She had always hoped to return the favor someday.

"I know you can take care of yourself," she said, her voice level and calm. "But you're hurt. At least let me help you inside, and then I promise I'll go home and leave you alone. I'm not leaving you out here by yourself."

For the first time since his outburst began, Felix took a deep breath, his anger beginning to falter. As all the spiteful things he had just spewed at Tamora played back in his mind, he was horrified by his behavior. But when he met her gaze, he found a deep sense of understanding that he could not comprehend. She should be furious with him, but here she was, offering her arm to steady him. It took a long moment for him to find his voice again as he accepted her peace offering.

"Thank you."

#hero's cuties #wreck it ralph #sgt calhoun #fix it felix jr #wir fanfiction #my fic #it took me quite some time to figure out what i wanted to accomplish here lol #i don't really think this counts as hurt/comfort it's mostly just hurt sorry everyone #angry felix was a new one for me. he's kinda stupid #but we all do stupid things when we're mad i think

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mr2swap · 2 years

Text

SwapCorp: Headswap in korea part 2

-How the hell am I going to explain this to my boyfriend? -All this was so unreal that I could hardly believe it, before I came to South Korea I had a beautiful, muscular and hot body and now all I have is a huge, watery, and grotesque belly.

I won that all-expenses-paid trip to South Korea sponsored by SwapCorp Gyms, everyone, I knew warned me it was too good to be true and they were right.

When I arrived in the country everything seemed like a dream come true I was greeted by a driver from Swapcorp and even escorted to my 5 stars hote5-started in downtown Seoul, I must have suspected something when they took my cell phone it suddenly disappeared I think that I was too distracted enjoying the city when one of those bastards stole it from me without my realizing it.

The nightmare began when I arrived at the beautiful 5-star hotel. for some reason, the hotel guests seemed really sad, quiet, and even nervous because of the large number of guards in the place. “Here comes another one…” I heard a short, obese man whisper to a skinny, boobless girl as I walked beside her.

I shouldn't have ignored all the red flags that were everywhere because as soon as I walked through the door to my room a bunch of men in hotel uniform rushed at me and injected me with a drug that knocked me unconscious. I was so high that I barely have glimpses of what happened next.

I just remember being in a hospital room and feeling that something was being done to me, everyone was speaking Korean so I couldn't understand what the doctors were saying while they were operating on me, one of the doctors noticed that I was awake so he quickly put me on a mask with some kind of sedative so that I would become unconscious again and after that… I don't remember anything else.

I don't know how long I was unconscious or exactly what they did to me but when I woke up in my hotel bed my body had been stolen from me, instead of hard pectorals I now had fat man's boobs, instead of my six-pack I now had a giant, gelatinous belly, and my huge, hard arms were replaced by 2 meaty, fat-filled garbage bags. This was not my body.

I got up as fast as I could from the bed to go to the bathroom, everything felt so strange with this body I felt weak, slow and I felt so heavy that even walking a couple of meters from the bed to the bathroom made me spill a couple of beads of sweat on my forehead.

I stood in front of the bathroom sink, I saw my new body for the first time and I knew what those SwapCorp bastards had done to me, I still had my face but everything else from the neck down was different, I even shrunk a couple of inches. taken my body and had given me this in exchange, where the hell is my real body? Am I going to have to live like a whale for the rest of my life? I haven't set foot in the hotel gym since I turned into a garbage bag with legs and I spend all my time eating, this new body is so hungry that when I go 2 hours without something to eat I start to get nervous, hungry, and even in a bad mood.

I still have 1 week left in this crappy 5-star hotel, I can't get out I'm stuck here until my "vacation" is over but it's not like I want to leave my room I feel so ashamed of myself that I'm thinking of staying a little longer, I don't know how I'm going to explain all this to my partner. Chances are those bastards at Swapcorp already have it all planned out.

Worst of all is the tiny sausage between my legs now, I can't even lift it when I wake up every morning it's like my libido has been taken away from me along with my body.

-----------------------------

Part 1 here:

-----

It is the continuation of one of my old stories, it was available on Patreon it would be great if you take a look at it or my Patreon page I have a lot of stories you might like if you like my stories!

#bodyswap #body swap #male body swap #body switch

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fanfic-collection · 3 years

Text

Loki x Reader: Apocalypse ch 3

As promised, please comment/like/reblog, anything

rebel4fandom

You begrudgingly left the warmth of your apartment. Thinking of Tony, and his friends that you had known, you knew you were able to do more than just huddle in the warmth of your living space.

The next several hours passed with you stomping through the halls, pounding on doors and seeing if anyone was still inside your building. To your relief, it was empty.

So, bracing against the bitter winds, you stepped outside and into the street, making your way to the next building over. Thus, you continued the process. Eventually, you found a small family, hunkered down in their family room. You pleaded for them to go to one of the shelters and with much persuasion and assurance that Tony Stark thought it was the right thing to do. The Avengers all supported it, after all, you convinced them to bundle up and follow you to brace the cold.

The trek to the shelter was long and arduous. You helped keep the weaker members of the family upright, blocking them from the buffeting wind that whipped through the city streets among the skyscrapers. Abandoned cars lined the streets, some with doors left open and snow piling up inside.

It seemed the snow had stopped today, but the wind still whipped up the snow into flurries, creating near white out conditions. You had your face bundled and had managed to scavenge ski goggles but the people you led were not nearly as lucky, you knew some of them were following you blindly. Some of them were stumbling over garbage, fire hydrants, city decorations, and objects you prayed were not dead bodies.

When at last you finally reached the shelter, the people running the shelter thanked you with a warm drink. They were grateful for more living people, but you knew it was filled to capacity and more mouths to feed meant less supplies for everyone else.

The number of living residents you found each day was quickly dwindling, it was only a week in.

Today as you sat inside the shelter, warming up from your trek, you saw another rescuer leading victims in. The Black Widow herself.

“I’m used to Russian winters but damn.” She said stamping her feet in the entrance to the area, her teeth rattling. “Alright it’s been years, but still.” She was shouting over the howl of the wind.

They ushered her inside, closer to where you were sitting with your mug of hot water.

“Hey, aren’t you Stark’s, uh?”

“Cousin or something, yea.” You nodded, telling her your name and holding your hand out to introduce yourself.

“I remember seeing you around the tower and the compound occasionally.” Natasha nodded, “Nice to see a familiar face.” She smiled at you, lowering her scarf and raising her goggles. “Feel like I’m going to have to crawl into a dead tauntaun out there or something.”

“Star Wars?” You laughed.

She shrugged with a grin. “Hey, anything to stay warm. I don’t really see much of anyone these days, we’re spread out so much trying to see how many people we can save around the world while we have the big guns figuring out what’s causing this.”

“Dr. Strange?”

“Yea, without his infinity stone, he’s a lot weaker.”

You nodded, “Shame about that.”

“I’m not complaining too much.” Nat chuckled weakly.

“Fair point.”

Natasha stretched her arms, “Even this bitter cold reminds me I’m alive.”

“We’re all glad you are.”

“There’s quite a few people that are alive again after that blip that we thought would stay dead.” Natasha said thoughtfully.

You nodded, “Yea, it’s weird how some of our biggest enemies became our friends too. Like what’s his name, Peter Quill? He was enemies with that Nebula girl, and then she became their closest ally, and Gamora vanished but, actually I’m not sure how that worked.”

Natasha shook her head, “Yea, you’d have to ask them.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, “Although, when Thor said his brother sacrificed himself to stop the initial invasion of Thanos?”

You smiled, “I remember him being here for a bit, right?”

Natasha paused then slowly drew out the word, “Yes… He was, wasn’t he?”

“He came here to recover, Asgard didn’t want him, but they gave the Avengers the means to heal him.”

“Just the initial healing, once he could stand, he went back to Asgard. Right?”

“Yea, I talked with him a bit. He really wasn’t what people made him out to be.”

Natasha raised her eyebrow. “Tell that to Clint.”

“I’m not saying Clint shouldn’t hate him, I’m just saying, Loki well, he doesn’t have a silver spoon up his ass like I thought he did.”

Nat quirked her head.

“Some master spy, you think you’d interrogate him and get more out of him. Honestly you seemed to only get what you wanted out of him when you interrogated him.”

“Oh he definitely got in your head, what did he do to you?”

“Nothing!” You held up your hands, “I’m all me. I just, it seems kinda convenient that he talked only about the Hulk and the one thing he gets you to think about is the Hulk. Hardly seems like a stretch that you would draw a conclusion that his plan was about the Hulk.”

Natasha frowned and furrowed her brow, “Are you saying we shouldn’t have trusted Loki and not let them take him back to Asgard and should have kept him weak and in chains?”

You scrambled upright from your relaxed position. “No, no, no! I just, I kept thinking about the interrogation tapes and it seemed really bad spy work.”

Natasha huffed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“I’m going to go look for others, maybe my shoddy work will help elsewhere.” Natasha set down her warm drink and she stalked off.

One of the nearby workers looked at you and shook their head. “Smooth.”

You scowled at them. Downing the last of your drink that it almost scalded your throat, you slammed it on the table and walked out after Natasha, sure to walk in another direction.

When the sun started to get lower in the sky, you hurried back to your apartment. There was no chance of risking being out at night. Any exposure in the dark would be instant hypothermia. Being alone at night was instant death. Thankfully it was still July so the days were longer, and you had more time to get back to your home, but you did not risk any amount of time in the dark.

Getting back to your home you settled back into bed, trying to thaw out and shiver yourself back to life. The heat croaked to life and you looked at the supplies you had collected to sustain yourself. It wasn’t much, but it would keep you going.

Swallowing hard, you turned on the TV and waited to see what news might bring.

A man was being interviewed, some sort of wild animal attack. No. Something else. You recognized Falcon on TV, the new Captain America. He was trying to talk to a survivor in a med unit. The survivor was near catatonic, covered in frost bite and mumbling in horror.

“Get the camera away from him, he’s not gonna talk if you keep shoving that thing in his face.” Sam grumbled.

The camera pulled away but the mic stayed close to Sam.

“Listen, just tell me what happened. Please, this isn’t the first attack, but you’re our first survivor. We need to know what’s happening. You’re ok, I’m Captain America, Falcon, call me Sam, whatever you want, I’m here and I’ll protect you.” Sam bent down and took their bandaged hand in his.

The man stared at Sam blankly, eyes staring into the distance, “They-they,” He stammered, “it… them… those things… they killed my whole family.”

Sam nodded, “I’m so sorry for your loss. Please, anything you remember, what they look like, sound like, anything.”

The man whispered, “Monsters.”

A roar of protests exploded as the press filling the room rushed forward trying to press microphones at Sam and the victim.

You could see the look of exasperation in Sam’s eyes at the press as the victim succumbed to exhaustion, or pain, though you were thankful the heart monitor showed him alive.

Abruptly a gold sparkling circle appeared in the room and the media jumped back in fright. A man you recognized as Dr. Strange stepped out.

“I’m a doctor.” Strange announced. “I’ll be taking over this case.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Everyone out.” Strange dragged out the ‘e’ in everyone.

And then the camera was in a hospital lobby. And you realized you were on your knees in bed, leaning towards the TV trying to know what had just happened, completely bewildered and about a hundred times more frightened.

More than just the cold was killing people?

#Loki x reader #ficbit #reader insert #2nd person pov #fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #Loki #Loki laufeyson #Loki fanfiction #Loki fanfic #Loki x you #no y/n #avengers x reader #multi chapter

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kashi-prompts · 3 years

Text

Flowers For A Shinobi

Chapter 11: Soup

Word Count: 4,670

Pairing: Kakashi x OFC

Previous Chapter ❀ Archive of Our Own Link ❀

A/N: This is fuffy, right? lol

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"I understand," Kakashi nodded, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, picking at the fabric at the inside of his trousers. He remained stagnant with his usual aloof disposition, appearing as though he were disinterested in the conversation between himself and the Hokage. Within him, something stirred uneasily.

"So you'll do it then?" Tsunade questioned pointedly.

"Yes, I'll do it."

"Good," Tsunade looked back down at her paperwork, content with the elite-jonin's tepid response. Her fingers hastily returned to endorsing the stack of documents collecting dust on her desk, her blond pigtail sweeping across her shoulder as she leaned over.

"She's being discharged from the hospital today. I want you to start training her as soon as possible. She's rested enough."

"And if she doesn't want to be a shinobi?"

"Convince her with that charm of yours, Hatake," Tsunade pointed her pen at him, "she has so much potential. It would be a shame to waste it on a flower shop."

Kakashi scratched the back of his head stiffly, pressing the locks of his hair back down to the nape of his neck. Under his mask, his lips pursed, thinking of a counter-argument to present.

"What are you waiting for?" She questioned, cocking an eyebrow as she looked back up at him. "Go talk to her."

Giving up with a respective bow, Kakashi turned on his heel and headed for the door.

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Ayame combed her fingers through her hair, crudely attempting to make it presentable as she stared out her hospital window. The mid-morning sun drifted upwards in the sky, the clouds shielding the village selfishly from its warmth.

Instinctively, her fingers began weaving the strands of her hair into a braid. The act quickly reminded her of when she was younger, where her mother would sit her down and tenderly begin folding the strands to create a tight plait of red locks.

"It's too tight," Ayame would whine, tugging at the braid for her mother to remedy it.

"Pain is beauty," her mother would tell her indifferently, "You need to keep it out of your face while you work! It'll loosen as the day goes on."

It never did loosen, despite her mother's words. Tying off her braid now, she missed having someone else care for her as her mother had. The loneliness of this new village lessened as the years went on, but the underlying longing for her original home crept up on her ever so often. Not so much for the village as it was now, but the way she remembered it. Or maybe it was the people. Or perhaps it wasn't even that - but just the overall sense of duty she had there. At least she was doing something with herself.

Even so, she had left Rōtasuagekure for a reason, and quite sincerely, she reflected, she could never see herself leaving Konoha. Especially now.

"Hana-chan?" a petite nurse asked, popping her head into the small, sterile room.

"Yes?"

"I have your discharge paperwork," the nurse offered. She took a few steps in, observing Ayame already dressed in the same clothes she had come in with.

"Do I just need to sign?"

"Yes, here and here," the nurse indicated, "the doctor said you have recovered well. She really didn't have much to say otherwise."

"I'm feeling much better. Thank you for all your support," Ayame smiled, handing the nurse the pen and clipboard back.

Walking out of the hospital after two weeks left Ayame feeling strange. Almost as though her life had changed, never to return to the way it was before her admission. Her experience on the journey, or mission, rather, resonated in her mind. Looking back, she may not have felt it then, but it was certainly thrilling to be a part of something like that. She thought of the shinobi in the hospital, pleased that she had done something to help them. She examined her feelings towards helping them, remembering how she used to be one of Rōtasuagekure herbalist medics.

The slight chill in the air from two weeks ago had been replaced with a heavy, thick mist that hardly ever reveals itself except for after a cool shower on a hot day. Instantly, the moisture stuck to her skin as she began walking in the direction of her apartment. She breathed deeply, letting the dewy scent on each blade of grass mingle in her nose pleasingly. It was good to be out finally and feeling better.

"Oi, Ayame-chan," she heard.

Her heel skidded against the pavement at the sound of the familiar dull voice. As she turned around, her jade-green eyes settling on a tired-looking masked man. The memory of an unconscious body in the basement of her childhood home suddenly left her reeling. She blinked, watching him walk towards her with his hands that always seemed to be situated deep in the pockets of his uniform.

"Kakashi-san," she smiled, "how are you?"

"I am well," he stopped in front of her, looking down at her from his usual height. His cheekbones lifted in a small smile. A beat passed as her eyes traveled over the worn look in his eye.

"How are you feeling?" Ayame asked, folding her hands together at her waist.

"I'm doing alright," Kakashi admitted, "but more importantly, how are you feeling? Were you just discharged from the hospital?

"I was," Ayame gestured in the direction of the hospital, "I'm feeling better. Thank you. I heard the shinobi are doing better? And the flowers were delivered to Lady Hokage on time."

Kakashi nodded, smiling to himself, "yes. They're all doing much better. Thanks to you."

"I couldn't have done any of that without you," Ayame admitted, shaking her head. "I'm so grateful to have been a part of it."

"You handled your own," Kakashi emphasized assuredly.

Looking over, Kakashi smiled stiffly at her, clearly seeming unsure of himself. Seeing this, Ayame looked away, a few spring leaves floating through the breeze around her.

"I'm sorry I didn't come to see you while you were recovering. I was recuperating myself."

The memory of a pink-haired shinobi Ayame had seen before with Ino crossed her mind at his words.

"Kakashi-sensei carried you back to the village," a blur of pink hair had told Ayame. Her bright green eyes had smiled down at her as she drew Ayame's blood one morning. "You're lucky to be alive. He's a really strong shinobi. He's on the mend as well, but he'll probably be better before you are."

"I heard," she frowned, turning to look back at him. "I'm glad you're doing better, though. But I honestly must apologize for having to have you carry me all the way back here. You should have just left me there. I did my duty."

A light laugh bubbled up in her chest at her own snide comment. His single eye glanced back down at her with a soft gaze and shook his head, "I would have never left you there. You're worth more than that."

The breeze picked up again. Sakura blossoms dancing in the wind around the two of them. The pink tones of their petals were imitative of the fleeting rouge on her freckled cheeks. Noticing, Kakashi shuffled his sandaled foot and looked down the road.

"Were you heading somewhere?" Kakashi asked suddenly, his head tilted.

"I was just heading home," Ayame told him, composing herself.

"Mind if I join?" Kakashi asked, looking down at her with his one eye. A smile crept over her lips that she tried desperately to tame.

"Sure."

Turning on her heel, the two began heading away from Konoha's hospital, passed the mid-afternoon rush of citizens scurrying to grab something to eat before returning to work for the rest of their day. Ayame watched them walk by; the lingering eyes of a few young girls fell on the tall shinobi next to her. She wondered fleetingly if he had a girlfriend or some romantic interest on the side already. Surely, he would have mentioned it. Or an indicator would have arisen at some point.

But then again, Ayame was still unsure. She hadn't even thought of it until this moment. She glanced over at him, his profile straight ahead as they walked together.

She really didn't know much about him at all, she mused. It seemed as though he was still a stranger to her, despite this strange gravity pulling them towards each other. The brief time they had spent together felt more influential than just a day or two of ongoing conversations while they traveled.

"What do you think about living here?" the silver-haired jonin asked abruptly, glancing over at Ayame as she waved kindly to a little girl with a new bouquet from Yamanaka's.

"I love it here," Ayame shared, her voice a hum as she traced a finger along the wooden siding of the Dango shop. "Although I miss home sometimes."

"I can imagine. This wasn't your first home."

"But it is my home," Ayame vowed quietly. The Dango shop owner gave them a wide, knowing grin, offering a few sample pieces of Dango on a skewer. Ayame smiled thankfully, taking the skewer and popping the round treat in her mouth happily.

"Would you like one?" She offered, extending the skewer to him.

"I'm not much of a sweets man," the jonin admitted, lifting a hand to decline. "Plus, the medication they have me on for the amatoxins for my liver makes me pretty queasy lately. I haven't been able to eat much anyway."

Ayame frowned, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"I'll live," he shrugged, watching her toss the empty skewer in a passing garbage bin.

"I would like to talk to you about something," Kakashi said a few beats later. Next to him, Ayame felt a cold shock to her chest. She glanced over at him, his expression seemingly difficult to read with a mask and headband that covered the majority of his face. Despite such, she noticed his dark eye glance over at her to assess her reaction.

"Oh?" Ayame stammered through a chuckle.

"Yes," he nodded, his tone serious, "what do you think it means to be a shinobi?"

Ayame narrowed her eyebrows, looking over at him quizically. She wondered if this was some joke he was playing, asking her this question to see if she understood the importance of his role. But when she looked over at him, his profile remained straight ahead and composed. She, too, had been thinking of this while lying in the hospital bed.

"Well," Ayame began, folding her arms against the breeze as they walked, "I suppose a shinobi's only resolve is to protect the village and those who live within it."

"That's true," he nodded, pausing, "I agree. What do you think about that?"

"About shinobi protecting the village? I think it's important and valuable. Economically, the infrastructure of the village depends on the careers of shinobi to make money. But it is clearly more than that. A shinobi's occupation is valuable to the next generation to have leaders look up to and be protected by. Working for the Yamanaka clan has undoubtedly shed light on all this for me. But I would say, this past month especially strung the understandings together fluently."

She was rambling. When she let out a breath, she expected him to laugh at her wordy response. But when she looked over, he only nodded his head, seemingly appreciative of her narrative.

She continued, "And I'm sure you've created priceless bonds while working. I think, as a shinobi or kunoichi, you first begin learning to hone your own personal, individual skills. But I think it is more of a community effort than an individualistic standpoint. I mean, the village wouldn't run without you all. And those men would have died it not for you. So, as a shinobi, you have to put unity - and self-sacrifice - first. It doesn't seem to ever be about you. But about those around you. To learn to protect everything at any cost. For the sake of others."

"Any cost?"

Ayame looked over at him analytically, unsure of his question. "Yes, with your life."

"Right," Kakashi nodded distantly, his mind far beyond their wanderings over the wooden bridge. Ayame stopped, leaning over the overpass to look down. She noticed a few boys fishing below and stood to watch them for a moment. Kakashi stopped as well, looking up at the clouds above as he came up next to her.

"What made you ask me that?" Ayame questioned, looking over at him.

"I have some special orders," Kakashi said finally, turning to look at her. His elbow rested on the railing. The breeze swept across the side of his face, pushing the thick tufts of grey into his eyes.

Ayame quirked her eyebrow and smirked, "To quiz me on my patriotism to Konoha?"

"Not like that," Kakashi laughed, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm just curious."

She stilled for a moment, feeling the wind in her ringing ears as she looked back down at the boys below. One had caught a red skipper, joyfully showing it off to his friend. The other cheered, dropping his wooden rod in celebration.

"It has been discussed that you have the potential to be quite a powerful kunoichi. The way you handled yourself against Daichi was clear evidence. I would say you have the ability to overcome the injury to your chakra. The more you train, the stronger you'll become."

"I don't think so," Ayame turned away suddenly, leaning over the railing and folding her fingers. What did she want? Her two desires mingled together, mudding themselves in her mind.

"I don't know, actually. It's not as though I grew up using my jutsu as you all did. I don't even have the proper academy background as even the youngest shinobi in this village have."

"Do you want to know what I think?" Ayame looked over at him again. His eyebrows shifted to his hairline, and the fabric around his mouth bunched into a smirk.

"I suppose you're going to tell me anyway, huh?" Ayame chuckled easily.

"I'm not forcing you to do anything," Kakashi began, leaning his elbow against the railing to look at her. "No one is. But you seem to appreciate the dedication and work it takes to become a shinobi. And what it stands for. I would give my life for those in the village. And everything about the way you handled yourself on this last mission tells me you would do the same, even if you don't know it yet."

Ayame nodded her head, looking out at the skipping fish. Another breeze brushed her flyaways from her hairline.

"I know. I understand. So I take it your orders are to recruit me?"

"No," Kakashi hesitated, "my orders are to train you."

"Train me?" Ayame turned, looking at him surprised and skeptical.

"If you want," Kakashi lifted his hands defensively with a smile. "I am a fairly notable sensei."

Ayame laughed again tenderly, placing her chin in her hand as she looked out over the horizon. She could feel his eyes on her, his elbow leaning coolly over the railing to face her.

"Can I think about it?" Ayame asked, glancing at him.

"Of course. I don't expect you to drop your life as it is and join a risky occupation like mine."

"I'm not sure if I want to join your cult," Ayame farced, smirking at him from the side. She heard him chuckle next to her, looking out at the river below. The breathy sounds of his laughter she had evoked caused a ripple of satisfaction to fade slowly into her skin. She smiled, sighing.

Ayame stood up straight, turning to him. The wind rattled his hair more, transforming it into more of a chaotic mess than it already was. She folded her hands at her waist, considering his last comment. She had thought about it endlessly in the previous two weeks, so his sudden request to have her train with him certainly shocked her.

"Don't doubt yourself," he added unexpectedly. She scoffed playfully, feigning confidence and turning her head away to hide her burning ears. When she looked back, his eye had transformed into a crescent moon, a genuine smile dancing across his cheekbones.

"I wouldn't have agreed to any of this if I didn't think there was a reasonable chance of you being a skilled kunoichi," Kakashi admitted, "trust me on that. You've proven yourself."

Ayame folded her arms again, another gust of sakura blooms rushing past them. She watched them land in the river, floating past the boys who returned to fishing for their next meal.

"Thank you," Ayame said finally. "I will think about it. And let you know."

Kakashi nodded his head, a smile hidden under the fabric of his mask.

"Well, I'm right over there," he pointed, a round blue apartment complex across the river. "If you need anything, just come here. I can see the bridge from my window."

As he walked around her, Ayame looked over at the tiny apartment building and considered his response. Just come here.

"And Ayame?"

She turned, surprised he was still even near her as her mind had begun to wander. Walking backward, he shoved his hands back in his pockets.

"Although I'm not exactly happy with the way you administered the antidote in the cache, thank you for saving me."

Her top teeth tried to tame the grin that crept across her lips. She rolled her eyes at him, "had I known you'd try to recruit me, I should have left you there."

"I doubt it," he winked.

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Beyond the gates of Konoha, deep within the Land of Lotus' muddied grounds, a pair of green eyes stared sharply at his work. Three vials of a glowing blue aura dripped slowly from a tube that traveled into the cracked ceiling above. He stacked two fists on top of one another on the desk, placing his chin in them to watch the liquid.

Drip, drip, drip.

The contents of the vials barely grew. The man grumbled to himself, shaking his head in disgust.

"I can't believe Daichi's gone," the green-eyed man sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. The room was no larger than a closet, with a metal desk placed in front of the man. A foul stench enveloped the room.

In a bed next to him, a woman with locks of blond, grimy hair laid placid against the pillow, throwing an apple in the air and catching it.

"Doesn't matter anymore," the girl said curtly, "He was arrogant and careless. He should have just ransacked the place, gotten the scroll, and came back."

"I should have never trusted him," the man said gruffly, "I should have just done it myself."

"Then she would have seen you," the blond pointed out, taking a bite of the apple.

"I don't care," the man stood, his soiled feet kicking the chair in disgust. "Better than her getting that scroll. I should have gotten the scroll first and then deployed everything. How senseless I am. Now look at this; we barely have anything."

He gestured to the vials on the chrome table and sighed heavily.

"Can't predict the future," the girl reminded him coolly with a mouth full of apple.

"But we can change it."

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The dark side of the moon tilted in the sky, its crescent shadow illuminating a golden sickle that threw off surprising light. The heavy breeze from earlier that day remained. The humidity level elevated.

A tuft of silver hair laid under a comforter embroidered with green shuriken. One eye remained open, staring at the tiled ceiling above. His stomach growled uncomfortably, causing a sigh to escape from him. Lifting a hand, the jonin slid it through his hair restlessly.

What had he done? How could he have recruited this girl to become a shinobi when it wasn't even her choice in the first place. Things were changing, indeed. Not everyone was destined to be a shinobi from birth.

A strong sense of guilt mounted in his chest, making the origin of his nausea unclear as to whether it was from his medication or the nagging feeling that he could be responsible for another lost person in this world if she were to enlist. It wasn't that he didn't trust himself to train her properly. But the what-if certainly stirred a sense of anxiety in him that was very unlike him.

Everyone he knew and cared for was a shinobi. Why did it bother him now?

Get ahold of yourself, he groaned to himself. It’s not your responsibility and you have orders.

Another sigh escaped from his lips as he swung the blanket off of him. In the window behind his bed, he observed the heavy moon in the sky, its contents decorating the pavement and river below in a soft glow. A breeze flew in his cracked window, tickling his nose with a familiar scent. A mixture of the grime from the river and the pleasant aroma of lavender blended in his overly sensitive nose. His eyebrows came together in confusion.

A lot of things smell of flowers, he reminded himself coarsely.

And yet, standing on the bridge was Ayame, her arms bundled tightly around a white sack that she held close to her chest. Frowning, he watched her for a moment, unsure if he was seeing her correctly. But the unmistakable scent of her freshly cleaned and braided hair caused his stomach to knot. Was she here for him? Or was she just going for a walk? At this time of night?

Looking over at the clock, Kakashi noted the time. It was nearly 11:00, and he couldn't help but wonder what she was doing. Regardless of if she was here for him or not, he decided to see if she was alright. Blinking once more, he watched her lean against the bridge with the bundle in her hands. Her head tilted towards his building.

She is here for me.

The breeze picked up, and the sakura flowers from earlier drifted across her view as her eyes unmistakably scanned his blue building.

Throwing his jacket and sandals on, he quickly flew down the steps and out the door of his apartment building. This may not be the perfect time to tell her, but he had to. He couldn't let her join. He couldn't bear to watch an innocent person become a warrior. Of course, she had potential, but ultimately it should be her decision to join. He had tried to keep his words neutral, but the dialogue in his head from earlier twisted itself to make him believe he could have skewed her decision.

Get. ahold. of. yourself, he told himself angrily.

His swift gait quickly replaced itself with the usual casual stride his legs typically paced themselves at. Absently, he shoved his hands in his pockets and trudged forward over the bridge towards the young girl.

"Ayame?"

Turning her head, he caught another intoxicating wif of the scented shampoo that clung to her hair. She smiled immediately as her eyes rested on him as he walked towards her.

"Kakashi-san," she greeted, the audible noise of his name on her tongue sounded like a content sigh. The sound tickled his already queasy stomach.

"Why are you out so late?" he asked quizzically, leaning against the railing himself. He glanced down at the bundle against her chest, and she smiled, standing up.

"I made you some soup," she stood, pushing a container wrapped in a white cloth forward. He looked down, thankful for the darkness surrounding them as he felt blood rush to his cheeks.

He tilted his head quizzically, unsure of how to respond to the kind gesture.

"You said you were nauseous," she explained quickly, waiting for him to take the parcel. "So I pulled together some soup when I got home. It's an old recipe my grandmother used to make for us when we were sick. It always helped me feel better. I hope it hel-"

"Thank you," Kakashi replied gratefully, taking the bundle. It was still warm in his hands. The gesture stunned him, and the warmth of the soup in his hands radiated through his entire body. Momentarily, he forgot what he had intended to tell her.

"I appreciate this," he held the parcel up, the silence growing awkward as he collected his thoughts.

"You're welcome," Ayame smiled at him.

Were her cheeks red as well? Oh god, he thought. He couldn't do this.

"Ayame, I wanted to talk to you about our conversation earlier," Kakashi began hesitantly. Her expression changed.

"Yes, I wanted to speak with you as well."

"You first, then," he offered, shifting his weight to his other foot.

He expected her to say no. To say she didn't want to join and instead remain an anonymous citizen of Konoha, utilizing her Kekkei Genkai as a means of generating precious flowers for the Yamanaka Flower Shop. He expected her to say, "thank you for the offer, but I decline," and then to walk away from him, only to pass by him at different times on the street in the near future.

"I think I'll do it," is what she told him instead. "I want to protect the village. I don't want anyone to go through what I went through or what those shinobi went through this week."

Kakashi blinked, blindsided by this woman yet again in less than 5 minutes.

"You do?" he asked, feeling his finger twitch nervously against his bundle of soup.

"I was thinking about it while I was hospitalized, to be honest with you," she admitted, looking away, "I didn't want to mention it. I also didn't think it was a possibility. I figured you had to be born here or something. But you said you had orders?"

Kakashi nodded, looking above her head as he processed her words. The image of his dream crossed his mind. The uncomfortable feeling of not being in control crept up his spine. He shook his head, composing himself.

"I do," he confessed with a nod, "from the Hokage."

Ayame blinked, clearly taken aback by his words. "The Hokage wants me to join her shinobi army?" She asked incredulously, her voice teetering on laughter.

Kakashi let his bones relax as she laughed, "she said you have potential."

Ayame paused, folding her arms loosely around her torso, "well, that's the highest compliment I've ever received. But what was it that you want to talk about?"

"Oh," he shrugged, "It's nothing. I just - as long as you are comfortable and understand-"

"I understand," she interrupted. He narrowed his eyebrows, surprised again by her definite tone. Her eyes glistened as she stared back at him.

Realizing, she replied, "I've weighed the pros and cons of it for two weeks in a hospital bed. I know what you are referring to. A shinobi's life cannot be easy. But I wouldn't say yes if I didn't think it was worth it. I couldn't protect my brother or my family. So I want to protect Konoha."

She waited for his response, her eyes tracing the line of his mask that hugged his cheekbones.

A smile crept over his lips as he bobbed his silver head in a nod, seemingly content with her response. Crickets sang in the brush below them, filling the void of silence. Her response eased the tension in his shoulders as he looked back down at her.

"Then we start tomorrow," he told her abruptly. "Meet me here at dawn."

"But it's nearly 11:30!" she protested, her lips twitching as she guffawed at him. "That is barely enough time for a good night's sleep."

Kakashi turned on his heel, raising his eyebrows in delight at her reaction. He chuckled to himself as he held the soup against his chest, walking away.

"Should have thought of that before you came here so late then!"

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A/N: Hello all! Thank you for reading. It really means a lot to me. I have been in a pretty dark situation/headspace lately and planning out and writing this fic has really helped me. Watching your story come together and seeing people enjoy it is an immense confidence booster. So I appreciate you all. I’ll be writing prompts in between too! <3

#Kakashi #hatake kakashi #Kakashi Hatake #kakashi x ofc #kakashi imagine #kakashi x original character #kakashi x original female character #kakashi/original character #kakashi/original female character #self-indulgent fluff #I love random fluff #i love them together #please #you don't understand #I can't wait #naruto fanfiction #Naruto Shippuden #naruto fandom

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nightwingshero · 3 years

Note

12-23 all your Far Cry OCs ! 🥰

Thank you, love!!! This may have gotten a bit long...I have a lot of OCs for Far Cry, don’t @ me.

12. What OCs would have a chugging competition?

That’s an excellent question, and I think a better one would be who wouldn’t. Rowan, Grayson, Wren, Jane, and Randy are definitely the top contenders for that. Ivy would be a bit taken aback by it, and then politely decline. Whitney and Quinn...Whit would silently judge while also wishing that was her. Quinn is...he’s on the fence, I think that depends. Because he likes rooting for it, watching it, and laughing at them making fools of themselves, but if challenged, he won’t hesitate, and I think Mel would be in the same boat, but she’s less likely to rise to the challenge...she’s too uh...laid back to really feel competitive. Now, as for the kids go, it would be between Emmett, Freya, and Harper. It would start as a back and forth between Emmett and Freya, which would just pull Harper in with it as Braxton and Ana watch warily and Emmie is laughing her ass off.

13. What OCs would arm wrestle? Who would win?

Randy, Wren, Rowan, Jane, and Quinn. Hands down (see what I did there?). Jane would only do it if provoked, in any other situation, she’s rolling her eyes in the corner and calling them idiots. Randy would obviously win, though it’s a good go with Quinn...and Quinn would honestly let Wren win. He’s trying to impress her, you know? Rowan won’t get off that easily, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Girl can hold her own. If it’s the kids, Emmett and Freya, all day long. Freya is just like her mother, and she’s so damn quick to rise to a challenge, and Emmett is a cocky little shit.

14. Who would jump off the roof into a pool and who would video it?

Okay...this is probably something that’s going down at Whit’s house. And I’m telling you right now, Randy and Grayson are the first to go, quickly (and I mean quickly) followed by Jane, because she’s not going to be showed up by them at all (Grayson said something rile her up). Whitney is freaking the hell out, insisting someone is going to get hurt. Wren is videoing it because there’s no way in hell it’s not going on YouTube. Ro and Mel are actually scoring it. Ivy is trying really hard to ignore it, she got one day off and might have to play doctor anyway. It was Quinn’s idea...he just made it seem like Grayson’s and he’s enjoying the result of it while drinking an ice cold beer (he prefers vodka, but Whit didn’t have that...so she claims).

15.What OC nicknames everyone?

They all do, honestly. My Scooby Gang are a bunch of just...sarcastic assholes and sweethearts. Grayson and Ivy might be the only ones that don’t. Jane is called Viking Princess most of the time by Wren, and Randy is Lumberjack Steve. Quinn is Blondie from time to time, Wren will call him Hot Shot, too. Randy will call him “Cap” in reference to Captain America (Quinn’s favorite superhero) and with him being a Security Captain. Rowan is playfully dubbed Huntress or Bambi, depending on who you’re talking to. But Jane calls her Robin Hood or just asshole. Grayson is just...Gray. No one really has a nickname for him, except for Quinn, who calls him Speedy from his background (which Randy then tells them the story of Wren nearly driving them off a cliff). Whitney is either Mom (sarcastically, of course), Miss America, Goody Two Shoes, or just Whit. And Whitney just...calls everyone hun, darlin’, sweetheart, sweetie, dear, etc. If she’s feeling extra fiesty, she’ll give an actual sarcastic nickname (she calls Cooper cowboy and lone ranger though).

16. Who makes the plan, who follows the plan and who knows the plan is going to fail?

Making the plan consists of: Rowan, Quinn, and Randy. Ivy, Whit, and Wren are gonna follow it, and...well, Jane and Gray are gonna say “this is a stupid idea”. I honestly picuture it being that scene from Infinity War. Tony would be Rowan and Randy. Peter Quill would be Quinn. Draxx would be Grayson and Jane, Mantis is Whit and Mel. Wren is Peter Parker, and Ivy is Dr. Strange. Ivy was looking forward in time, watching every scenario in which she dies surrounded by idiots. I mean...this scene is literally just them in New Dawn.

17. Who brings a surplus amount of silly string to a party?

Wren and Mel. Mostly because it’s probably a prank to ruin Whit’s perfect hair. It takes her forever to get it out due to the hairspray, but it was worth it. Jane recorded it so she can relive the screams.

18. Who goes crazy over glow sticks?

Wren, Mel, and Randy! They love them. When they get wasted or high, they do this (its at 3:20, but seriously...watch it...because there isn’t a Brendon Urie vine that doesn’t embody one of my OCs...plus, he’s hilarious). But I could see them doing some sort of glow stick party.

19. What is your OCs favourite game to play together?

Monopoly (Jane and Quinn are scary good at it), Just Dance, Cards Against Humanity, and Heads Up. Most of them end up in hilarious fights and yelling/laughing together...because they drink when they play.

20. What OC has no directional compass yet still leads the group?

W H I T N E Y. Listen, I could literally hear the whole fucking group just collectively groan. She will swear she knows where she’s going and pretty much takes charge, even though she has no clue. But they follow anyway...so who’s really at fault here?

21. Who would pose beside a garbage can to take a picture to caption it ‘me’ later?

Wren, Grayson, and Randy. They would laugh while doing it, but Whitney would text back or show up at their house like “Sweetie, are you okay?” with cookies or some shit. Rowan is sure of herself and Mel is at peace with who she is. Quinn, Whit, Ivy, and Jane love themselves too much for that.

22. What poses do the squad like to do when taking a group photo?

Oh. My. GODDDDD. Listen, they’re always doing stupid shit, even if Whit is demanding something serious. Whit will smile with Ivy while the others are doing bunny ears, carrying each other, climbing on each other, or doing other stupid shit. Lots of kisses on the cheek, piggy back rides, “sexy” poses, and just...they never take it seriously. Whit has one (1) good photo.

23. What concert would your OCs all go to together and why that concert?

Arctic Monkeys, Queen, Lorde, or Taylor Swift, but it’ll most likely be Queen or Taylor Swift. Grayson has a huge crush on Adam Lambert, and who doesn’t love the music? And Randy knows all the words to Shake It Off and You Need to Calm Down is the group’s like....unspoken song...so...yeah, they’re going.

#oc: wren blake #oc: rowan palmer #oc: randy miller #oc: jane williams #oc: whitney seed #oc: ivy young #oc: melanie young #oc: grayson blake #oc: quinn langdon #my ocs #asks #far cry 5 #far cry new dawn #strafethesesinners

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susiequaz12 · 4 years

Text

Carrot Top- 6: Howe

Alright, here it is! This one is arguably less whumpy, with a little comfort (cause heaven knows Andrew needs some comfort). I ended up splitting this in half with a different part that I’ll probs post soon cause it’s already edited.

Some world background stuff that I’ll address again- There’s a genetically modified group of people called peculiari that are born with enhanced genetic abilities. There are four main groups: Shapeshifter, Superhuman, Nature Bender, and Mind Reader. Andrew is a shapeshifter. I introduce a Nature Bender briefly here, but that character will probs become kinda important later on.

Tags: @imagination1reality0, @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi, and @thehopelessopus

CW: medical references, needles (an iv), blood, throwing up, restraints, stitches, treating wounds, mention and descriptions of injuries.

- - -

Andrew woke up on fire.

Every ounce of his body burned with each shifted breath and jostled movement.

He quickly realized he couldn’t move very much though. His hands felt free, but at the attempt of pulling his knees to his chest, he realized his ankles were secured with straps, keeping him tied to a- a bed?

No, he thought. It wasn’t comfortable enough to be a bed, but not uncomfortable enough to be a table or cot of some sorts. It was somewhere in between, like, like a medical bed. One that you’d find in a hospital, or an examination room.

The first few seconds he came into full consciousness were filled with panic. He didn’t know where he was, or where he had been. All that registered in his mind was pain. Red hot- searing and cold blue- aching, pain.

A soft hand came atop his chest, pulling a blanket back over him that he didn’t know he’d knocked loose, shushing him gently, pushing him back down to the bed.

“Hey now, you’ve been through quite the ordeal, just breathe for me. You’re gonna be fine.”

Andrew’s eyes barely registered the man that the words were coming from. His vision swimmed in his head as the shapes and figures around him were fuzzy. Nothing clear, but not unidentifiable. An instant wave of relief washed over him as he realized the man wasn’t Splice. He was- a- a doctor.

Doctors are safe.

Doctors are supposed to help people.

Maybe he’d been rescued, put in a hospital, and Ali and Justin were waiting outside until they could come in to visit. Yeah, that was it. This was all just a nightmare.

But doctors don’t tie non-dangerous patients down to the bed.

So either he was in a real hospital, and they discovered his powers and thought he was dangerous, or he was still here. With Splice.

Andrew didn’t like either of those options.

The doctor grabbed his arm in a gentle hand, and as he pulled it away from him, Andrew noticed the IV, and the tubes and cables connecting him to various machines in the room. The man uncapped a vial and inserted an unfamiliar liquid into the IV, his eyes scanning the tube as the liquid slid through, and into his system.

He placed his limb back onto the bed, and then a cautious arm wrapped underneath Andrew’s lower back, lifting him up and forward.

Andrew winced and groaned out at the pressure put on his back.

“Hey now, it’s okay. I just gotta redress these bandages. You can go back to sleep once I’m done. It won’t take long.”

The blanket fell around his lap and he looked down at his stomach, seeing rows and rows of white, medical bandages, blending in with his pale skin. His eyes then went to his wrists, where dark bruises were starting to form from where the restraints had dug into them for so long. He had no doubt that there were some to match on his ankles.

He didn’t even want to imagine what his body looked like underneath the bandages.

The doctor sat on a rolling stool by the bed and started to undress the bandages, carefully pulling away the blood-soaked fabric. As his hands brushed across the markings, Andrew couldn’t help the shiver that took his body. He expected more pain to come at the touch, but there was just a dull, thudding ache across his body. That thudding ache echoed behind his eyes from hours of crying, and straining to see without his glasses.

After a few minutes the bandages laid in a pile on the floor to be scooped into the garbage can across the room. Andrew’s eyes glanced down. He saw the array of red, spattered amidst the white strips, and then his eyes traveled to his chest, where the blood originated. Oozing out of the cuts and slashes down his torso in a slow and steady crawl. If that wasn’t enough to set his stomach in motion, the bruises and the welts that crawled all over his chest and limbs surely would be.

The doctor quickly noticed the lurching that came from Andrew’s stomach, and rushed across the room to grab the garbage can before holding it underneath his head. However, there was nothing to throw up but more water and fluids. His body then decided to try and hack out his lungs as well. It was as if they were a poison, a toxin that his body needed to get rid of. He dry-heaved, tears streaming down his face as he couldn’t breathe, the sobs and coughs wracking through every limb as he choked and sputtered to try and get his body under control.

The doctor kept a firm, but gentle hand on Andrew’s back, as he hacked his lungs out, before finally settling down to some slight wheezing. His body would’ve collapsed back into the bed if not for the hand holding him upright.

“You always throw up at the sight of blood, or was this just a special occasion?”

Andrew wheezed out a reply, surprised at how raspy and broken his voice sounded. “No- only when it- when it’s mine.”

There was silence for a few minutes as the doctor scrambled around the cart of supplies, before pulling out a jar of what looked to be some sort of ointment or cream. He proceeded to clean the cuts and welts from the beating with a rag and disinfectant, before applying the ointment and wrapping him up again.

“My name’s Howe.”

Andrew raised his head in a response, eyes glancing to the Doctor. He seemed young. Like he could be fresh out of college, not any older than 25.

He gestured towards himself with the bottle of cream in one hand, gloved fingers applying it with the other. “I’m a Nature bender. I deal with plants mostly. Natural remedies, ointments, as well as your regular medical stuff of course.” Andrew felt the cold ointment against his back, before the doctor- Howe- moved to his chest. The mixture was pale green, smelling vaguely of mint and some sort of forest.

“This is my own recipe, I’m pretty proud of it. It’s meant to soothe, so it’s good for irritated skin or rashes, but it also prevents infection from entering the body, while helping the skin regrow and heal faster.”

“Wow.” Was all Andrew managed to breath out. It did feel incredibly relaxing. Soothing- like he was in a spa. He could take a whole bath in the stuff.

Howe laid it on thicker where the whip had met his flesh, and where Splice had carved with his knife. His skin had been rubbed raw from the ropes, so by the time they had finished, nearly the whole bottle of cream had been used up.

“I tell you all this to ease your nerves.” Howe began to say. “So you know that I’m a real doctor. I graduated from medical school just a year ago before being…uhh- hired. I’m not just one of those people in a lab coat that Splice has to run his experiments and tests or whatever.”

Before Andrew could ask any questions, he was laid back down and tucked underneath the blanket.

“Now I just need to check that hand again, see how it’s doing and you’ll be good to go back to sleep okay?”

Andrew nodded. He felt tired, the soothing ointment working through his body mixed with painkillers made him feel strangely relaxed.

Everything that happened instantly came back to him when Howe started to unwrap the bandages on his hand. Andrew tried to pull it back towards him, shield it close to his chest.

“Hey, hey, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Howe stated, keeping a firm grip around Andrew’s wrist. “I just gotta check up on those stitches I gave you, make sure it’s all still clean and then I’ll bandage it right back up. Promise.”

As soon as the bandages fell away, Andrew’s eyes fell to his lap. He didn’t know if he wanted to look at it. If he even could look at it.

He realized he hadn’t attempted to move the hand since it had happened. It had just hung there limp. So he was grateful when he felt the cold touch of Howe’s hand, as his fingers brushed gently across his palm and around his fingers.

He caught a glimpse, and it thankfully didn’t look as bad as he thought. The wound was clean. The marking from the knife only marred by rows of stitches holding the skin closed tightly. It was raw, and red and irritated, but other than that, it didn’t look too terrible.

Andrew was scared to ask, but he needed to know.

“Is- is it gonna be okay?” The doctor glanced up. “My- my hand. Is it gonna be okay?”

Howe deflected the question, looking back down again.

“Do you feel this?” Howe trailed a finger up and down the side of Andrew’s thumb. The boy nodded. “Can you wiggle your finger for me?”

Andrew tried, but all he managed to do was get a slight twitch, barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for it. The boy tried to slow down the panic that was rising in his chest. He tried to wiggle a finger again, but all he managed to do with his efforts was send new spikes of pain shooting through his hand. He hissed through his teeth, groaning from pain and frustration.

“Not yet.” Howe stated. “Give it some time to heal. It’ll be stiff for a long time, but if you work at it slowly, you should regain most of the normal function.”

“Most?” Howe released his hand back to him with the clean bandages, Andrew pulled it tightly to his chest. “What do you mean most? Wait…”

Howe pushed him back down onto the bed, placing the blanket over him. “You suffered pretty severe damage to the nerves, tendons, and blood vessels in your palm. I managed to reconnect as many as I could given the circumstances, but it’ll take a long time to heal. We won’t know how much function you will actually have until much later. For now, all you can do is rest.”

Andrew wanted to ask many, many more questions, but he was incredibly tired. Even being awake for just a few minutes had wore him down. His body sank into the bed, and right as he started drifting to unconsciousness, a familiar figure walked into the room.

“Hey carrot top!”

#whump #medical whump #treating wounds #oc #original writing #carrot top #stitches #bandaging wounds

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love-and-anarchy-au · 3 years

Text

Love & Anarchy: Chapter 27

heyy, how you doin? i’m going through a rough writer's block, so i'm pretty dismotivated :') anyways, i have nothing to say about this chapter as it just is xd. have a nice week and enjoy this chapter <3

REMEMBER THIS AU HAPPENS IN THE SAME UNIVERSE THAT THIS ONE

Find out what this AU is about here

Masterlist

Tag list: @healing-winston-pratt @honey-hippie-harper @obsidianfr3sk @nodrianbcyes @everyone-has-a-nightmare @redassassin @magykaldealings @cerenoya @cassin-the-assasin @cindersnightmare

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Words

23,222

Part 3: A man named Ace Anarchy

17 years old Ace - Age of Anarchy Year 0

“I can’t believe we’ve done this.”

“Well, I do.”

Margot hit Henry.

“When will Leroy and Honey come back?” Carrie asked, as she made tea and coffee with Bruce in the kitchen.

“I have not even the slightest idea,” replied Ace, who was reading the book James had lent him, on the couch. He didn't have much to do but wait, so he had sat down to read. However, he could tell when someone requested his attention, so he put the book aside and took the cups that Carrie and Bruce had, with his invisible hands. He distributed them throughout the room, although now they were all in the living room. Coffee for everyone except Carrie and Ace, who were drinking tea this time. He didn’t need more stimulus, but to calm down.

They were at James Roselo's apartment, waiting for Honey and Leroy to arrive with news from the city. Gatlon was a mess, succumbed to an impressive social earthquake and the biggest crisis it had ever experienced. The news channels were all cut off, given that, after the Anarchists had taken the most watched channel to announce they mayor’s assasination, other people had taken their example and started looting the buildings to the fullest extent (in addition, the regular civilians were very scared to go out, practically nobody went out to work). Every day more sirens and more police and even military were heard, but the rebels were too many and, also, they were prodigies.

They had no chance against them and their abilities.

Ace knew that.

He had always known.

That's why he was so calm, so relaxed, sitting cross-legged in the leather chair, his helmet hugged by his right arm, and his mental hands holding his cup of tea, waiting for Honey and Leroy to return from their search for news (it was the only way to know what was happening: go to the place of the possible events or where there were informants and/or witnesses of the event of interest to the Anarchists).

All but Margot and Ace (who were the only ones staying far from the riots, since powers of such magnitude were not required), were looking like a mess or with traces of foreign blood on their skins. Carrie's hair was disheveled, outside of her ponytail, and her boots were stained with brown scabs (Ace preferred not to know if it was blood or mud; his senses said it was blood but to his eyes it looked like dry mud). Henry and Bruce, meanwhile, were full of white powder that seemed to be indelible; they were tangible and living ghosts. They hadn't had a minute to shower or to clean themselves, nor did they want to, so there they were, sipping hot drinks and waiting for their Anarchists brothers to arrive.

Suddenly, the door to the apartment was thrown open, giving way to two even more tatty beings.

“Oh God,” Carrie sighed and she instantly went into the hallway looking for something.

Honey Harper and Leroy Flinn looked like soldiers who had been through the worst battles and lost them all. Honey's dress was ripped, her leg was bleeding, her hair was disheveled in a blonde aura; a hive full of buzzing bees. She was hanging on to Leroy, who didn't have much to brag about either: one of his teeth were missing (Ace could see the gap between his gasps), and his robe had been snipped to death. They were falling apart like ancient buildings under the advance of modern society.

Ace jumped up to help them and closed the door with his powers; no one could see them, otherwise they would report them and they would come looking for them (an ambush was always a disadvantage, no matter how powerful those surprised were). Henry and Margot ran from the blow of the armchairs and went in search of what Carrie had already gone looking for.

“Oh no, what happened?” Henry asked, kneeling to look at Honey.

She shot him an angry look, despite her collapse.

“Guess.”

Leroy gasped and fell to his knees to the ground, rendered like a soldier who knew he had lost the war. Ace rearranged the individual chairs to return a stretcher for the boy. He grabbed him below the knees and under the armpits (with the help of his powers, which were pulling at his clothes), and laid him on the makeshift stretcher. Leroy was breathing through his mouth, and his eyes were closed, as if reality were too much agony for him.

“They recognized us,” he replied to Henry's question. Margot groaned.

“Of course they did.”

Carrie, who had returned from looking for a first aid kit, grabbed Margot’s hands and put a bottle of ethyl alcohol between them.

“Collaborate,” she commanded, in her soft voice.

Margot grunted again and went to assist Honey, even though she was already being assisted by Bruce, who had cleaned his dusty hands to do that.

Ace leaned in to clearly see what was going on. He lifted the couch with his powers and placed it at the level of his hips, for comfort. He had no idea about laughter or medicine, but neither could they call a doctor (a civilian who was not a prodigy would want to help someone who was destroying a society that favored them, for sure) so it would be necessary to improvise.

“What shall we do?” Ace asked Bruce, who seemed to be the one who knew the most.

Bruce looked at him, depressed.

“Well… ummm… let's cut Honey’s dress in order to be able to clean and sew the wound properly.”

Ace nodded and used his imaginary hands as scissors. With an acceptable precision, he cut a rectangle of cloth that used to be yellow (now it was red and black) that covered Honey's wound on her thigh. Wasting no more time and without disgust, he used his real hands to put pressure on the wound and prevent her from bleeding even more.

That was the only thing he knew about medicine and he already had his hands stained with blood from before.

Bruce took the ethyl alcohol from Margot's hands and the cotton that Carrie had in the first aid kit. He moistened the cotton with a little bit and began to clean the wound after he asked Ace to stop putting pressure there, very careful not to hurt Honey, though it was useless, as she cursed under her breath anyway. All of them but Henry, who was assisting Leroy, gazed at the wound, only to become pale when it was partially cleared and showed all its deadly potential.

Ace might not know anything about medicine, but he knew that this wound was serious.

Bruce bit his lip.

“Sister, what happened?” Carrie asked and took her sister's hand. Honey didn't reject her (there was no point in expending effort rejecting affection while you were bleeding to death).

“I… I don't know. It happened so fast… we were going back to Leroy’s lab to pick up some stuff he needed and then we would search for some news but… they found us. They were waiting for us, they tried to arrest us, it went wrong. There weren’t only cops but also prodigies and citizens that hated us… everyone started shooting and the last thing I knew is that I had been hurt.”

Margot, who had moved away from her as soon as she saw Honey's wound and was handing Leroy an ice pack to ease her bruising, commented:

“If they know who we are, then they know where we live.”

Ace nodded.

“We’ll have to find somewhere to live.”

Henry frowned.

“Weren’t we living here?”

Ace denied, though what Henry had just said was true (they were living there, but the apartment was quite uncomfortable for seven people that were the most wanted by the goverment). He moved away from Honey since Bruce seemed to have everything under control and approached the table, to clear it in a blink of an eye; all the weapons, food dishes and other garbage went to its place. Once the table was cleared, he took a map out of his pocket. He spread it on the table; he took up all of his space. Margot left Leroy to see what the table was.

“Nice, are we renting a property? I'm sure anyone would be pleased to sell us an apartment,” she joked sarcastically. Honey laughed from her gurney, though it cost her a groan of pain.

Ace looked at Margot with a raised eyebrow.

“Now that we are an organization, we must have a place where to live and organize everything we will do, as this isn’t over. I’ve exhaustively analyzed all of Gatlon’s tall buildings and got to the conclusion that the best place for us to have our headquarters, is here.”

He pointed a finger at the point marked on the map, and showed it to the others.

Margot didn't loosen her brow.

“Gatlon City’s Cathedral? What are we, Anarchists In the Name of God?”

Henry bit back a laugh. Ace smirked.

“No, Margot my dear, we are the gods, and we deserve our own cathedral,” he replied and earned a smile from Margot. He continued presenting the arguments, “Gatlon's Cathedral is the perfect place for us to be safe: it has a bell tower higher than the buildings around, it's in downtown’s limits and the beginning of the suburbs. It’s also next to the highway that limits Gatlon. We’ll see every enemy coming and leaving, every prodigy that wants to help, and it's big enough for us to do anything we please without bothering each other.”

Henry took a notebook out of his pocket.

“You should be a real-stater, not a revolutionary.”

Laugh, Ace; showing humanity to your mates will make you earn their affection and loyalty.

He allowed himself to laugh. It sounded strange in his mouth, after having spent so much time without laughing like that.

For the others too, because they looked at him in surprise (except Margot, who was looking at him with a subtle smile).

“Do you agree?” requested Ace, seeking the approval of his peers. Henry shrugged.

“I guess. Sounds cool.”

Carrie and Bruce nodded in agreement. Margot rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her lips.

“Let's do it,” she exclaimed.

Honey groaned when Bruce touched her wound.

“Same,” she replied. Ace approached them again.

Bruce was preparing the needle and the thread, but Ace came up with a better idea.

“Your power is to unite and separate atoms, isn't it? Of any kind?” he questioned. Bruce smiled and replied:

“Exactly.”

Ace smiled, enigmatic.

“Why don't you suture the wound with your abilities? You’d just have to unite the atoms of skin on top of the wound.”

Bruce gulped.

“I-I could try.”

Ace nodded and looked at Honey, who had her eyes closed in pain.

Bruce took a deep breath and put his hands a few inches over the wound, which was still bleeding. He closed his eyes and breathed in, trying not to spread germs. Suddenly, Honey's skin began to expand and form bridges to reach the other side of the wound. The atoms, which formed cells, united and reproduced in seconds, pulling the skin further away. The exposed flesh also began to grow, approaching the top layer of skin. Little by little, the wound was covered until only new skin remained and it seemed that nothing had happened.

Honey moaned.

“Thanks, Bruce,” she thanked him and she took Ace's hand to stand up. Carrie went to her rescue instantly, and escorted her to the bathroom to clean herself.

Ace knelt next to Leroy, who stared blankly at the ceiling.

“What did they do to you?”

Leroy looked away from his eyes.

“Not much. I was lucky in comparison to Honey.”

Ace nodded and felt Leroy's bones. They were intact, though he, too, felt his bruises throbbing, sharp and heavy.

“How do you feel about moving to the cathedral?” Ace asked him, as he handed him a glass of water and arranged the chairs so that he could sit and recline comfortably. Leroy accepted the glass and sipped from the water. The glass was left with a blood stain.

“As long as we stick together, it is as comfortable as any other place.”

Ace gave a proud, compassionate smile and gestured for Margot to hand him some cotton. Margot snorted, and threw it at him. Ace caught him with his mental hands and shot a smug expression at her.

“Cheater,” she replied and a memory was unearthed in Ace's mind. One night, a coast, a beach, three people, a soul, a jar of chips, a dispute, three skills, a complaint, a word, a being...

Ace's throat tied like a rope around his neck.

Alexandra.

She had already been dead for two years.

Seven hundred and twenty days without her laugh.

Cheater.

ALESSANDRA!

Ace blinked and slapped the memories away.

They were his fuel but he shouldn't waste it on knotted throats and burning eyes.

No.

He had to invest everything in destroying buildings, collapsing bridges, blowing up highways. All his power was made to be anarchic, to be free, to be destructive.

He was Ace Anarchy, after all.

Not Alec Artino.

Not Ace Artino.

Ace Anarchy.

The Revolutionary.

The Savior.

That he had chosen to be.

That he must be.

There was no going back.

He stood up and laced his fingers together. He walked away from Leroy's couch and walked over to the piano to sit on its stool and begin to play, as James had taught him so long ago. His lessons had been short but fruitful, as Ace remembered every note, every word, every lesson. His fingers flowed like water in a stream and the melody too, only it was a blizzard seeping into the Anarchists eardrums. Margot came closer to listen better and Ace hoped that Alexandra's spirit possessed her and claimed that this music was depressing, but the girl just closed her eyes, feeling the music throb inside her.

Ace felt it too.

And he played until the sun went down and the citizens hid in their apartments (if they had even come out).

He relaxed his hands and turned, after releasing a breath of air.

All the Anarchists were looking at him; Honey and Margot were even drinking wine from a bottle, sitting in the wooden and leather chairs. Bruce's mouth was gawking, Henry was looking at him with arched eyebrows, and Leroy and Carrie were smiling calmly. They were impressed.

Ace smiled and tried not to blush, though he never did.

Honey clapped her hands enthusiastically and tossed him the bottle of wine, knowing he would cut her off.

Sure enough, Ace cut her off and took a sip from the spout as gracefully as possible. The wine was delicious; you could taste the presence of red fruits and the years of a good vintage in its flavor. Margot arched an eyebrow, pleased.

“Cheers.”

Ace raised the bottle, as if thanking her, as if thanking them for everything.

“Cheers.”

The night had died.

And only the vestiges of it remained in the sky, a couple of stars stronger than the others.

The Anarchists were in front of Gatlon’s Cathedral, which looked like a castle with its three floors, its Gothic towers and its bell tower (the tallest). They all were wearing their Anarchist uniforms, hidden in the wreckage of the night, waiting for the first ray of light to signal to take the cathedral and make it their own. Ace and Margot were the only ones who weren't relaxed and were staring at the sky in a position that would later cause torticollis. They were impatient.

Ace lowered his head and looked at his brothers. Honey looked like nothing had happened to her and Leroy only had a couple of bruises and a missing tooth as evidence of their ambush. Bruce was a second away from falling asleep, and Ace didn't blame him, since they had been planning all night how to take the cathedral without intermediaries. Henry and Carrie were playing with the flowers that grew on the asphalt; the girl made the flowers grow and the boy melted his hand over them, causing them to burn and turn to ashes. Ace heard the contact of the lava with the plants, like a ssssss.

Margot nudged him, subtly, compared to her usual brusqueness and pointed her index finger at the sky, which bathed in light. Ace nodded and gestured for the others to follow him to the entrance to the main nave. He used his mental hands to open the huge wooden doors without smashing them, and the others went through them. Once they were all inside, he closed the gates so that only he could open it.

When he turned his gaze to his Anarchists, they all stared at the ceiling, mesmerized.

It was completely normal, of course. The ceiling was lined with Gothic arches, painted with curved and detailed patterns, generating a feeling of love and at the same time, insignificance. The ceiling was eighty feet above the ground, and it was visible from the upper corridors if you poked your head out. There were many pillars, which supported the ceiling and clung to it in such a fluid way that it seemed impossible it could have been made by a mere human.

Everything in the cathedral was superior to the usual Gatlon City architecture.

Ace continued moving forward through the main nave, while the others admired the architecture that he already knew so well, despite the years. As he toured the space surrounding him, he remembered how he felt the first time he was there, with his brother’s company. That one time, it was his brother who had guided him through the nave, who had taken his hand and led him to their front seats. That time was the first time Ace went to mass without his sister and how awe inspiring the cathedral was compared to the church in his town, he was overwhelmed.

Yet there he was, walking confidently to the chancel, as he hadn't walked since he was twelve, the last time he had gone to mass.

We weren't a super religious influence, were we?

He shook himself with a sad smile and reached the chancel, which had Mary with a colorful and impressive stained glass window behind her. Although at some point in his life (most of it, in fact) that image had given him peace and comfort, today it only rubbed him in the face as if everything had been a delusion, as he had hoped that a non-existent being would save him from dying in the streets, as it had made him naive, stupid, dependent.

However, thanks to Julieta’s stories, he had realized that he had to be the Savior.

And he would be.

He turned to look at his Anarchists, who were still in trance by the inhuman architecture of the building. Margot was the only one who had reached the chancel with him and was waiting for his instructions. Honey was praying under her breath, and Carrie was not looking at the ceiling but ahead. For their part, Henry, Bruce and Leroy looked like three children seeing art for the first time. Ace sighed and snapped his fingers a few times. They all turned their attention to him.

“Tempest, Atomic Brain, come with me. Queen Bee, Cyanide, Flower Power and Magma, please confirm that we are the only people here,” he commanded and turned right, towards the stairs by the corner of the side aisle. Bruce and Margot followed him, and Ace noticed how the others split up to inspect the cathedral.

The stairs were made out of rock, with wide and straight staircases. Ace, Margot, and Bruce ascended two at a time, as they had to be in the bell tower by the time the sun touched most of Gatlon's buildings. While Bruce stumbled a couple of times, Ace and Margot were impervious throughout the ascent, until they reached the top floor and the stairs became narrower and made of wood.

Ace was the one who reached the highest point of the cathedral first. Margot and Bruce followed.

“Wow,” Bruce exclaimed, surprised at how high they had come here in such a short time.

Ace smirked and pulled a flag out of his pocket. Bruce took it between his fingers, pressed one end against the wooden pillars of that part of the tower and closed his eyes. In a second, part of the flag was one with the pillar, and it was fluttering in the wind, black, free and with a yellow ‘A’ painted in the center. Margot smiled through her teeth and the sky thundered loudly, suddenly filled with dark clouds. Ace rang the bells, one, two, ten times, until he could see how the cathedral’s neighbors were gathering below, at his feet.

Bruce started laughing, proud and happy of their achievement, and Ace's and Margot's laughter joined his uncontrollable laughter. They had the cathedral, they had their fortress, they had their place, they were free, they were doing what no one had ever done. Everything was worth it, after all the pain and effort.

And it would be.

Number by number, Ace dialed the one for his old apartment. His finger came and went, since it was an old phone, the kind that had no buttons but a wheel with the numbers inside. He couldn't expect less from the old priests who lived there (until the Anarchists came, of course).

He finished dialing the number and waited. With his ear uncovered, he heard war cries in the distance and a thud against the wall. He didn't even flinch, since, in fact, he had had to ask his brothers to cover up for him in that fight, just for that one time. In the next one, he would take care of everything so they could rest.

If that could be called resting.

A long, prolonged (and frankly annoying) tuuuuuu was heard on the telephone line. Ace matted his helmet on the phone table with the tips of his unoccupied fingers and waited. His knuckles were turning white from squeezing the oil-black phone.

The only purpose of that call was to verify that his brother was still alive, and safe, if possible. Ace hadn't spoken to him in weeks, as between recruiting prodigies, planning destruction, and destruction itself, his everyday life had slipped through his fingers. Ace didn't remember the last time he had eaten, that he had slept, or even the last time that he had worn anything other than his black and gold uniform and his helmet. He lived by and for revolution and liberation of prodigies, nothing more, nothing less.

The tuuuuuu stopped and only silence was heard.

“Who is this?” David said, his voice shaking and visibly exhausted.

Ace sighed, mildly relieved. It was fair to say he didn’t have the best relationship with his brother, but he was still his brother, and it took a load off him to know that he was okay.

“Brother,” he murmured, against the tube.

David sighed on the other end of the line too, exasperated and tired at the same time.

“Oh Alec, was that you?” David asked him, deep disappointment in his voice. Ace's fingers tightened on the tube. He knew perfectly well what he was referring to.

“Yes, it was me, in fact,” he said, proud of himself, not intimidated by the disappointment that his brother exuded. He didn't need his approval, or anyone else's.

David sighed once more.

“Oh brother…”

Ace grunted to himself.

“Don’t be condescending on me, David. I did what I had to do,” he explained, trying to sound cold and distant. He searched for James' voice in his mind, but it was muted, so he had to cope with his own coldness. He took a deep breath and waited for his brother's response.

David also took a deep breath, before replying:

“Did you?”

9 notes · View notes

humanperryfic · 4 years

Text

Everybody Needs Somebody to Love

When uncle Perry coughs up a whole flower at breakfast, Candace is understandably worried. She's also confused when she realizes that he has no plans to confess his love.

Despite having no idea what's really going on, and being told not to interfere, Candace is determined to get her uncle and his crush together.

Life might not always be a romance novel, but Candace is going to make it as close as possible.

Title from the Blues Brothers song

AO3/FF.net

TW’s for mild blood

The alarm on Candace's bedside table goes off with an obnoxious beeping noise. Candace groans and throws her arm out, attempting to silence the annoying noise. It's a teacher workday, why did she set her alarm?

That's right, she wanted a head-start on her busting. Looking out her window, she sees Phineas and Ferb already building. Perfect.

She rolls out of bed and pulls on her usual outfit before running a brush through her hair. Despite her sleep-deprived brain, she manages to put together a few coherent answers to Stacy's overnight texts before leaving her room.

Candace stumbles down the stairs to the kitchen, barely managing to avoid tripping over her own feet. It's early, and she was awake until almost one in the morning last night.

The only person who's in the kitchen is uncle Perry, who's pouring himself a bowl of cereal. Good morning, he signs.

"Morning," she grumbles, scrubbing at her eyes to rid them of the typical early-morning bleariness. "Where's mom and dad?"

Antiques convention, remember?

Candace sighs. That's right. Mom and dad are at a three-day antiques convention over the long weekend, leaving Perry in charge. Which means no busting. As long as they're safe, Perry's perfectly fine with what the boys create.

If he's ever there to see the creations. He's always getting called off for work.

Candace pulls her mug out of the cupboard, adds a teabag, and sets it next to Perry's, waiting for the kettle to boil. She could use the caffeine.

Stacy texts her back, so she sits down at the table to answer. After she sends the message, she puts her head down on the table. It's too early for anything to happen.

Perry sits down across from her, the bowl making a soft thump against the wood. He snaps his fingers to get her attention.

Candace pries one eye open. "mmm-yeah?"

You should eat.

She shrugs. "After tea."

Suit yourself.

Candace lays her head back on the table. It's still way too early to think about anything.

Perry starts coughing. Candace raises an eyebrow, still not picking her head up off the table. He's been sick since her freshman year, you'd think he'd be fine by now. Or at least that he'd see a doctor. It's kind of weird.

Eh, he's always been weird. He travels all over the place for work. He says he's a sort of special cop, but never wants to talk about his job. He doesn't talk, only makes that weird chattering noise. And he's always really weird about those Hanahaki soap operas, even though they're Candace's favorite.

Still, the cough is rather strange.

Candace opens one eye just in time to see Perry spit an entire white rose flecked with blood into the palm of his hand.

Now fully awake, she watches as he makes a face, gets up, throws the rose into the garbage can under the sink, and starts to wash his hands, unaware of Candace's staring.

Well, that makes sense.

Sort of. There are still a lot of things wrong with this.

Now that she's awake, she might as well eat breakfast. She stands up and moves to the cupboard, getting a bowl out. Setting the bowl down with a purposeful clank (it's never a good idea to startle uncle Perry), Candace turns to get the milk out of the fridge."So when were you going to tell us you had Hanahaki?"

Perry turns around, surprise painted on his face. Candace continues. "Seriously. That was an entire flower. How long have you been hiding this?"

He sighs. Almost two years. Candace gasps. Two years and she never suspected a thing? That was his mysterious sickness? "Who is it?"

Just someone I work with.

"And you never thought to tell us."

I told your parents.

Candace pours milk into the bowl. "I guess that's something. Are you going to confess?"

He looks to the backyard, where Phineas and Ferb are starting to build, and shakes his head. I'm getting it removed in three weeks.

Candace gapes. Removed? After two years of pain and suffering and blood covered roses? "You're just going to give up?" she asks.

Perry shrugs and turns off the tap. He's not interested in me, what else can I do?

"He might be. You never know." Perry raises an eyebrow as he sits back down at the table. "I mean, if Jeremy and I can get together, you and your crush can too," Candace continues.

Life isn't a romance novel. Sometimes it just doesn't work out.

"Have you even tried?"

Like I said, he's not interested.

"I hate to suggest this, but maybe the boys could help out?"

No.

"Why not? I bet they could make your crush have feelings for you."

If it's forced, it would make it even worse.

"It's worth a shot, right?"

No, it's not.

"Really?"

Coughing up flowers isn't fun or cute. He grimaces. It's actually pretty painful.

"You're really no fun."

See, this is why I didn't want to tell anybody. At Candace's affronted look, he continues. I'm an adult, I can deal with my own feelings. If that means getting rid of them, so be it. End of story.

"But-but-but I could help too!"

Perry narrows his eyes. End of story, Candace.

Candace pours her cereal into the milk. "Fine, whatever."

Look, I know you want to help, but I'd prefer to get through the next few weeks without dying.

Candace's eyes go wide. She'd completely forgotten that people could die from Hanahaki. Once they start coughing up full flowers, they've got only a few months left without intervention. "Oh," she says, her voice now small and meek.

It's scary, I know. Trust me when I say the surgery is the best option.

The kettle starts to whistle, so Perry takes it off the stove and pours the hot water into their mugs. Candace sits down at the table and starts to eat. "So there's really nothing else you can do?"

Nothing I can do at this point without making it worse. I suppose if he liked me back then it would be different, but I can't influence that.

A lightbulb goes off in Candace's head. Maybe uncle Perry can't ask this guy about it...but she can. She can convince this guy that Perry would be the best boyfriend ever!

"Tell me about this guy." She'll need some information if she wants to find him.

Well, Perry says, handing Candace her mug, he's got brown hair, blue eyes, and he's about six foot two, although he slouches.

Perry's watch goes off, and Candace groans internally. He always has to go to work at the worst times. "What's his name?"

For a brief moment, Perry looks conflicted. Heinz Doofenshmirtz, he signs.

"Doofenshmirtz like the mayor?"

Perry nods, drinking most of his tea in one gulp. I have to leave.

"Evil never rests, I know." Perry smiles. "Don't worry, I'll make sure nothing explodes while you're gone."

Perry smiles. See you later.

Candace nods and waves. As soon as Perry is in the garage, she puts her bowl of cereal in the sink and darts up the stairs. She grabs her purse out of her room and puts her phone and earbuds in it. She's about to go back down the stairs when she gets another idea.

She has a whole lot of pictures of Jeremy- and she didn't even have Hanahaki. Uncle Perry has to have a picture of his crush somewhere. That will help narrow down the search.

Carefully, she pulls her Ducky Momo 33rd Anniversary Commemorative lock pick out of her purse and picks the lock on the door to his room. She feels a little weird, but this is a love or death situation.

The lock opens with a click, and she opens the door.

The room is about what she expected. Neat, for the most part. There's a stack of cheesy romance novels on the bedside table, a bookmark in one. On his desk, there's a tall stack of paperwork. Several papers are stamped with Classified in red ink, but Candace ignores them. She has other things to look for.

She opens the top drawer of the desk. Pens, sticky notes, and paper clips. The next drawer down holds envelopes, a Classified stamp, and a red ink pad.

The bottom drawer is locked. Once again, her Ducky Momo lock pick comes in handy.

In the drawer is what looks like a grappling hook, a strange red disk, and a green box.

Candace picks up the grappling hook and the disk and puts them on the desk. Gingerly opening the box, she finds it stuffed full of immaculately cleaned white roses, with a few pictures along the sides.

She looks at the pictures first. Each one has uncle Perry with the same guy. A slouching man with brown hair and blue eyes, dressed in a lab coat.

This must be the guy. Heinz Doofenshmirtz.

But where would she find him? The only connection she knows is that uncle Perry works with him.

That's it. She'll just follow uncle Perry to work. Candace puts one of the pictures and a few of the fresher roses into her purse. On second thought, she adds the grappling hook and the red disk.

She can hear Perry's motorcycle revving in the garage. She closes the drawer, then runs out of Perry's room and down the stairs.

Candace opens the garage door and wheels her bike out. Thank god for Phineas and Ferb outfitting it with rocket boosters, she'll need them to catch up with Perry's motorcycle.

She only makes it to the end of the driveway before she hears a very loud, scary sounding bang come from the backyard. Despite her new mission, her boys-busting senses tell her to investigate.

Nearly trampling Baljeet, she dashes to the gate and throws it open. "What was that?" she demands.

Phineas grins. "It's our new rivet gun! Isn't it cool?"

"Pfft. It's a rivet gun. How cool can it be?"

Ferb merely rivets another piece of metal, producing a similar bang. "Very cool, Candace, very cool," Phineas says.

"Whatever." Candace rolls her eyes and jogs back around the front of the house to her bike. She pedals down to the first stop sign before she realizes that uncle Perry is long gone by now. She'll never be able to catch up to him.

Maybe there's another way she can find his crush. How many Doofenshmirtzes are there in Danville? This Heinz might be related to Mayor Doofenshmirtz somehow.

Downtown Danville, here she comes.

~~~

Candace makes it to City Hall in twenty minutes. She locks her bike to the rack outside and walks in.

"How may I help you?" the bored-looking receptionist asks.

"I'd like to talk to Mayor Doofenshmirtz?" Candace asks.

"Name?"

"Candace Flynn."

"He'll be free in a few minutes. You can wait here." The receptionist points to a small waiting area.

"Thank you," Candace says, and she sits down.

What a day. And it's not even close to being over.

Her phone rings. It's Jeremy. She picks it up right away.

"Hey Jeremy," she says.

"Hey Candace," he says. "I was wondering if you wanted to hang out later today?"

Candace thinks. Yeah, hanging out with Jeremy would be great, but she has a mission. "Sorry, but I'm doing something for uncle Perry today. I might be able to do something tomorrow, though."

Jeremy laughs. "You're such a good niece. See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow."

"Love you."

"Love you." Candace ends the call with a click.

Vanessa Doofenshmirtz walks in the door. "Hey Candace."

"Hi Vanessa," Candace says. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I wanted to talk to uncle Roger. He's probably busy, though. What about you?"

"I was waiting to do the same thing. Waiting to talk to the Mayor, at least. He's not my uncle."

"Really." Candace nods. "I don't know if he'll talk to you, he's always crazy busy."

Candace sighs. Maybe this lead won't work out after all.

Except...Vanessa Doofenshmirtz. Related to Roger. Is she related to Heinz?

"So why are you here?" Vanessa asks.

Candace pulls one of the pictures out of her purse, as well as one of the roses. "My uncle Perry," she points at Perry, "has Hanahaki for this guy," she points at the other man, "Heinz Doofenshmirtz. I wanted to ask the mayor, since they have the same last name. Do you know him?"

"Know him?" Vanessa laughs. "He's my dad."

Candace's eyes grow wide. "Your dad? That's perfect! Do you know if your dad likes my uncle? Like, like-likes him?"

Vanessa looks at the flower in Candace's hand. "I'm pretty sure he does, but you'd have to ask him directly."

Another lead. Perfect. "Where is your dad?"

Vanessa shrugs. "Probably at Blueprint Heaven. He's kind of an inventor."

"Thanks so much."

"I should warn you though, he's kind of cold. He'll probably just shrug you off."

Candace shrugs. "I'm not worried."

"Okay, then good luck."

Candace jumps out of her seat. "Thanks, Vanessa. See you later." She stuffs the photo and the rose back in her purse, then walks out the door. She unlocks her bike from the rack and hops on it. Thankfully, Blueprint Heaven isn't too far.

Her legs are burning by the time she makes it to the blueprint store. She peeks inside, watching as a slouching man with brown hair, wearing a lab coat, purchases a few blueprints. That must be him.

As the man leaves the shop, she puts out her arm.

"Hey, watch it, kid," the man says.

"I have something to ask you," Candace says. "Are you Heinz Doofenshmirtz?"

"That's Doctor Doofenshmirtz to you. And if you're selling those Fireside Girl cupcakes, I already bought two dozen."

Candace rolls her eyes and pulls the photo out of her purse. "I want to ask you about this picture."

The man pulls out a pair of reading glasses and studies the picture. "What do you want to ask me?"

Candace points at Perry. "Do you like-like this guy?"

"That's a rather strange question to ask, isn't it?"

"Danville's a strange place."

Dr. Doofenshmirtz shrugs. "You got me there. Y'know, he looks like this other guy I know." He points at the picture. "What's his name?"

"Perry," Candace says.

"Really? I, uh, work with a guy named Perry. Sort of. We're like, work rivals. He's really nice though, even if he doesn't talk much."

Candace's Busting Senses start to tingle. "I wonder if they're the same guy?"

Dr. Doofenshmirtz hums. "Maybe. It'd be just like him to be all mysterious and suave and all that." He pauses to cough into the arm of his lab coat. When he pulls his arm away, the sleeve is red and covered in petals. "Oh, come on, I just washed this one."

"You have Hanahaki?" Candace asks. "Can I see the flowers?"

He looks at Candace funny. "I guess? They're roses, white ones." He wipes one of the petals off on his lab coat and shows it to her. "You know, I googled the meaning, and they mean young love and innocence and all that stuff. I mean, it's like the last thing I'd relate with him."

"So your soulmate is your work rival," Candace clarifies.

"Awkward, right? Man, the universe really has it out to get me."

Candace merely nods along. This...inventor has the same flower as uncle Perry. Another strange coincidence. Or is it? Is there another Heinz Doofenshmirtz in the Tri-State area?

"Listen, it was great talking with you, but I kinda have to go to work now, so..."

Candace nods. "Nice meeting you."

"Likewise," Dr. Doofenshmirtz says, and he walks off down the road.

Hmm. Perry has Hanahaki for a guy named Heinz Doofenshmirtz that he works with. This Heinz (sorry, doctor) Doofenshmirtz has Hanahaki for a guy named Perry that he's work rivals with. Vanessa told her that her dad Heinz likes Perry, and Perry's got a picture of him with his crush Heinz.

They've got to be the same guys.

And they must be pining over each other.

What idiots. Uncle Perry said this was nothing like a romance novel, but it practically is.

Candace watches as Dr. Doofenshmirtz walks into the apartment building shaped like Ferb's head. The one that says Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated on its front...wait, what?

The final pieces click together. Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated. Perry always says "Evil never rests" when he runs off to work. This guy mentioned that he and Perry are work rivals. Could Perry be fighting this guy for work?

No wonder Perry didn't want to get with his crush. If they're on opposite sides of the great Good and Evil debate, dynamics change.

This just got a whole lot more interesting.

Candace is still getting them together. Secret relationships can work.

She sizes up the apartment building. A person on a jetpack flies up to the balcony, landing and disappearing from view. That must be Perry. She runs down the street and tugs on the door of the building.

Damn it, it's one of those buildings where the residents have to buzz people in. She doesn't have time to wait around for someone to let her in. There's got to be another way.

She looks into her purse. The red disk says "Standard Issue Glider" on the bottom, with a button. Good to know, but that won't work right now.

No, the thing she needs right now is the grappling hook. She's afraid of heights, but this will have to work. She's Candace Flynn, she can do whatever she puts her mind to. If that means grappling up the side of a forty-story building, so be it. It's worth it for love. She steps back, pulls the hook out of her purse, and aims it at the balcony.

Thankfully, she's still wearing her bike helmet. She fires the grappling hook towards the balcony. Once it sticks, she presses the button on the side and holds on for dear life. The building flashes by in a rush of purple, then she's landing on the balcony with a thud.

It seems that nobody inside noticed her stunt. Dr. Doofenshmirtz has his back to the balcony, and uncle Perry (in a 1940's fedora) is stuck in a net.

Yep, Good and Evil are clashing in this apartment-slash-lab.

She ducks behind a strange-looking planter. Thankfully, nobody's seen her. She needs a plan.

Maybe she could just go up to them and tell them about each other? No, that wouldn't work.

Throw them a paper airplane? She doesn't really have any paper, except for the photo.

Hmm. What about the roses? Both of them have the same flower, that might spur the connection along.

She peeks around the corner. Uncle Perry and Dr. Doofenshmirtz are fighting now, sparring as if they've done it a thousand times before. Candace bites down on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from cheering.

Uncle Perry lands one more kick, then throws his hat across the room. It hits a big red button on the side of a machine, and the machine promptly explodes. Candace ducks to protect herself from the flying bits of metal.

However, instead of leaving, uncle Perry goes to help Dr. Doofenshmirtz up. They move to another part of the lab, where a small kitchen is. Dr. Doofenshmirtz pours them both glasses of water, handing one to uncle Perry.

Now's the time.

Candace carefully sneaks out of her hiding place. She pulls one of the roses out of her purse, aims, and throws. As soon as the flower leaves her hand, she ducks back behind the wall. After a second, she peeks back around the corner.

Both uncle Perry and Dr. Doofenshmirtz have tried to cover up the rose, thinking it's their own. They both look away from each other. Even from across the way, Candace can tell how flustered Perry's gotten.

She watches as uncle Perry says something, signing much faster than usual. She thinks she catches the signs for "Hanahaki", "love" and "rose", although it's hard to tell from this far away.

He finishes what he has to say and drops his hands into his lap. For twelve seconds (vintage Ducky Momo Awkward Silence Timer), nothing happens.

Then Dr. Doofenshmirtz grabs uncle Perry's tie, pulls him in, and kisses him.

It's all Candace can do to hold back a squeal.

When they part, neither make eye contact for six and a half seconds. Then Perry signs something, making Dr. Doofenshmirtz laugh. Perry leans up and places a short kiss on Dr. Doofenshmirtz's lips. Both men grin broadly.

Yeah, uncle Perry's going to be alright.

Candace pulls another one of the roses out of her purse and throws it at the couple, not bothering to hide this time. This one bounces off the back of Perry's head, causing him to look over at the balcony.

"Enjoy your romance novel ending," she shouts, a broad smile nearly splitting her face in two. Perry gets up from the counter and starts over towards her, a look of shock painted over his face. Candace merely pulls the red disk out of her purse, presses the button on the bottom, and watches as it expands into a red hang glider.

She winks and salutes, then kicks off the ledge to glide off the balcony.

As she glides over Danville, she grins. And uncle Perry said it wouldn't work out. Well, she just proved him wrong.

Something on the glider starts to beep. A tinny voice emanating from a hidden speaker starts to talk. "Warning. Unauthorized use of OWCA tech. Returning to base."

Well, it was fun while it lasted. Candace attempts to let go of the glider as it nears the ground, but cuffs clamp down around her wrists. A rocket engine pops out of the back and steers her in an unknown direction.

Fifteen minutes later, she finds herself in an underground bunker, being stared down by a man with an intimidating mustache and a scrawny intern with a camera. Uncle Perry stands in the background, his hands in his pockets and the beat-up fedora from earlier on his head.

The man with the mustache starts to speak. "Do you know what you've done?'

"I just saved uncle Perry's love life?" she guesses. Behind the intern, Perry shakes his head. Candace can see the amused smile on his face.

The mustached man sighs. "Not quite. Your uncle Perry is actually a top OWCA agent, and as such, his identity must be kept completely secret." Candace considers this. A secret agent, huh? That certainly explains the grappling hook and the hang glider.

Man, being a secret agent would be so cool.

"Candace Flynn," as you have compromised Agent P's position, your memory is going to be wiped."

"What, there's nothing else you can do?"

The intern speaks up. "We could relocate him to another continent, and you'd never see him again." Candace's eyes go wide, and she shakes her head. "Yeah, we figured you'd like the memory wipe option better."

"Anything else you'd like to say, Ms. Flynn?" the mustached man asks.

Candace thinks for a second. "I don't know, I think uncle Perry owes me something."

For a brief second, Perry looks confused. Then he smiles knowingly. Thank you, Candace.

"You're welcome. Now, hit me."

The green ray hits her square in the face, and her mind goes fuzzy.

~~~

Candace steps off the bus. Finally, the last day of school. Phineas and Ferb are throwing a party, and for some odd reason, she doesn't even want to bust them for it.

(That reason has nothing to do with the fact that Jeremy will be there. Nope, nothing at all.)

She runs up the stairs to her backpack down in her room, then runs back out into the backyard.

Phineas and Ferb have already set up rides, food, and of course, live music. Perks of middle school- they get out earlier.

Already, most of the neighborhood has shown up. It's starting to look like it's going to end up being a big block party.

Under the tree in the backyard, uncle Perry and some guy in a lab coat are talking. This must be his boyfriend. When Perry sees Candace, he waves her over.

Candace, I'd like you to meet someone very special to me.

#sam's fic #perry the platypus #perry the human #human perry #human perry the platypus #heinz doofenshmirtz #doctor doofenshmirtz #candace #candace flynn #pnf #phineas and ferb #perryshmirtz #fic #my fic #tw blood #blood #(there's not much)

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nikkoliferous · 4 years

Link

On March 22, Prude, 41, got an Amtrak train from Chicago to Rochester to visit his brother. He was behaving unusually when he arrived and had threatened to harm himself, Joe Prude told The Appeal, so he contacted the police and had his brother taken to the hospital. But he was released within hours, Joe Prude said. Later, in the early morning hours of March 23, Daniel Prude asked his brother for a cigarette, then suddenly ran out the back door.

So Joe Prude called the police again. An officer arrived, and Joe Prude told him his brother was only a danger to himself, and told police not to kill his brother.

Body camera footage from the responding officers shared with The Appeal shows police found Prude at around 3 a.m., walking naked and bleeding down Jefferson Street. Rochester police officer Mark Vaughn pulls out his taser and tells Prude to get on the ground and put his hands behind his back. Prude immediately complies and is handcuffed without incident. After touching Prude, Vaughn returns to his squad car and uses hand sanitizer on his gloved hands.

“That was easy and fast,” Vaughn says as he walks back to Prude. At least five Rochester police officers stand over Prude, who is lying on his stomach on the cold, wet ground with his hands bound behind his back, rambling and saying the same phrases over and over. Snow is falling on him.

Prude appears to spit several times while on the ground, but not at the officers. One of the officers asks if anyone has a spit sock.

“Sir, you don’t got AIDS do you?” Vaughn asks Prude, who is writhing on the ground and repeating himself.

Another officer again asks for a spit sock, and though Prude is handcuffed on the ground and all of the officers are standing a few feet away from him, Vaughn pulls one out of his pocket and puts it over Prude’s head.

“He complied with all of their demands, and then they treated him like a piece of garbage with not even one speck of basic humanity,” Elliot Dolby-Shields, an attorney representing Prude’s family, told The Appeal. “No, ‘Hey are you alright? Hey, can we get you a blanket?’ … It’s freezing out and he’s naked. They don’t offer him anything.”

When Vaughn covers Prude’s face with the spit sock, Prude’s demeanor changes. Though he continues to ramble, his voice begins to quiver, and it sounds like he is on the verge of tears. He repeatedly asks officers to take the mask off his face, and tells officers to give him their mace, handcuffs, and guns.

After about a minute of this, while Prude is sitting upright but still handcuffed and on the ground, Vaughn and officer Troy Taladay approach Prude and push him onto the ground.

The two can be seen pinning him down, Talady kneeling on Prude’s back and Vaughn pushing Prude’s face into the ground, while Prude repeatedly asks the officers to get off him. Prude’s speech becomes garbled and difficult to understand. He cries and makes sputtering sounds, but the officers don’t relent.

“Relax dude, you’re gonna end up getting tased,” another officer tells Prude as he begs Vaughn and Talady to get off him.

Two emergency medical technicians arrive in an ambulance and approach the officers, who continue to mock Prude as he whimpers on the ground, wet snow covering his naked body. A police report says that officers believed Prude had stopped breathing by the time the EMTs arrived. In the body camera footage, one EMT can be heard asking if Prude feels hot.

“Do you want me to take his temperature?” Talady says sarcastically, pointing to Prude’s buttocks. The EMT laughs. Prude has already stopped moving and talking at this point, but Talady continues to kneel on the man.

“At first he’s talking, and then he’s whimpering, and then he goes silent,” Dolby-Shields said. “And they all laugh. They’re having a good time, and you can see at that moment that his hand stops twitching, and his chest stops going up and down, and he’s dying, and they’re just casually making jokes.”

One of the EMTs asks if he has a pulse. Another EMT says no. They start performing CPR, and Vaughn walks back to his car to grab more hand sanitizer. Officers uncuff Prude and get him onto a gurney. Medics managed to resuscitate Prude. A doctor later told Prude’s sister-in-law that he had been deprived of oxygen for a long time, and he was most likely brain dead, according to a police report.

As far as Joe Prude is concerned, his brother functionally died before making it to the hospital. “He died there. They just took him to the hospital and put a tube in him,” he said. With no sign of brain activity, the family decided to take Prude off life support the following week.

You are never going to “reform” this shit. Defund the fucking police.

#us politics #black lives matter #daniel prude #defund the police #abolish the police #tw: police brutality

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buckys-little-hoe · 4 years

Text

Always Forever 2 | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: The effects are beginning to show. Suddenly you need to be close to each other, every touch is like a drug, every insult is like a knife stab. Thor finally finds the solution to the problem - and that only complicates everything.

Warnings: There’s a penis and a vagina, oral sex (male receiving), petting, making out, unprotected Sex (You can't go wrong, if you shield your dong), cussing

A/N: Ladies and Gentelmen, here it is! My first smut-thing. Please tell me how you feel about it and how I can make it even better! Also, look at how beautiful this man is. *0*

—

With your teeth clenched, you sit far from Bucky. It's incredibly quiet. Too calm. There is usually a lot of discussion and laughing during dinner, but today it is different. Everyone notices the tension between you and Bucky. It's only been two days, but you're feeling the effects. You long for him, want to touch his skin. But you can't - it would hurt your ego. Bruce is working hard to find a solution, he's in the lab day and night. Even Thor went to Asgard for a few days to find an antidote. God damn, even Sam doesn't make fun of the situation. It's weird. The atmosphere is so uncomfortable and forced. Nobody dares to say anything.

You are hot, very hot. So you get up. The chair squeals and everyone looks at you. "I'm going to my room.”, you apologize yourself quietly and receive a single nod from your friends. You walk to your room as fast as possible, you just want to get away from this situation. You get to your room in seconds - a new record. With a sigh you let yourself fall on your soft bed. Slight stomach cramps affect you. You are two weeks away from your menstruation. So what is this pain?

Meanwhile, Bucky grumbles some apologize just so he can leave this strange dinner. He notices how the conversation starts as soon as he leaves the room. He rolls his eyes and makes his way to his bedroom. But he stops at your door. Something attracts him, almost like a magnet. His hand grips the metal and the spot immediately tingles. He should knock, but maybe you won't let him in then. Bucky doesn't need much, he just has to touch you briefly. He needs physical contact.

Without further ado, he simply enters your room. Your head is pressed into the fluffy pillow and he recognizes the sweat beads on your bare skin. You changed clothes, dressed shorter to escape the heat. You lift your head slightly and let out a tormented groan. "I know what you want, please just do it.", you say in a hoarse voice and he trembles. You need him as much as he needs you. He slowly approaches you and you laugh softly.

"I don’t bite."

"Normally you do."

Now you two laugh. He carefully settles down next to you. "I'm going to touch your hip now, Y/N.”, he warns you, because he's afraid that you'll change your mind and slap him. Once again you sigh annoyed.

"God, Bucky.”, you reply tensely and sit up. He feels just as bad as you, why doesn't he just touch you? You hug him quickly. Surprised, he falls back slightly. You sit on his lap and he gasps.

"Fuck Y/N.", Bucky groans. This makes your face red unintentionally. The tingling in your abdomen increases. Bucky cannot explain what the feeling is. He can finally breathe normally again and yet somehow he cannot. You feel his excitement at your sore spot and press your lips together. You try to inconspicuously rub yourself against it. Bucky leans his head back and sighs comfortably. "God- fuck ... Doll ... I can ... you don't have to ...", he tries to get a sentence out, but he doesn't. The feeling of your sweet pussy against him is too much. Four layers of clothes separate you.

"Shit, Bucky ... I need you.”, you moan softly, rolling your hips against his. His hands lift you by the waist. The friction feels so good. Your eyes close automatically and you draw your lower lip between your teeth. Breathing irregularly, he leans his head on your chest. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck.

“Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me. ”, he whispers, yet you can hear him clearly. The tingling feeling builds up more and more. With one hand you dig into the pillow. You rub against his erection faster. His moan turns you on even more. "It's okay, doll. I got you.”, he says and you gasp. Almost simultaneously you two feel the ecstasy. The feeling is more intense than ever. He had never had such a good orgasm, he will probably think about it forever. You cling to him and slowly ride your orgasm out. He carefully puts you on your bed and you fall back exhausted. There is a stain on your gray shorts and Bucky's orgasm can also be seen on his pants.

Without exchanging any words, he goes out and closes the door behind him. Your chest is contracting strangely. Somehow you feel used. You just put the blame on the potion. You definitely feel much better than before. You feel satisfied and satisfied.

Bucky goes away because he fears of getting too close to you. He doesn't want you to feel compelled to spend the night with him. You certainly don't want all of this and would rather have drunk the potion with someone else. The touch should definitely be enough for a few days. He can successfully avoid you.

—

Another two days pass without you running into each other. It helps that you avoid him like the plague. The team of course noticed your intense tension and puzzled over what might have happened. While Tony and Natasha are betting that you have finally gone one step further, Sam and Wanda assume that you only kissed. Steve didn't say anything about it. Clint just shrugged and said you were probably arguing again. Only Vision has no opinion of the situation. Bruce continues to work hard and Thor is still on Asgard.

In the early morning you enter the kitchen and notice the prying eyes. You yawn loudly and let the coffee machine run. Words can wait until another day, you decide and ignore your teammates. Even Bucky had decided to not say anything, but he is not the one who has to endure these looks. Damn asshole...-fuck! A sharp pain goes through your body. It's like you've burned yourself everywhere at once. Shaking your head, you take your cup out of the cupboard and wait patiently for your coffee. It's all the fault of this Dickhead..- Holy! What the hell? Full of pain, your hand clasps away from the cup. It falls to the floor and breaks immediately. Curved you hold on to the counter.

Steve immediately rushes to help and picks up the broken pieces. He throws these in the garbage. But as soon as he wants to touch your arm soothingly, this spot glows internally and you flinch backwards. He looks at you in disbelief. "Is everything okay, Y/N?", he asks in a calm voice. You stammer in confusion. "Are you hurt? Are you in pain?”, the captain interrupts your babble.

You shake your head slightly. "No, it's just- when you touched me ... - I don't know, Steve.", you answer visibly confused. Bruce, who has been standing in the door frame for a while, clears his throat loudly. Your head snaps to him and he signals you to follow him. You follow after the scientist like a dog. In his hand are chaotic handwritten documents. When you arrive in the laboratory, you sit down on one of the countless chairs.

"So, Y/N ...", he begins slowly and flips through the leaves. Then looks up with regretful facial expressions. "I guess you mentally insulted James?" You nod with your mouth open. ”The potion is causing it. He insults you, he is in pain. You insult him, you are in pain.”, the man with the seven doctoral degrees explains.

"But why did Steve's touch hurt me?", you want to know. With light red cheeks Bruce swallows hard.

“I'm assuming that there was an intimate act between you and James. You are bound to it by the potion, which means touching someone else hurts you. “

You look at him incredulously. "You're kidding me."

"Unfortunately, no. And it will probably happen more often in the near future. So if you ... Uhm ... well ... if you need contraception then ... - you know. "

You choke. You cough loudly and he hands you a glass of water. With a grateful nod, you accept the glass and drink large sips. He waves your thank you away. Your cough slowly calms down and you take a deep breath. "So... Just for your information. I'm on birth control. ”, you reply and he nods understandingly.

"Good. If you need anything, I'm here. Unfortunately, I haven't made much progress yet. I'm going to have to wait for Thor.”, Bruce says and you close your eyes for a few seconds. When you open it again, you notice Bucky in the door frame. You say goodbye to Bruce and use the other exit.

—

Peter laughs out loud when Sam sticks popcorn into his nostrils. With a snort, Natasha turns back to the television. Even Tony rolls his eyes and then focuses on the film again. You sit between couch end and bucky. Your other friends are sitting in the rows in front of you. It's been three days since the incident. The film is not really interesting, you can hardly concentrate on it. Instead, you'd rather look at Bucky from the side. His striking facial features have been stored in your brain since the first encounter.

Your first encounter had been like an explosion. Bucky was going to be extra nice to you. You were trained to be assassin since you were at an early age, you were tortured for mistakes. He wanted to bond with you, something so that you knew that you weren't alone. But as soon as you opened your mouth, he knew you didn't need any help. You have always had everything under control. He wasn't sure what he had imagined. A shy girl that shrugs away from every touch? Or that you were rather withdrawn and cool? But you were none of it. Naughty, rebellious and cheeky. You immediately gave your opinion about every single one of them. Bucky thought it was funny too, until you attacked him with your words. It's just your way of dealing with this.

You love control, it is important to you. As soon as you lose control, you feel like an easy target. No matter where you are, you check out the room for a few times to make sure that every escape route is clear. Bucky clears his throat and you notice that you've been looking at him for a long time. With red cheeks you turn your head to the screen. The former assassin swallows unobtrusively and slowly slides his hand towards you. A tingling sensation spreads when your hands are in contact. His skin on yours is like fireworks. It feels great. You forget that these feelings are forced. Were they? You are no longer sure. The truth is you never meant to hurt Bucky with your words. Of course it was your plan to make friends, but it was so difficult at the beginning. Even now that they all understood and forgave you, Bucky didn't want to hear anything from you. But now it was a must. Without his touch it feels like death. And you can confirm that because you were once declared clinically dead.

You blink and press your lips together. Then you wrap your hand around his. From the corner of your eye you can see how the corners of his mouth pull up slightly. Satisfied, you really try to concentrate on the film this time. But Bucky has other plans, he craves more. He releases his hand from yours. You turn to him in confusion and raise a perfectly plucked eyebrow. He lasciviously licks his lower lip. You automatically bite your lip and look away. Suddenly you feel his hand on your thigh. Like three days ago, you only wear shorts. At first you think he just wants to draw circles on your thigh, but his hand keeps working up.

There is a blanket on you, but the danger is too great for you. So you bend your other leg to raise the blanket a little. That way you avoid that the outlines from his hands can be seen. Bucky sees your reaction as a yes. His fingertips stroke your sensitive area. You hold your breath, unnoticed. Two layers of fabric separate his fingers from your pearl. He gently stimulates your clit. With your other hand, you claw into the couch. He slowly pulls your shorts and panties aside. You gasp quietly. Bucky looks at you warningly. You nod slightly and watch the TV. His fingers touch your entrance.

Meanwhile his body is pressed so close to yours that not a single sheet of paper would fit between you. He approaches you with his head and you can feel his hot breath on your cheek. "So wet for me, doll.", he whispers tentatively in your ear and kisses it lightly. Your abdomen tingles and you swallow hard. “Do you want to feel my big fingers in you, Y/N?”, he continues to whisper and you stop breathing.

"Please." You breath imploringly. Your legs shake slightly, your body implores him. You want to feel his fingers, you need him!

"Let's make a deal.”, he says, inserting only the tip of his finger. Your heart pauses briefly. Fuck you can't wait.

“Everything you want, just fuck me with your fingers, Bucky. Please.”, you agree quietly. Satisfied, he inserts a finger. With red cheeks you continue to look at the screen and bite your finger.

“Later you will blow my cock nicely. Tomorrow I'll fuck your brain out of you. You will cum all over my cock and shout my name, doll.”, he explains in a whisper and uses his thumb to massage your clit. You can only nod. “I'll widen your sweet pussy, Y/N. You will take what I will give you. ”

Your eyes become glassy and you put your head back. "Fuck, Bucky.”, you murmur excitedly. The chance of being caught only turns you on even more. He unexpectedly inserts a second finger. You hiss quietly. Shit, that feels so good.

"Holy shit, doll. You’re so tight. Are you sure you can take my cock?”, he secretly asks and your head shoots at him. Slowly he pushes his fingers out and in. The smacking sound is drowned out by the action film. You lick your lips breathlessly.

“Yes, sergeant. I promise.”, you say and you notice how his eyes take on a darker tone. He picks up a faster pace and always hits your sore point. Your vision blurs and you see white dots. "Bucky ... I ..." Your hand is clenching his thigh, but he doesn't care.

"Cum for me, babygirl.”, he whispers and you blink. Then everything becomes white for a short time. Happiness floods your body. Fuck, this is the best orgasm you have ever had. Bucky removes his fingers and looks deep into your eyes. Then he leads them to your mouth. Without thinking about it, you immediately put them in your mouth. As Bucky bites his lip, you suck and lick his fingers clean. You taste sweet. Like honey. With a soft pop you let his fingers out again.

"Good girl.”, he says smiling. You let out a soft moan. “Meet me in my room right away, doll.", he orders and with wide eyes you nod. He gets up and leaves after throwing popcorn at Sam.

The minutes pass by and you get up yawning. "This movie sucks.", you say, but nobody really seems to care. So you just walk out of the cinema room towards the bedroom. When you arrive in his room, he presses you against the wall and kisses you. You return the kiss in surprise. It tastes like passion. His hands move over your body. Then they stay on your hips.

Breathless, he releases his lips and looks at you briefly. Your face has a reddish tinge and you take a hard breath. "Shit.”, he swears, pushing you to your knees. You obey on your knees and immediately start working on his belt. The pants with boxer shorts are pretty fast on the floor. Fuck, he is huge. His tip is shiny from the drops of pleasure. He looks delicious. Hungry you lick your tongue gently over its tip. You taste his pre-cum. Bucky draws in the air sharply. He happily puts his head back and gathers your hair in his hand. Carefully you grab his huge cock. Then you put it in your mouth.

It tastes so good that you have to moan softly. The vibration around his cock feels like heaven and hell at the same time. You start bobbing your head. Bucky looks at you breathing heavily. “Fuck, you look so beautiful, babydoll. Your beautiful lips wrapped around my cock.”, he groans. You move your head even faster and do the same movement with your hand. Then you detach yourself from his cock. A thread of saliva connects your mouth to his dick.

"I want you to fuck my mouth, Sergeant.”, you say in a hoarse voice.

“Shit, Y/N. Gladly.”, he mumbles and grabs your hair with his metal hand. You put your hands on his thighs. He slowly introduces his cock back into your mouth. "Ready princess?", he asks you and you nod. He moves your head up and down quickly. Your eyes start to water, but you enjoy it. His panting makes you wet. After a few minutes, he stops, his cock still in your mouth. He breathes deeply. “I want you to just focus on your breathing now. Concentrate on breathing through your nose. Understood that?" You nod with reddened eyes. Slowly he pushes your head closer to him. His big cock goes deeper and deeper into your mouth until it's finally in your throat. You choke gently and tears run down your cheeks. Bucky enjoys the view. He loves how you kneel on the floor in front of him, your eyes and face red, his cock so deep in your throat that you have to choke and cry. You love his cock. You think he tastes amazing. Shit, he even can see the outline of his dick in your throat. He groans loudly and pulls you away by your hair.

Gasping for breath, you slowly calm down. Your saliva sticks to your chin. He removes his metal hand from your hair and slowly pumps his cock. Your sight turns him on. You still take some deep breaths. He grunts loudly and pulls you by your hair. He forces you to put your head back. You gasp excitedly. Bucky moans and finally cums. He squirts his cum all over your face and you let out a comforting sigh. It feels wonderful, just like you imagine heaven. With one finger you run your hand over your cheek to collect his sperm. Then you put your finger in your mouth and lick it clean. "Fuck, doll.", he moans and takes a deep breath.

—

What are you even thinking, Bucky wonders and looks at your outfit. You are wearing a white tight top with a deep v neckline and a pink short skirt. But you don't seem to care what others think. You don’t even seem to catch Steves greedy look. Suddenly you lock eyes with Bucky. His look seems a bit deadly and you swallow hard. Did you do something wrong? Not that you know.

"Why can't I joke about it?", Sam complains and you roll with your eyes. Why does he always ask the stupidest questions?

"Because this situation is not a bit funny, Sam." Steve sighs and pushes himself off the counter. You all stand together in the kitchen - looking for an answer. It will be days before Thor returns Bruce says.

"I would say that we should just wait for Thor's return.” Bruce says and Natasha nods in agreement.

"Then that is cleared up and I can finally go shopping?" Clint asks and Bucky grumbles softly.

"You can all go, Bucky and I have to clarify something else.”, you reply in a soft voice and ignore the tingling in your abdomen. You can't think of anything else right now, the only thing in your head is his cock. And damn, you need it so badly! Oral sex is no longer enough, you need more.

Your friends say goodbye to you and disappear. As if it had been agreed, Bucky closes the door behind them and locks it. You bite your lip and feel the anticipation. Without hesitation you run up to him and put your lips on his. His tongue gently brushes your lower lip. You loosen yourself briefly to see if all doors are locked.

“My dirty little girl doesn't have patience, huh? Are you longing for my cock so much?”, he whispers sensually in your ear and your body hair stands up. Your abdomen is contracting excitedly.

"Fuck, Bucky. I finally have to feel you.”, you answer breathlessly. Within a few seconds, your back is pressed against his chest and your waist is leaning against the counter.

“What do you need, doll? Tell me.”, he asks in a hoarse voice. You greedily rub your butt against his erection. But he grabs you by the waist and forces you to stop. “Come on, be a good girl for me. What do you need?"

“I need your cock inside of me. Please.”, you tell him with a brittle voice. He puts your skirt up. His hand travels up your thigh and stops at your core.

“I don't know if you deserve it, baby girl. You run around so freely and you look innocent at the same time ... You are only mine.”, he thinks out loud and puts a finger on your clit. Your breath stops. "Didn't you notice Steves look? He looked so hungry for you. Is that what you want? His attention?”

“No, I swear it! I just want your attention, Bucky!”, you reply honestly. He gently massages your pearl. You gasp.

“Good girl. Who do you belong to, Doll?”, Bucky asks in a deep voice.

"To you. Only you. ”, you answer without thinking. That's apparently enough for him because you can hear him opening his zipper. Slowly he brushes your clothed pussy with his cock. You whimper quietly. "Your panties are soaked ... Shit.”, he sighs and strokes your panties aside with his fingers. Once again he strokes your wet entrance with his cock.

"Please, Bucky.”, you moan.

"I'll treat you so well, Doll. I'll take care of you. You won’t even think about any other guy.”, he promises and pushes his dick inside you. You hiss, it's been a while since you had real sex. And Buckys cock is big and thick, something you've never had before.

"Shit, you're so tight.”, he groans, watching his cock slide in and out of you. You breathe irregularly and cling to the bar. “Look at you, Y/N. Taking me so good, while looking so pretty.”, Bucky moans. It's like you were made for him.

You have found hell and heaven. It's just a narrow line between the two, and that's exactly where you're moving. Both taste sweet. Every touch is heaven. Every word is hell. You two are unbearable. With eyes you kill each other every second, but a few minutes later you can no longer breathe properly, you feel a pull in your chest and you sweat. Every push into you is his personal hell. Something he always wanted, but only gets through the wrong way. He can't deny that he wanted to fuck you since the first time he met you. You had an innocent short dress on back then. It was all just physical. If you wouldn’t have been a brat, he would have already fucked you.

The sweat pearls roll over your body. His hand pulls lightly on your hair, your head lays on his shoulder and his lips caress your soft skin. His thrusts get hectic and hard, hungry for more. You can't complain, you enjoy it. Fuck, you deserve to be treated properly! Your eyes are glassy and your lips are shaped into an O. Again and again he hits his G-spot.

"Shit, Bucky!", you moan loudly and tears run down your flushed cheeks. You clench around his cock.

“You like that, huh? You like it hard. You want to feel every inch of me.”, he grunts into your ear. Your vision blurries. The climax builds up in you.

"I ... I'm about to cum.”, you say out of breath. Your walls hug his erection more and more, your thighs shake excitedly.

"I got you, doll. Cum for me.”, Bucky replies in a soft voice and plays around with your clitoris. Your view is covered by white spots and you whine loudly. Something explodes in you. You cum all over his cock. He also fills you up with his seeds. He slowly fucks you down from your climax. Breathless, you put your upper body on the cool counter and try to calm down. The orgasm was huge and intense. Even now, tears are still rolling down your cheeks. "Shh ... it's alright.", he whispers softly and runs his hand through your hair. Your breath slowly normalizes.

—

"Will it be a little quieter next time?", Sam asks, not looking up from his cell phone. Clint slaps him on the back of the head. With red cheeks you sit on the couch. Wanda, next to you, smiles encouragingly.

"He's doing a good job, isn't he?", Natasha says with a grin and you put your head in your hands with a sigh.

"Hello, dear friends!", a friendly voice calls and you look up with wide eyes.

"Thor!", you rejoice loudly and lure Steve, Bruce, Vision and Bucky into the living room.

"Hey buddy. Nice to see you again.", Steve smiles and sits down on one of the countless armchairs. The rest also sits down.

"Do you have a solution?", Bruce asks curiously and gets straight to the point.

"Yeah ... just I don't know if it’ll please you.”, Thor explains with a sympathetic smile. You frown. What will it be?

“Spit it out already.”, Sam replies with interest.

"The only solution to your connection is real love between you.”, Thor says, looking alternately at you and Bucky.

“Well, fuck."

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hypnotica-ships · 3 years

Text

3x3

So, thanks to some A+++ enabling from the discord server, I've decided to post my BNHA self insert fanfic. I haven't really talked about my insert, but I plan to sometime in the future, but for now I"ll leave ya'll in the dark.

This whole thing was made just to make me and my friends feel good and give us some much needed self indulgence.

Word Count- 1,550

Hypnotica- My S/I

Grafight- @fictional-characters-are-hot's S/I

Slasher- @alwayslovestruck's S/I

It's been 3 hours.

4 hours since the hero team Discorded was asked to help out with a capturing some drug smugglers.

3 1/2 hours since they found the drug den.

3 hours since Hypnotica sent in Grafight and Slasher to covertly search the place.

3 hours since he's heard a response.

It was a loud, shrill scream that made his blood go cold. Expecting the worst, he decided to find some loiters and use his quirk to get some backup.

After being only able to scour up 2 shadows for his mask alts to posses, he realized the longer he spends time looking for people, the more harm could come to his friends...*family*. Dolly, taking the form of a Harpy, and Dylan taking a shape of a Lion man, will have to do for backup. Hoping that it won't be needed, he finds an open window and heads into the den.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Look! They're opening the crates. That must be how they ship the quirk enhancing drugs."

"Slasher. I can't see shit, it's too dark in here and I don't have dope cat eyes like yo-....wait a sec..."

The younger of the heroes takes out a sketch book and quickly draws our some night vision binoculars and they suddenly 'pop' out into a physical object. After giving a thumbs up, in order to stay quite, Grafight uses the goggles.

"Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiit....that's a lot of powder. How the hell do they sell it all?"

Slasher just shrugs it off and continues watching the group of men, tail swaying as they do.

All of a sudden, all of the men stop moving. A few moments later they all turn to the gurder that the hero duo were perched on.

"Hey! Lookey here fellas, some new 'test subjects' to try the new mix on."

"Oh as if you'd even come close to touching us! You won't even get a chance to lay a finger on us. Right Grafight?"

"Right! Good luck fuckers!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Slasher! Grafight! What's going o-...."

"We won!'

Hypnotica was greeted by the sight of Slasher triumphantly standing with one foot on top of a human mound of passed out thugs while Grafight was looking over the crate of drugs, kicking one of the thugs that started move on the ground.

"Wha- Then who the hell screamed?!"

Grafight, grabbing the thug she kicked by his collar and threatening to punch him again.

"This guy did. I think he's like...the kingpin or something. Screams like a little bitch though."

"We managed to take these guys out super easily, like it was nothing! Can't believe they were talkin' smack like they could beat us..."

Still a bit shaken up from his worry, Hypnotica headed over to check out the crate. Noticing a strange metal box buried slightly underneath some of the drugs, he pulls it out and begins to question the kingpin about it.

"This your tracker? Is this the thing that you use to keep an eye on your 'supplies'?"

"You better answer. Grafight is pretty liberal with bodily harm."

Slasher says as she walks over to look at the box better, poking it with one of her claws.

"...it....it...he.....hehaha..."

"Punching time?" Grafight asks looking up at Hypnotica.

"Not yet. He needs to be conscious to answer our questions."

"Talk then, asshat."

"...doesn't matter....we....we were gunna..."

"Gunna what, idiot?!"

"d....die...die anways..."

"...Punch him Grafight."

Hypnotica grumbles while Dolly pried open the box with her talons.

"Gladly!"

"...I don't think he meant, like, *80 times Grafight...*"

Slasher now worriedly watches as the kingpin get's absolutely destroyed by fists.

"..."

Hypnotica seems frozen as he looks down at the box, unmoving, and holding his breath. Cocking her head, Slasher notices that somethings wrong with him.

"Hey....you alright big bro?"

"..."

Finally stopping her onslaught on the kingpin, Grafight looks over to Hypnotica.

"Cat got your tongue or something?"

Still not saying a word, Hypnotica turns the box so the others can see. In the box is a small glowing green tube with wires attached to it, there's also a countdown screen slightly below it. It's only got 3 seconds left on it.

As her tail drops, so does her heart, with only a few second to accept her fate Slasher meekly gasps as she starts to speak.

'Oh..'

'Shit'

Grafight finishes Slasher's thought, right before everything goes white.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sirens are blaring as the green mist clears from the rubble of what's left of the warehouse. Various bodies are strewn all about, policemen and EMTs were able to arrive on the scene fairly quickly. Not that it mattered, the damage was done. From the looks of everything, there was no survivors, all thugs and kingpin were either crushed by the rubble or suffered from some strange type of asphyxiation. Death seemed to encompass the area, until one of the EMTs discovered a lion like shadowy figure seemingly protecting a group of still breathing bodies. The figure soon dissipated leaving a strange mask in it's place.

The bodies were still alive, but barely, and they needed medical attention and fast.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"-Sources say that the 'hero' team were incapable of apprehending the group and had to resort to extreme measures to stop the-"

"Horseshit! Why would we set off a bomb? We had it covered already, it wouldn't kill them to get their facts straight..."

"Calm down Gummybear, the doc said you shouldn't strain yourself..."

It's been 4 days since Grafight was released from the hospital, suffering from 2 broken arms, rendering her unable to use her quirk...among other things. Fatgum, her partner, had insisted to stay by her side until things healed, neglecting his own hero duties in the process.

"The doc can shove it as far I care! These newscasters have no right to spew out garbage lies like that! It's gunna hurt our rep.... Sure we might not be the nicest, safest, smartest heroes in the game, but we aren't villainous either!"

"...You...you do have a point, but don't worry about it, I"m sure one of the others will give them a piece of their mind and sort things out. Right now you and I have dinner to eat!"

Grumbling as she rose from the couch, Grafight followed her partner to the kitchen, sitting down at the small round dinning table that the family usually shared. This dinner was different though. The table had a nice white satin cloth draped over it, with 2 light candles on top. It seemed that this time these two will be dinning alone.

"Take a seat baby, I'll go grab our meal."

"It better be something good, the meals at the hospital were utter shit..."

She lets her sentence trail on as a covered plate is placed ever so gently in front of her.

"Oh? Did you plan on surprising me? ....Babe, my arms, I can't open it."

"Yeah, my bad, here ya go my sweet Gummy."

Fatgum slowly removes the cover for maximum surprise effect. Once it's off, Grafight can't help but smiley widely as she notices one of her favorite meals, but with a culinary twist. Hotdogs sliced up into star shapes, surrounded by a circle of mashed potatoes, topped with melted cheese, a dash or salt, and a glob of ketchup in the middle of it all.

"So? Ya like?"

"..."

Grafight's eye's start to tear up, but her smile still stays plastered on her face. Fatgum notices right away and goes to quickly grab some tissues.

"Oh Gummy, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you! I just...I just thought I could do something special for ya...I...I-"

"Oh baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabe! I love it! Omg, I love it so much, you're the best, you know that right?"

"I...yeah....no. Wait. YOU'RE the best, you're so strong and special to me, I...I"m just so happy that I didn't lose you...you mean the universe to me."

"Stop...I'm already crying, let's just...let's just enjoy this meal together, okay?"

"Okay. I"m starving anyways..."

Fatgum takes his place across from Grafight, and starts to devour his meal.

"Uh....Ahem...."

"Oh! Yeah, my bad, let me help ya."

The two enjoy their meal together, never breaking their love filled eye contact.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Slow down Mochi, you shouldn't be over-exerting yourself."

"But Kano, I want to dance! I really like this song...cough cough...it's a total....total banger, and I deserve to have some.....fun after what happened. Everyone else has been so....gloomy since then....I just....want to bring some life.....back into the house is all...."

"I know, I know...but, you won't be able to do much joy-spreading if you can barely walk to the mailbox without getting winded halfway there."

"Hmph, stupid bomb chemicals getting.....getting into my lungs...fucking up my whole system...did they ever figure out what...what was in that tube...anyways?"

"They still haven't called us back about the results yet, but they said the inhaler they gave you was working well enough for us not to worry. So we won't, right Mochi?"

"...Yeah...I guess...I just hate...feeling weak like this...I wanna cry but.... I don't want the others to...to see....they've been through enough....I don't wan them to worry about me...me too..."

Kano takes a moment to think, after a moment he takes Slasher's paw and leads her into the living room.

"Sweety...what are you doing?"

After he gets Slasher to relax on the couch, he walks over the Hypnotica's advance sound system and grabs a homemade looking CD. Putting it in he looks to Slasher.

"The good doctor said YOU shouldn't exert yourself, but....he never said anything about me."

As soon as the music starts, Kano begins to dance in a way that's all to familiar to Slasher. It's a dance they've grown to call the 'Humpty Dance', and no one else in the house can quite get it right like these two.

"Oh Kano! This....this makes me so....happy! Keep...keep going! Maybe...maybe you could...put in some...Slipknot next? Pwetty Pwease?"

"Anything for you my Mochi."

Slasher enjoys the show Kano puts on for almost 2 hours, by the time he gets done, Kano is just about as winded as Slasher has been recently. The two then cuddle on the couch, just taking in each other's slow and labored breathes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You will most certainly not."

Sir Nighteye slams his hand down on the counter to emphasize his point, making Hypntoica jump a little.

"And why the fuck not? The need to get their facts straight. I will not stand for all of this fucking slander."

Sir sighs and pushes his glasses up, trying to calm himself down.

"I understand that, but 'kidnapping the newsroom executive' is not the most ideal way to go about it. You can barely walk, even with the crutches!"

Motioning to Hypnotica's broken left leg, and the sprain in his other. Hypnotica just huffs and looks off to the side, still with an angered expression plastered on his face.

"So. Fucking. What? Okay, maybe kidnapping is a bit extreme, but..."

Sir's own angry expression starts to soften as he notices the tears that begin to fall from his partner's face. Wondering how long he's been holding it in.

"...I can't let my family take the blame for a stupid mistake that I made!"

Hypnotica's body begins to shudder as more tears fall, Sir walks over to him and embraces him in a way to try to calm him down.

"It's not your fault...all of you did what you could to try and handle the situation."

"That doesn't excuse all of the death and destruction that happened, and not to mention all the hurt my family is going through because of it!"

"No. It doesn't. But how is any of that your doing, hmm?"

"...I...I..."

"Shh, just stay, and relax. I'll make up a fully detailed report and send out a few copies to some of the stations. They'll most likely use those facts since my name does carry some weight..."

While still holding him with his right hand, Sir uses his left to tilt Hypnotica's chin up to meet his eyes. After a few seconds go by, he rests his head on his partner's.

"...Trust me dear. Everything will turn out just fine."

"Promise?"

"I promise. I saw it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"A trusted source, who has decided to stay anonymous, has confirmed that the deaths in the Discorded Warehouse accident were not the before mentioned teams fault, but the fault of-"

"Thank you! Finally, a news channel that checks their facts. Even though I'm fine with a few deaths under my belt, but whatever I guess."

"Oh! Look Gummy! That's me! Saving all of those orphans was quite the task, I'll have to tell you all about it later."

"Kano my love! Let me help you with those dishes, there is far to many for one man to clean."

"Thank you Mochi! I kinda went all out with the meal this time, it was a celebration for everyone recovering so quickly....well, mostly everyone..."

"I call bullshit. Of course right after I get healed I trip down the stairs and end up right back to square one."

"Guess that means I'll have play nurse bit longer my dear."

~~*Cue Laugh Track*~~

#my writings #neversetinstone #...#I don't know if i want to tag this with the source material tags...#considering this made for like 3ish people

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segersgia · 4 years

Text

Looking back: Part 2 - Death Guard - Infantry

8th edition needed a big baddie for the new Primaris Marines to combat, and Mortarion was very eager to oblige in this front. The Death Guard are by far my favourite Heretic Astartes faction just by aesthetic alone. Nurgle is my #1 Chaos God. I like his focus on pestilence and decay and the fact he is technically a rather benign god.

I love the Death Guard because of their doctrines and their design. They make use of chemical warfare and just slowly advance like a poisonous cloud towards their foes.

So it was very exciting to see a full army being made out of them.

This army is very difficult to rate and review, because unlike the Space Marine line, every little model in their range is unique in some way. Every little miniature you get for this army has different weapons, helmets, and different armour patterns. This means that one unit will both have ace looking models and models that look like hot filthy garbage (in a bad way).

Let’s begin...

Plague Marines:

The main boys of the Death Guard army are definitely the much-loved Plague Marines. These are your mainline infantry boys and make up the majority of the Death Guard Army. They are a result of what happens when a Chaos Space Marine starts worshiping Nurgle a little too much. They begin transforming into these bloated and disease ridden humps of rotten flesh and rusted armour. The Plague Marines themselves love this. They feel no pain and see every little malady as another gift from their god.

The first Plague Marines came into existence during the Horus Heresy. When the Death Guard attempted to join the Siege of Terra, their fleet got lost in the Warp and the legion became infected with Nurgle’s Rot and the Destroyer Plague. Their Primarch Mortarion, in an attempt to save his legion from the torture and suffering, sold his soul and his legion to Nurgle.

Plague Marines slowly advance on their enemies, bolters firing without mercy. Some carry rusted weapons that are infused with Nurgle’s Rot. One small cut and your infected. When injured, they won’t even flinch, since they absolutely feel no pain whatsoever.

Plague Marines are a truly decisive bunch of miniatures. You have four different kits to choose from (three, since Dark Imperium has been discontinued) and each of them has some very good models and some very bad ones.

I do think that they are very busy and in some parts overdesigned. Some models have like three different Plaguebearers fused to their armour for example. I do like their armour though and the ones wearing the Mark 2 helmet are by far the best looking of the bunch.

I would say that the best box out of the four would be the basic Multi-kit, since they are the most consistent in quality. However, all of my favourites strangely come from the discontinued Dark Imperium Box Set.

7/10

Poxwalkers:

The Walking Pox is a very infectious disease that is just awful to have. Your organs start failing one by one and you eventually turn into a zombie, fully conscious of your actions yet without any control over your body.

Poxwalkers shamble like undead in search of flesh to consume. They have these long horns sprouting out of their heads and all of them constantly smile like they’ve been injected with Joker laughing gas. The worst part about them is that their groans and roars can infect those who hear it with the Walking Pox disease.

The walking Pox spreads auditory. It can spread through the vibrations of sound.

I love these models. There is nothing really bad to say about them. They completely succeed at what they are supposed to convey and resemble. Some of them hint at their former professions, like the one dressed as a doctor. Some of them also wear clothing similar to that the Genestealer Hybrids, so they stay very consistent. They look creepy and disgusting and I love it.

10/10

Blightlord Terminators:

These fellas are even more diseased than their normal Plague Marine counterparts. Their steps corrode and rust the ground beneath them and even being touched by them could spell your very painful death.

Blightlord Terminators excel at ship-to-ship-combat and boarding actions against enemy spaceships. Since they are Terminators, they can teleport aboard enemy vessels, and they use this tactic to cause mayhem and to spread the gift of Nurgle.

The Blightlords are surprisingly less busy than I would’ve expected and it makes them a better looking unit for it. These models found a way better balance between clean and diseased. I think that some of their weapons do look a bit oversized. Overall though, the designers aced this unit.

My favourite one out of the bunch is the Insectoid Blightlord with the extra limbs. That is just clever design and a fun way to visualize Nurgle’s corruption.

8/10

Deathshroud:

In the olden days of the Great Crusade and the Horus Heresy, the Deathshroud were the personal bodyguards of Mortarion. They were his version of an Honour Guard and were chosen out of the sole survivors from destroyed Space Marine squads. They completely forsook their identity, never taking of their masks and conducting a vow of silence. They are considered at that point killed in action.

They still largely form Mortarion’s personal guard even after his ascension to Daemon Prince. However, Mortarion also sends them to check up on those he favours. They fight alongside Chaos Lords and the like and act like judges. If a Chaos Lord does well, the Deathshroud leave in peace, but if the Chaos Lord failed in the eyes of Mortarion, then he gets executed by these bodyguards.

Deathshroud carry Power-scythes called Manreapers, which are rumoured to be dipped in the filth of Nurgle’s Throne itself. They also come equipped with custom Hand Flamers that shoot chemical ammunition.

The Deathshroud have a very good design that is very similar to the Blightlords. There is however some waste in potential. These are Mortarion’s most trusted warriors and they just look like a hooded version of the Blightlords. I kind of wished the designers took some inspiration from this artwork and made them have more ornate features.

It would certainly distinguish them more from their brethren better.

I also take some offence that in the images, one of them has no helmet on, which kind of ruins the point of a voiceless and faceless warrior. You do have the option of giving the squad leader a helmeted head, so this is kind of a none-issue.

7/10

Plague Marine Icon Bearer

The Icon bearers of Nurgle carry an Icon of Despair. This banner creates an aura of hopelessness around the area, and the thoughts of surrounding foes become filled with the idea of inevitable death. It basically turns enemies into nihilists who’ve become depressed.

What makes me sad about this unit is that there is no mention of these guys anywhere on the different wiki’s, which is kind of a bummer since he looks like a solid Plague Marine. Yes, it is just a Plague Marine with a Chaos Icon, but he should at least be mentioned somewhere. Don’t be mean to him. He is a good looking Plague Marine.

I do wish that the Icon he carried didn’t have the weird helmet pressed in it. The fly motive is nice though.

8/10

———————–

So all in all, outside of some outliers, the Death Guard infantry is a very solid line of miniatures that is very varied in appearance. You could apply the “Goldilocks Effect” to it; some are too busy, some are not busy enough, and some are just just right.

Next up, I’m going to tackle the Craftworld Aeldari Faction, which will be a short one and will probably come a little sooner than normal. After that, I’ll be looking at the Vanguard Primaris infantry units. I want to spread them out somewhat so that everything stays interesting, but I also want to get the Primaris overviewed as quickly as possible.

Thank you for reading my stuff so far. It is fun to overview the design and lore of these different factions. It also is a learning experience for me. For example; Tumblr has a Max-10 image cap per post and this means that this series will probably list a lot longer than I’d imagine. Still, it will be a fun ride for me.

‘Till next time.

previous posts: Primaris Mainline Infantry

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #Death Guard #8th edition #Chaos #Nurgle #Plague Marines #Infantry #warhammer #rating #Range overview

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